We Are Being Changed

I wish I had my Sunday School kids today, during the devastation of the pandemic and the terrifying images of murder and protest. I would tell that I am lost, too, but from the wise old pinnacle of my years, I would assure them that we can trust God no matter how things look and how long things take. The pain inside us and right in front of us in nothing compared to the power of love that surrounds us.

Also, I would rustle the bag of chips at them, so they will listen awhile. Then I put the chips away and ask each child their name. Names matter! Names are our deepest truth and beauty. Their name is Beloved.

This goes quickly as there are usually only three or four kids, of different colors and ages. My only message most Sundays is that they are loved exactly as they are, whatever they have done, whoever they love. As is!

I’d ask them what isolation has been like for them, and if they are okay, and what they make of the fires on TV. I would listen to their pain and anger, share my exhaustion with it all, and remind them of what John Lennon said, that “Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” I ask if they believe that to be true. They shrug: sort of.

I would remind them of what Martin said, that the moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends towards justice. Even now, in the chaos and hate of our Dear Leader, police brutality, extreme poverty and desperation. We are being changed, kicking and screaming, without a single clue about who will lead us, how things will look and be when the dust and virus settle.

I hate this. It would be so much skin off God’s nose to give us a map?

Well, I would tell my kids, God actually does, and I would have one of the big kids read Psalm 61 from the Hebrew Bible: “When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

ANY rock is higher than the pinball machine arcade of my mind. I’d look at them with my stern teacherly eyes and ask them, Where is that rock?

They’ll hedge, haw, and answer that it is God, faith, etc. I’d nod, and add that God is Good Orderly direction,ie the next right thing. And It is right here, I’d say, in our love for each other. This is going to save the world.

All of us wish that God had a magic wand and would heal the sick—one of our own, who turned 23 last week, who we confirmed seven years ago, is in late stage brain cancer. We’ve prayed for his healing for a decade, and did not get the kind of healing we wanted. But he and his family got miracles beyond imagining, grace upon grace, grace as spiritual Wd-40, grace as unfathomable love, Grace as science, doctors, nurses.

And I will remind these kids that grace bats last.

It is in prayer, service, compassion, chocolate. We do what is possible: we make bright cards with glitter and stickers for the kids who come to our church’s food pantry with their parents. We listen, the main message of our dear brother Jesus: we listen, we get thirsty people water, we feed the hungry.

Any hungry kids here? All of them raise their hands. We’re starving!

There are many kinds of hunger, many kinds of food. Education is food Radical self care is a glass of water. I have googled UNICEF in class before, the United Nations Children’s Fund, which was called the UN International Children’s Emergency Fund when I collected money every Halloween of my youth. I show them the Donate button, and right before their very eyes, I donate $100. This will be a huge amount of money but secretly I send UNICEF and various food banks all the time, like you do. Giving is what makes us happiest, makes us feel richest, most fills our hearts. If you want to have loving feelings, even today!—do loving things

We think we are starved for what we are not getting, which is the great palace lie, but we are actually hungry for what we are not giving. So that’s an easy fix, right?

I tell the kids an old Vacation Bible School story of a teacher whipping up his students by asking, “Who loves Jesus so much they would give Him $1000 dollars?” All but one little girl raise their hands cheering, “Me, me!” The teacher asks, “Who would give Him $100?” Again, all the kids but one raise their chances and cheer. Then $20, then $10, then $5. Yay, ya, cheers. Finally, when the teacher asks who would give Jesus a dollar, and the little girl enthusiastically raises her hand. “I would, I would!”
The teachers, “Why did it take you so long?”
The little girl explains earnestly, “Well, I HAVE a dollar.”

Now my kids are laughing, and laughter is not only carbonated holiness: it is medicine.

Rumi said, that through love, all pain will turn to medicine and I waggle my fingers stern at the kids: ALL pain. Do you hear me? Yes, they nod, trying not to roll their eyes.

I tell them one more story while I prepare their snack, organic corn chips and the first cherries of the year:

Ten years ago, I had a ten year old boy at this very table who said something something mean about my dreadlocks. He had an Afro with a buzzed part down the middle, very stylish—but mine was too. So I gave a short talk on how we really must never ever say anything hurtful about people’s looks, hair, size, etc. He gaped at me for a minute and then said, “Damn! You are freaking me out, Octopus Head.”

That might be the hardest I’ve laughed in my whole life. Then I fed him.

Look, Figure it out is not a good slogan. So just for today, let us feed each other patience, listening, chips and fruit. Let’s get thirsty people water, even when it is scared clueless mealy-mouth us. It will change us. We are being changed.