Jesus Loves Problem Kids
Stories
New Mercies I See
His name was Freddie and he was as cute as little boys come. He was also, according to his Sunday school teacher and the ushers at the North Doncaster church, "a holy terror" who single-handedly disrupted our education and worship times week after week.
Jesus loved him -- but after several months of his regular attendance, some of the rest of us weren't so sure that we did.
But still, it was our job to help Freddie know Jesus' love, and, if we were reading the gospel correctly, to be an extension of God's love to him as well.
Although a member of the church, Freddie's single mom hadn't attended in years. Grandma had been bringing Freddie to church with her and had managed some small measure of control over him, but then her health failed, and she could no longer attend. Freddie's mother started dropping him off for the two hours of Sunday school and worship. There, without an adult of his own to supervise him, this little guy ran wild. During class, he monopolized his teacher's attention. During worship, the ushers became his babysitters by default. And more than once, people seated in the sanctuary balcony leapt from their seats to grab Freddie as he careened dangerously near the railing.
We tried all sorts of things. Member families invited him to sit with them, but he'd never stay in their pew for longer than a few minutes. We assigned a teenage helper to his class and during worship gave him several activity sheets and crayons, but none of these efforts was effective for long either.
Finally, we sent a delegation to appeal to his mother to come to church with him, and she did -- for one Sunday (during which Freddie behaved angelically). She assumed her single visit had settled the matter and dropped him off on his own again the following Sunday. She ignored our subsequent pleas.
The only suggestion we refused to implement was that we expel Freddie from church. Instead, we struggled along, hoping Freddie would finally abandon his acting out behavior as he matured. We probably made a lot of mistakes, and child-care experts might have come up with better solutions. But we muddled through.
In his teenage years, Freddie was the livewire of our youth group. He drove more than one adult to distraction with his nonstop clowning and his inevitable testing of the rules. There was nothing mean-spirited in his actions, but it was as if he were driven to act out by some inner hyperactive tormenter. On three occasions I had private talks with Freddie about his disruptive behavior, and each time, he seemed genuinely repentant. But his efforts to reform were always short lived.
Still, we hung in there, and he kept coming to our church events.
By the time Freddie was a young adult, I was no longer at North Doncaster; the bishop had appointed me to another parish. But I'd still hear news from my former church from time to time and eventually word came that Freddie was entering the ministry.
Didn't surprise me one bit.
Jesus loved him -- but after several months of his regular attendance, some of the rest of us weren't so sure that we did.
But still, it was our job to help Freddie know Jesus' love, and, if we were reading the gospel correctly, to be an extension of God's love to him as well.
Although a member of the church, Freddie's single mom hadn't attended in years. Grandma had been bringing Freddie to church with her and had managed some small measure of control over him, but then her health failed, and she could no longer attend. Freddie's mother started dropping him off for the two hours of Sunday school and worship. There, without an adult of his own to supervise him, this little guy ran wild. During class, he monopolized his teacher's attention. During worship, the ushers became his babysitters by default. And more than once, people seated in the sanctuary balcony leapt from their seats to grab Freddie as he careened dangerously near the railing.
We tried all sorts of things. Member families invited him to sit with them, but he'd never stay in their pew for longer than a few minutes. We assigned a teenage helper to his class and during worship gave him several activity sheets and crayons, but none of these efforts was effective for long either.
Finally, we sent a delegation to appeal to his mother to come to church with him, and she did -- for one Sunday (during which Freddie behaved angelically). She assumed her single visit had settled the matter and dropped him off on his own again the following Sunday. She ignored our subsequent pleas.
The only suggestion we refused to implement was that we expel Freddie from church. Instead, we struggled along, hoping Freddie would finally abandon his acting out behavior as he matured. We probably made a lot of mistakes, and child-care experts might have come up with better solutions. But we muddled through.
In his teenage years, Freddie was the livewire of our youth group. He drove more than one adult to distraction with his nonstop clowning and his inevitable testing of the rules. There was nothing mean-spirited in his actions, but it was as if he were driven to act out by some inner hyperactive tormenter. On three occasions I had private talks with Freddie about his disruptive behavior, and each time, he seemed genuinely repentant. But his efforts to reform were always short lived.
Still, we hung in there, and he kept coming to our church events.
By the time Freddie was a young adult, I was no longer at North Doncaster; the bishop had appointed me to another parish. But I'd still hear news from my former church from time to time and eventually word came that Freddie was entering the ministry.
Didn't surprise me one bit.
