Last night, before church, one of the kids who comes to the Wednesday night program at Freedom Fellowship was jumped by some kids from the neighborhood. Something about them being jealous of his girlfriend. The kid, Dylan, wasn’t that hurt, but he did end up with a fat lip.
Dylan has an attitude problem. Whenever he comes in, several of the volunteers just sigh because he is out of control. He is a distraction, and probably wouldn’t be above throwing a few punches of his own if we weren’t watching him so closely - he still manages a few kicks most weeks. At 11 years old, he also has quite a mouth on him, and always manages to let a few of his more colorful vocabulary words fly. He doesn’t talk much to the volunteers, though. Just kind of looks at us, without smiling. You know, a little punk of a kid.
Last night, though, he was very subdued. I’m not sure if I was the only one, but I was more disturbed by the lack of trouble we were having with him than I ever had been by his bad behavior. As we were rehearsing for the Christmas pageant in the auditorium, his only act of defiance was to sit a few rows back without participating at all. He didn’t even stomp his feet on the floor to make extra noise like he normally does, he didn’t kick anybody, he didn’t even talk. He just stared at his shoes, holding ice to his lip.
After the evening was over, on a lark, I asked him what time he ate lunch at school. He told me and then wanted to know why? When I asked him if he liked McDonald’s, he didn’t even crack a smile, but when I asked him what he would like on a burger if I was to bring one to lunch sometime, his eyes lit up. A little. He does have a reputation to keep up.
Today, he walked into the lunchroom, but didn’t spot me right away. Based on our experience with him, I was not surprised to see that his teacher was walking directly beside him. When he did see me, however, he broke from her side and ran to me, saying,
I live a life that can best be described as constantly behind. I know that I have peers who are much more time and calendar impaired than I, but most seem to be at least a little better equiped. There are times when I’m not prepared for class when I should be, or I get involved with a conversation and end up late to class or church or whatever else I might be on my way to do.
I don’t sleep as much as I should, eat the things that I should, work as hard as I should, and I am generally bewildered by the way that those who have it together live. I know that I could never be them.
I definately don’t know why people ask me for advice. I’m not qualified to dispense it; most of the time I can barely handle my own life, let alone someone else’s. Maybe it’s my job, maybe it’s a sign on my back, but I always get told the sad stories, the impossible situations. Knowing what to say to these people is not a skill I posess.
But I love it… all of it - when their stories keep me up at night, when I don’t know what to say, when presence is enough. I think of Paul’s words: “So I will very gladly spend for you everything I have and expend myself as well.” (1 Cor. 12) Yes, very gladly, as weak, busy and unprepared as I am. The energy lasts, the right words come when needed, and the excitement is only building.
When they tell us to get involved in ministries while we’re still in school, they don’t tell us how involved we’re going to get, how attached we’ll get to the people, or how hard it is not to just abandon all else and pursue this work that we now love.
And they don’t tell us how to keep all these things in balance with school. Because when it comes down to reading everything we’re supposed to all the time or jumping into the fray that is loving people, thank God love wins. But what about school and grades?
From CS Lewis’ The Abolition of Man:
And all the time - such is the tragi-comedy of our situation - we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more ‘drive’, or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or ‘creativity’. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.