Earlier this year a few of us agreed to assist a Dublin, inner-city ministry to facilitate a Kids’ Camp in Co. Meath. It would last one week and have a variety of activities to try and daily sessions with skits, memory verses and music. All in all it looked to be a very great idea. I did not know what I was getting myself into.
We arrived an hour before the kids, 25 or so, and prepared their rooms. There was a nearly tangible peace at the 20 acre run-down mansion-on-a-lake that was to be our host for the next seven days. We chatted a bit with the other leaders and pictured what the week would be like. I layed on my mattress nearly drifting away when the silence was ruptured by such din as to nearly throw me out of bed. That is to say, the kids arrived. They spilled into the bedroom and started immediately jumping on their mattresses and sorting out their baggage and yelling. My perceptions of the week changed drastically. As I eyed up each child I wondered what would be in store. What problems would I have to deal with? Which would give the most trouble? Which would be the bully? I paused in my mind; I found myself asking all the wrong questions. This week was about encouragement, about something more than just discipline and making things work. God literally had a plan for each one of them and it was my job to facilitate that work.
It wasn’t until the second day I had the realisation that one of the kids would be particularly special.
Strong-willed. Yes.
Stubborn. Of course.
An untameable anger stirring on the inside ready to be unleashed at the slightest jab. Probably.
Bobby proved to be a handful from the beginning. As our team was coming in a troop of scouts was leaving, within a few hours someone had come up to tattle on Bobby for stealing crisps from one of the scouts. The leader asked if he had stolen, he said “No,” and when given the post-grievance opportunity to simply ask for the crisps, he clammed up and refused to speak obviously hurt by the reprimand.
On the second day the kids were allowed to purchase various sweets after lunch with their own money. When dishes were done I went up to the room only to find Bobby, the very same kid caught stealing, giving away his sweets to all the kids in the room, one by one without considering what was left for himself. What was going on in this little 9-year old? His very heart a dichotomy of right and wrong…something good was alive and stirring, it longed to be searched for.
On Wednesday, like the previous days, Bobby put up a bit of a fight to come to evening session. Not that he was rude or aggressive, he just didn’t come when called and ran when he was pursued. I was at my wit’s end trying to catch up with him. He laughingly tolerated being carted down the day before in his sleeping bag but was rather skittish today by locking himself in the room. So, as any frustrated kid’s leader would do…I sat down. I sat at the bottom of the stairs across from the room, prayed and thought awhile about who this kid was and why he seemed so special, despite his natural tendencies toward disobedience. It was not soon after the latched clicked and the door opened. He stood at the top of the stairs, looked down at me and smiled. His smiles could light a coal mine. He made a sort of, “Well, that was fun” look, waltzed down the stairs and into the room, not a word said. It was then that I realised what was different. I found what I had run across was nothing less than me. Myself. Always knowing what is right and able to act on it, but despising to be told what to do and so becoming prideful and obstinate.
One day, he had been harassed about doing something else wrong and was sitting in the back of the mansion alone looking at all the out buildings. I approached him. He asked about what was in them. I smiled, “Well… let’s have a look.”
So he and I meandered around the grounds, buildings older than my own country. We peaked in windows, explored sheds, strolled through quiet gardens. I began to realise something important. Throughout the week, kids seemed to be constantly telling on Bobby and he seemed to be the cause of so much trouble. I had a feeling that an image of disobedience was being forced upon him. However, if you just walked with him and chatted, you would find a heart bursting with simple Joy and Curiosity, not a malformed character of perpetual disobedience but a loving character longing to be cultivated into something great. He wasn’t into mischief, he was simply taking every opportunity as it came but his ignorance of right and wrong was his weakness. What seemed okay, like finding a can of spray paint with no name on it and trying it out, was not actually a “good choice”, he just didn’t know any better and so unwittingly got himself into trouble.
My understanding of Bobby would come to a head in the next day. It was time for the evening session and he didn’t really want to come so he went to the room. I was no longer frustrated with him now that I knew there was more in there than obstinance, so I went to him. He smiled at me when I walked in and I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Bobby…can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah,” in his kid-pitched Dublin accent.
“What kind of kid do you think you are?” I asked with a smile.
“I’m a bad kid,” looking at me and then away from me.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because everyone says I am…”
Ah, now we have come to it. So I looked into his slate-blue eyes and began… “Can I tell you something? You’re NOT a bad kid. You’re a great kid. I saw you sharing and I see you laughing and smiling. There’s a lot of good in you Bobby. Remember your memory verse? ‘God made me great and He has planned good things for me to do.’ So you see, both God and I think you’re good. And not only that, but I see a lot of me in you too. We’re a lot alike you and I. So now, what do you think about yourself?
With a gleeful smile, “I’m a great kid.”
“That’s right, you are. A very good kid.”
We sat quietly only a moment longer and then he rolled over. “Shall we go to session?
“Yeah.”
—
Bobby changed that day. He listened better and seemed to smile more. I had a hard time though wondering about his future. Even a day later during a campfire Bobby was getting served some hot chocolate and another kid came up and said, “Hey! That’s his second cup of hot chocolate!”
“No it isn’t!” he rebutted, “I didn’t get any.”
Was Bobby lying again? In fact, no. He was with me getting a stick to sharpen for the fire while the other kids were getting served. This other kid had instinctively assumed that Bobby was doing wrong and even invented badness for him.
What will become of him when he goes home? Will he hold strong to the truth of his God-given goodness? or will those around him continue to force him into a mould far too small and misshapen because that’s how it’s always been? Lord, let it not be so.
