I have had a number of encounters with my grandson these past few weeks. Each one has reminded me of the blessing of family. Each one refreshes my understanding of the love and care Our Father had for his own Son. I don't equate myself with Him. But I am blessed to understand to some degree the extraordinary gift He gave to us in the person of His Son.
Last week I began providing after-school pick-up and care for my grandson, Chris. I offered some months ago. This means I show up at his elementary school every afternoon, meet him, take him home, help him with his homework (although in truth, he needs almost no help), and then just be with him until one or the other of his Mom or Dad can come by.
The truly unexpected in this was the recalled joy of seeing all the young faces each day at Chris' school. Some are disheveled, some immaculately groomed. Some are small, some large. Some are walking confidently alone, others are holding hands with another as though still uncertain of the moment.
Some children are weighed down by backpacks that seem twice their own size. Chris used to have one of these and he looked like a man on a mission as he walked briskly down the hall, leaning forward under the weight of his pack. It was almost as if he had to walk rapidly or the weight of his pack would push him forward onto his face in mid-stride.
IN addition to school, Chris and I have been attending church together for the last few months. He asked to attend (remarkable enough for a young boy) and I was delighted to accommodate. I pick him up each Sunday morning and drop him off back home afterwards. He began asking about Communion and then, after discussing it with his parents, he began receiving. There is an inner voice present in him urging him on and helping him to explore the mysteries in all we celebrate each Sunday. He follows along with most of the service (a statement which is probably a fair observation about me, truth be told). His desire to attend keeps me accountable. When it might be easy to sleep in or relax on Sunday mornings, I cannot. Aside from disappointing him, I can't bear the thought of missing out on observing his journey.
One last vignette . . . Last week, I helped Chris' Dad take him and his two small brothers to a season-ending gathering for Chris' youth basketball team. The league was sponsored by a downtown mega-church. The ending celebration was laden with a strong evangelical pitch from the church. All the young kids sat with their teammates in this large hall (some 100-150 boys and girls). Family and friends sat apart. Auditorium-wide games were played . . . many with religious "messages." All designed to provide organized fun for hundreds of people. Familiar tunes played over the loudspeakers with lyrics changed to present Christian messages (e.g., think Beach Boys music and sing "Help me Jesus. Help, help me Jesus).
Finally, the overt sermon asking each child to embrace a "Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior." Cards were distributed to everyone and each was asked to provide name and phone contact information. Most children dutifully filled out their card without thought. Should I have been angry that this event presumed upon the awakening Chris has been undergoing? Or should I be confident that the messages of evangelism buried within "fun activities" would not derail Chris' new faith exploration" Perhaps it could deepen his new faith and provide opportunities for questions.
Each of these events provides me unexpected encounters with Jesus . . . all in the faces of children. Whatever other joys and concerns I have about these moments, I am blessed for these reminders of His presence and a faith that permits me to see Him there (whether or not I understand it all).
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I have tried my hardest to "trust" the Spirit of God in moments like the one you are describing, hoping God will find a way to make such manipulations useful, all-the-while not making them essence of the people's emerging sense of God. And then I just get angry because I know too well that more often than not that latter is exactly what happens.
ReplyDeleteMy wife and I made the decision to move to the Episcopal Church exactly to avoid putting my seven year old son in such a setting. Though the other day I found myself explaining to a friend why we would prefer our boy not be in Upward Basketball to their much befuddled expression. Maybe I will send them to this post.
Tim,
ReplyDeleteIt took me from last Thuirsday until last night to sort out my own response to the event (such as it is presently). At that time, I was preoccupied with news I wrote about previously (a friend's distress phone call). I was not in a very positive place to witness the unfolding of the evening events. In addition, not being aware that the evening was to be an evangelizing event rather than a youth sports celebration was confusing.
As a post script . . . on Saturday evening Chris spent the night here along with his young brothers while his parents enjoyed a rare night out. On Sunday morning, Chris had the opition of going home with his brothers or coming to church with me. His choice made me smile.