CruciformMe

Six shots rang out Tuesday on a street where children were playing. The target ducked down in her car, which the gunman destroyed with his bullets. Amazingly, no one was hurt.

Maranatha.

Tonight, there were fourteen middle and high school students in my class at Freedom Fellowship.

Good God.

The first night I taught, there was four.

What in God’s name is going on over there?

I led them in a discussion of the problem of pain and suffering in the world, and what we can and should do about it.

God is good.

There is a child at Freedom Fellowship Friends who has been the first one there every day our doors have been open. He’s a sweet kid, and probably the smartest one I’ve ever met, but he has an odd habit. He does his homework diligently, and then he starts what his mother calls the “Never-Ending Game of Mercy.”

I don’t know if you’re familiar with “Mercy.” The point is to test the strength and limitations of the person with whom you are competing. You latch hands , with your fingers interlacing with the hands opposite you. You begin pushing and pulling, twisting and turning your arms in an attempt to cause the other person a significant amount of pain. The game is over when someone cries out, “Mercy!”

However, long before he can beat anyone at this game (he’s maybe 4′3″ and weighs 65 lbs soaking wet), it dissolves into a wrestling match. And finally, he wants to be chased.

Chased around the tables. Chased around the parking lot. Chased around our grassy area. Chase. Wrestle. Chase. Wrestle. Chase! This is our routine. Everything he does before leads to the chase.

This fits right into Henri Nouwen, of course. We long to be wanted. Needed. Beloved. Blessed - by the knowledge that the world would be worse off without our presence. This is not arrogance, but merely the knowledge that we were created as good by the Father. Nouwen would say that this chasing game embodies one of the most basic needs of our souls. I remember part of a poem I wrote several years ago:

Playing Hide and Seek
We never stopped to think
That if we hid, you would not find;
That if we ran, you would not chase,
While playing Hide and Seek.

I didn’t always realize that was I was being pursued. I remember feeling left out, alone and wondering who was supposed to be there and why it was that nobody chased me when I went running. Looking back, though, I know that I was pursued recklessly. We all need to be chased.

When I think of the patience that my volunteers have, I realize that they are meeting that need by being Jesus with skin on. And, in this case, “mercy” takes on a whole new meaning.

It was a rainy afternoon.

“I thought you were leaving,” I said. This was not the first time I’d asked him to leave the after-school program at Freedom Fellowship. He is one of the toughest children to attend, but he’s also stubborn, and doesn’t deal with authority well. 20 minutes after he stormed out the door, while showing me an inappropriate finger, I found him hiding in the baptistry.

Yep, in the baptistry. Somehow, when I think of the song, “You Are My Hiding Place,” that’s not what I normally have in mind.

“I can’t go home!” he yelled, as tears welled up in his eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go!”

“Oh, so you have to stay here?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we need to talk,” I said, as I stepped into my office. He followed me in, letting me have it all the way.

“It’s not my fault both my parents have to work, okay? Was I supposed to just sit outside in the rain until y’all got done?!” He plopped himself in a chair. “Not everybody can go home right after school, you know. You’re in college; I thought you would have figured that out by now, unless you’re retarded.”

We stared at each other. His face was flushed with emotion, waiting to see how I would react.” Are you done?” I asked.

“I don’t know, yet.”

“Well, give me a chance.” I took a deep breath, wondering what could possibly be the right thing to say to him. “Hey, do you think the home I grew up in was perfect?” He nodded - and compared to his, I wonder sometimes. “Well, you’re wrong. It wasn’t. And what you said about not being able to go home - that’s why I’m here, you know. I did figure that out. There are some kids here who have someone at home waiting for them, and I’m glad they’re here. But this is not for them - this is for you! They don’t need this, it’s just fun. But you and kids like you are the reason that this is here - that I’m here! I just want to make this a place for you to go.”

He looked at me, understanding taking the place of anger. “So, do you think we can have an agreement: You can chill here, but you have to follow the rules that everybody else does?” He nodded. He was the last to leave that day.

Love is a hard business, and not always pleasant. It takes more sacrifice than I’d like. How do you convince someone that they are wanted? In the case of most of the kids who show up everyday, it’s kites, chalk, music, basketball and football. In the case of a homeless guy this weekend, it was some soup, a movie, a beer, some cigarettes and a warm place to sleep. In the case of this child that day, it meant identifying with him and providing an alternative to the current situation.

In any case, it definitely takes a healthy dose of endurance.