But this remains. On the last morning of the last day, who was first at the door? Bobby.And when the whole of the group was asked to tell a memory verse, who stood on his chair and word for word told what good was in him? Bobby did.
We arrived an hour before the kids, 25 or so, and prepared their rooms. There was a nearly tangible peace at the 20 acre run-down mansion-on-a-lake that was to be our host for the next seven days. We chatted a bit with the other leaders and pictured what the week would be like. I layed on my mattress nearly drifting away when the silence was ruptured by such din as to nearly throw me out of bed. That is to say, the kids arrived. They spilled into the bedroom and started immediately jumping on their mattresses and sorting out their baggage and yelling. My perceptions of the week changed drastically. As I eyed up each child I wondered what would be in store. What problems would I have to deal with? Which would give the most trouble? Which would be the bully? I paused in my mind; I found myself asking all the wrong questions. This week was about encouragement, about something more than just discipline and making things work. God literally had a plan for each one of them and it was my job to facilitate that work.
It wasn’t until the second day I had the realisation that one of the kids would be particularly special.
Strong-willed. Yes.
Stubborn. Of course.
An untameable anger stirring on the inside ready to be unleashed at the slightest jab. Probably.
Bobby proved to be a handful from the beginning. As our team was coming in a troop of scouts was leaving, within a few hours someone had come up to tattle on Bobby for stealing crisps from one of the scouts. The leader asked if he had stolen, he said “No,” and when given the post-grievance opportunity to simply ask for the crisps, he clammed up and refused to speak obviously hurt by the reprimand.
On the second day the kids were allowed to purchase various sweets after lunch with their own money. When dishes were done I went up to the room only to find Bobby, the very same kid caught stealing, giving away his sweets to all the kids in the room, one by one without considering what was left for himself. What was going on in this little 9-year old? His very heart a dichotomy of right and wrong…something good was alive and stirring, it longed to be searched for.
On Wednesday, like the previous days, Bobby put up a bit of a fight to come to evening session. Not that he was rude or aggressive, he just didn’t come when called and ran when he was pursued. I was at my wit’s end trying to catch up with him. He laughingly tolerated being carted down the day before in his sleeping bag but was rather skittish today by locking himself in the room. So, as any frustrated kid’s leader would do…I sat down. I sat at the bottom of the stairs across from the room, prayed and thought awhile about who this kid was and why he seemed so special, despite his natural tendencies toward disobedience. It was not soon after the latched clicked and the door opened. He stood at the top of the stairs, looked down at me and smiled. His smiles could light a coal mine. He made a sort of, “Well, that was fun” look, waltzed down the stairs and into the room, not a word said. It was then that I realised what was different. I found what I had run across was nothing less than me. Myself. Always knowing what is right and able to act on it, but despising to be told what to do and so becoming prideful and obstinate.
One day, he had been harassed about doing something else wrong and was sitting in the back of the mansion alone looking at all the out buildings. I approached him. He asked about what was in them. I smiled, “Well… let’s have a look.”
So he and I meandered around the grounds, buildings older than my own country. We peaked in windows, explored sheds, strolled through quiet gardens. I began to realise something important. Throughout the week, kids seemed to be constantly telling on Bobby and he seemed to be the cause of so much trouble. I had a feeling that an image of disobedience was being forced upon him. However, if you just walked with him and chatted, you would find a heart bursting with simple Joy and Curiosity, not a malformed character of perpetual disobedience but a loving character longing to be cultivated into something great. He wasn’t into mischief, he was simply taking every opportunity as it came but his ignorance of right and wrong was his weakness. What seemed okay, like finding a can of spray paint with no name on it and trying it out, was not actually a “good choice”, he just didn’t know any better and so unwittingly got himself into trouble.
My understanding of Bobby would come to a head in the next day. It was time for the evening session and he didn’t really want to come so he went to the room. I was no longer frustrated with him now that I knew there was more in there than obstinance, so I went to him. He smiled at me when I walked in and I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Bobby…can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah,” in his kid-pitched Dublin accent.
“What kind of kid do you think you are?” I asked with a smile.
“I’m a bad kid,” looking at me and then away from me.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because everyone says I am…”
Ah, now we have come to it. So I looked into his slate-blue eyes and began… “Can I tell you something? You’re NOT a bad kid. You’re a great kid. I saw you sharing and I see you laughing and smiling. There’s a lot of good in you Bobby. Remember your memory verse? ‘God made me great and He has planned good things for me to do.’ So you see, both God and I think you’re good. And not only that, but I see a lot of me in you too. We’re a lot alike you and I. So now, what do you think about yourself?
With a gleeful smile, “I’m a great kid.”
“That’s right, you are. A very good kid.”
We sat quietly only a moment longer and then he rolled over. “Shall we go to session?
“Yeah.”
—
Bobby changed that day. He listened better and seemed to smile more. I had a hard time though wondering about his future. Even a day later during a campfire Bobby was getting served some hot chocolate and another kid came up and said, “Hey! That’s his second cup of hot chocolate!”
“No it isn’t!” he rebutted, “I didn’t get any.”
Was Bobby lying again? In fact, no. He was with me getting a stick to sharpen for the fire while the other kids were getting served. This other kid had instinctively assumed that Bobby was doing wrong and even invented badness for him.
What will become of him when he goes home? Will he hold strong to the truth of his God-given goodness? or will those around him continue to force him into a mould far too small and misshapen because that’s how it’s always been? Lord, let it not be so.
But this remains. On the last morning of the last day, who was first at the door? Bobby.And when the whole of the group was asked to tell a memory verse, who stood on his chair and word for word told what good was in him? Bobby did.
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