This morning I am choosing to continue remembering the sacred memories I hold from years of ministry with young people despite the fact that I have a rather virulent rant regarding gender stereotyping growing inside of me. I sense that reflecting on the former will be of more benefit at the moment, though I will likely not cease reflecting on the latter. Hopefully the virulent rant will have subsided before Alicia gets home or she will have to hear all my new thoughts on the matter along with all the old ones yet again.
So today I am remembering a beautiful Sunday school class in which we were studying the story of Abram, Sarai, and Lot. As a class we gathered together and again did a bit of guided imagery to get into the scene of the story. 1/2 of the class made up Lot and his family while the other half was Abram, Sarai, and their household. Each child carried a stone and as we traveled from location to location we piled our stones together as an altar, marking our new home, and God's presence with us. We also carried our God lantern as we traveled (a God candle would have been far harder to transport). Here again, we lived the story and the kids got deeply involved, scouting out the land for good places to set up our home. We concluded our travels in Abram and Sarai's tent up in our classroom. I had set up a tent of sorts with hanging sheets from the ceiling, a challenge to make one large enough for our sizable class. Gathered together in that space we ate pita and raisins and reflected on the story.
Much to my amazement the children really liked dry pita and most liked the raisins as well and for over 10 minutes they reflected deeply on the experiences of Abram, Sarai, and Lot while sharing this meal together in their tent. Reflections began with how they thought the characters felt about one another, about fairness, about what it must have been like to travel so much and set up their home in so many places and ended with where they noticed God's presence in their own lives. I could never have guessed what they shared with me that day. Sometimes we have stereotypical understandings of kids that lead us to think that their experience of God would be about getting things that they want (new toys, their own way), or about playground squabbles. Yet what I heard was of a far more universal quality. Being invited by a brother to play, when another brother has rejected you, or speculations regarding God's presence while we were still in the womb.The reflections ranged from the immediate and personal to the existential.
At the conclusion of our class we exited the tent and joined together in a prayer provided by our curriculum which asked us to pray standing in all four directions, drawing from the words from our scripture text. My heart felt full as I saw the children plant their feet firmly each time they turned and speak loudly their prayers, their declarations of faith.
I wanted the children to each be able to take a rock from our altar home with them, and with the number of rocks that we had it was possible for them to each take several rocks, but I wasn't sure how to do it. Just taking all the rocks out of the bag and putting them on the floor seemed like a recipe for disaster and as I pondered this small dilemma, one of the boys in the class came up with a brilliant solution that seemed to have been strongly influenced by our discussion earlier (I was quickly learning that this young man had a gift for creative problem solving, one that was perhaps often overlooked due to his rambunctious nature). So each child lined up and one at a time took a stone, and then went to the back of the line to start again. This seemed fair to each one, even though normally there probably would have been much arguing about who would go first and get the best rock. What was fair that day seemed to have undergone some alteration. Fair was not just about me, and what I want, but neither was it only about you and what you want. Fair had become what is best for us together.
A couple of weeks later one of the children shared with me that she had built a small altar on her bedside table as a constant reminder of God's presence with her as she went to sleep.
There is nothing as remarkable as seeing children connect with God, and with the image of God that resides within them. There is a peace that shines from deep within them, a peace that is not about happiness, or being able to please someone else, or get their own way, all the things that we stereotypically associate with a child's emotional expression. In these sacred moments, I have witnessed children releasing their fears about not being good enough, their anxiety about disappointing others, their need to prove themselves or bolster their own self esteem and simply rest in the presence of God and the knowledge that they are loved beyond all understanding.
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