Ladies and gentlemen, it is time.  I haven’t felt this way in a LONG time.  Twenty-three years in the classroom and here I am actually, dare I say, excited to return to work?  Are you kidding me? 

Bring it on!

Let my walk-up song echo over the speakers, pulsing energy through my veins.  It used to be Toby Mac’s “Till the Day I Die.”  Not this year.  I still love me some Toby Mac, but another song has been on my heart as of recent.  A song I want to define my school year: Tauren Wells’ “Take it All Back.”

Give me a smoke tunnel!  I want to emerge like Patrick Mahomes, bouncing into Arrowhead come September 5.  The Ravens don’t want to see number 15.  Let me tell you, Satan is not going to want to see Clint Daniels come September 21.  Our first day of students.  Game day.  Satan will cringe as I pop out of bed that morning.

Let me explain why …

He tried to steal my life this past year.  He stripped me of all my comfort, ripping my job in Olathe away from me.  (God still provided.) He planted me in the remote town of Osawatomie, Kansas, thinking that would crush my desire to ever teach again.  (It only made me hungrier to rediscover my passion.)

Most despicably, Satan tried to cripple not only my back but my desire to live purposefully.  I slipped into a mini-depression I will call it.  Nothing seemed to bring me joy.  All the worldly things I tried to substitute in my life left me spiritually dry, craving something more. (I still powered through.)

I needed Jesus to break me down and build me back up.  And guess what?  He did.

It was at the most unusual time.  The month of May.  I thought I would limp into the summer, stuck in my rut.  But there was Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, pulling me out of the mud and the mire, setting my feet on solid ground (Psalm 40:1-2), nudging me along to finish my tenure at Osawatomie Middle School with a flourish.

It was phenomenal to finish that way.  Especially after slugging my way through the entire year.  I had told my kids I wasn’t going to quit on them, and it felt invigorating to live that out.  I smiled with them.  Skated with them at the roller rink.  Bowled with them at the bowling alley.  Loved on them as best I could.  While I had time.

That is how I hope they remembered me.  And I will miss them greatly as this new year begins.

Tauren Wells’ song had become my summer anthem.  It blasted on my car radio.  Windows down and accelerator floored, the wind breathed new life into my lungs as I let my arm simulate waves.  The song reverberated from my ear buds as I went on walks.  It became a part of me. 

I’m calling the angels down
I’m storming the gates of hell
Tell the devil he don’t own my soul
I’m taking back what the enemy stole

I’m raising the battle cry
I’m holding the banner high
With the power of the holy ghost
I’m taking back what the enemy stole

Satan hated that song.  It was his kryptonite.  Especially in the middle of it when it mentions the name above all names.  The name that strikes fear into him and all his cronies that try to deceive.  Lust … Depression … Frustration … Negativity … Apathy … Laziness … They all scurried away at the name of the Lord of Lords, King of Kings …

J-E-S-U-S

You can’t speak your lies over my family, no
You can’t break the promises that are standing, no
Ain’t gotta flex to put you back in your place now
One name is all I gotta say, Jesus

And it wasn’t me flexing.  Just like the lyrics state, I didn’t have to flex.  As a matter of fact, I really don’t want to think about me flexing after putting on the Teacher Ten over the summer!  (Anyone else in that same boat?  I swear, it happens to me every year!) It was the Good Shepherd.  The Bread of Life.  The Alpha and Omega. 

Jesus flexed for me, and I let Him back into my life.  I began to flourish, living my life for Him, not my own desires.  I wrote a book about a Vietnam veteran.  I rediscovered my love for golf.  I led two 8^th graders to their baptism.  And I allowed relationships in my F3 group as well as my men’s Bible study group to flourish. 

Ever seen that Seinfeld episode about the Summer of George?  Mine was the summer of Clint.  Or I guess the summer Clint let Jesus take the wheel all over again.  The Summer of Jesus.  That has a much better ring to it.  Putting the tag of my Rock, my Redeemer seems much more fitting.

I am chomping at the bit.  I am that track athlete I just saw on TV, eyes closed in the darkness of the tunnel, swaying back and forth, allowing the Holy Spirit to make every future step purposeful.  Strategic.  Intentional.  They are getting ready to call my name. 

And do you know that the scary thing is?  That name I spoke of above.  The name I was not allowed to call upon publicly for my entire teaching career.  That almighty, omnipotent name of Jesus Christ is going to be proclaimed in room 153 at Heritage Christian Academy from day one.  It is not only allowed …

It is ENCOURAGED.

Bring it on.  It is time to take back what the enemy stole.  And I am not asking him please.  I plan on blindsiding him.  Smacking him with ferocity that would make Jack Tatum tip his cap to me.  Taking back my love for kids.  The power to make a difference.  The beauty of trusted relationships.  The voice of hope. 

The love of Jesus.

Teacher Olympics events this coming week:

• Surviving Inservice: My tip is to take notes and continually nod your head as if you understand everything. 
• Bulletin Board Decorating: I hold the unfair advantage here.  My wife said she’d do it for me.  (Is that legal?)
• New Staff Trivia: I should dominate here since I am the new staff member. 
• Stay Alert in the Afternoon From 1-3: I am not the favorite here. I might even sleep through the event completely.
• Alarm Smackdown: Who can smack their alarm quickest in the morning?