One of my favorite preachers of generations past is Leslie Weatherhead. An ecumenical Methodist, he was minister to the City Temple in London during World War II. His ongoing message to a people ravaged by Nazi warplanes was hope. Whatever may happen to us, he told the disheartened Londoners, God is with us and he will work for good in our afflictions, and he will give us victory.

They came from all over London to hear his message of hope. He continued preaching even when his Temple was partly destroyed, and did not take his congregation to another venue until it was completely bombed out. The bombs often did their evil work in the dead of night. This was while I was in college in, and I recall the pencils we circulated that were embossed with There will always be an England.

Weatherhead was a scholar in the church. Even though he took a PhD from London University and a D.D. from Edinburgh, he gave his life to the church as a writer as well as preacher. He was such a bold, thoughtful, writer -- as well as prolific -- that I resolved to acquire everything he ever published. I managed only some twenty titles out of more than seventy. I have underlined a number of his more provocative statements , one of which is: “We are so limited to our narrow view that we almost forget that there is anything else except what we see.”

One of his most impressive titles is The Transforming Friendship in which he depicts Christ as a friend who changes lives -- simply as a friend. In referencing Brother Lawrence’s idea of “practicing the presence of God,” he says that the only way he knows to practice the presence of God is to practice the presence of Jesus., who makes God credible and real. He advises those who are ill or lonely to have an empty chair nearby, and to think of Jesus sitting there as a friend.

Another title that points up his creativity as a thinker is The Significance of Silence in which he states that simple silence -- such as sitting quietly in a room alone -- would serve to lessen the violence in the world. He quotes C. S. Lewis’ phrase “God’s intolerable compliment” and gives it his own turn in the context of human suffering: “God has paid us the intolerable compliment in loving us in the deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense.”

He is among the few responsible scholars to argue for reincarnation -- not universal reincarnation perhaps, but in special cases. He argues from both experiential and biblical evidence, the former he sees as incontrovertible. He observes that Hesus' disciples must have believed in reincarnation or they would not have asked him, “Rabbi, did this man sin (in a previous life) that he should be born blind?” (John 9:2). He also points out that reincarnation must have been a commonly held view in the time of Christ -- that he never bothered to correct -- in that Jesus himself was thought to be a reincarnated prophet.

But it is a line from his Prescription For Anxiety that inspires the title of this essay. It reads: “This earth-life is the lowest form in God’s school. We have got a lot of schooling to go through before we are perfected.” He is saying we are now only in kindergarten, and graduate studies are a long way down the road. While humanity is to grow and learn and draw closer to God throughout eternity, there may yet be centuries , even millenniums, during which we will grow and learn on planet earth. In spite of modern prophets who insist that the end of the world is imminent, human history may yet be in its infancy. The millennium itself may yet be in the far distant future.

As advanced as we suppose ourselves to be in science and technology, it is likely that we have only begun to learn, whatever the subject. We might have difficulty persuading a nuclear scientist that he “knows nothing” -- as Socrates would put it -- but in comparison to the great sea of knowledge before us, while we wade in the shallows, we are indeed ignorant. As we look back to those who lived centuries ago and judge them as primitive, those in future aeons may see us in the same light.

A new Target store has opened near our home, one of those super stores. As I recently walked through it, awed by its splendor and inventory, I could easily conclude that there is no way to be more modern than this. Those in third-world countries, I thought, would see it as something next to heaven. In my childhood an old A&P appeared to be a wonder of abundance. Had I then been suddenly thrust into a modern Target I would have been overwhelmed. But you can count on it -- that Target store, as breathtaking as it is, will one day be part of humanity’s primitive past. Kindergarten!

This truth -- if indeed it be true -- really gets exciting in the spiritual realm, and by that I mean “things unseen,” which Weatherhead says we have a hard time seeing. The great apostle assures us that “We see through a glass darkly” even when “We look not at the things that are seen, but the things that are unseen ( 2 Corinthians 4:18). He seems to be saying that we get at least a glimpse -- even if a dim one -- of the glory and grandeur of God’s tomorrow.

It is like a grade-schooler in Milsap, Texas getting a glimpse of the Pepperdine University campus overlooking the blue waters of the Pacific. Or to make it personal, a high school dropout like me arriving at “The Yard” at Harvard University.

Yes, Weatherhead may have it right, we are yet only in kindergarten. But we have a lot to learn in ‘the lowest form in God’s school.” Remember the chap who wrote the book on “All I needed to learn about life I learned in kindergarten.” He learned not to take what belonged to others, not to hit, and to hold hands when crossing the street. In our kindergarten of life we are learning many childish lessons that prepare us for “going up higher.”

One poet described this life as “a vale of soul-making.” Our souls are being prepared for communion with God and for “the innumerable company of angels, and the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven” (Hebrews 12:22-23). We are destined for graduate school!

Kindergarten is God’s workplace. We fall and hurt ourselves. We get battered and bruised. We have a problem getting along with each other. We sometimes feel like we might not make the grade with everything against us. We get discouraged and think of giving up. Afflictions abound and difficulties stack up. We sometimes cry. But in it all God is at work, preparing us for the next grade, and eventually for graduation -- when we toss our caps in the air and cry hallelujah!

Yes, it is something Weatherhead himself might have said. Kindergarten is God’s workplace.

Notes

I suspect you are tired of my talking about Ouida and Phoebe -- even though some say they read this part first! Ouida is at home mending, but slowly. The doctor says she has much to recover from, that it will take lots of time. We almost lost her, he confided. She says I make a good caretaker, and I have help from nurses who come in and dear Christian friends who bring food and help clean. Phoebe got out of the hospital last week and went to rehab, but only for a few days. She had to go back to the hospital because of breathing problems. She’s always upbeat when I visit her. Again, I thank you for your prayerful concern.

All these essays, along with other writings, are available at www.leroygarrett.org Names are added to our mailing list upon request.