Sunday, August 4, 2013

The line on the yellow folder.

"I want to be on Jesus' side."

The yellow folder lay on the table between us, a line drawn down the middle, one side labeled "Jesus," across the line, "Other."
Just before, she had asked, "Isn't everyone Jesus' friend?" I wanted to say yes. I wished I could say yes. But the hard truth, the truth no one really likes hearing or saying, must be spoken. And so the quickly sketched line and scrawled words on the yellow folder demonstrated that there is no neutral ground.

"I want to be on Jesus' side." Her finger indicated which side she meant.

"Based on what we've talked about this week and on the verses we've been studying, what do you have to do to be on His side?"

She shrugged. "Follow God."

The other kids piped in - the kids I was growing to love. The pastor's daughter, Emma. The missionary's son, Thomas. The ever-confident Ellie. These piped in - "And you have to repent." "And accept Jesus as your savior." "And believe that he died for your sins." I only met these kids three days ago. But I am oh, so proud of them.

I wanted to push her, to coax her to pray and believe right at that moment. But too often have I seen children raise a hand or pray a prayer just because they are asked - true belief goes deeper than that. True belief doesn't need to be coaxed.

More than a prayer, I wanted her to count the costs. To truly follow Christ. To accept that He is the only way, not just a good way. For she still believed it was Jesus and being good.

She opted to wait a little bit, maybe tomorrow.

But tomorrow came, and she seemed distant and disconnected. During song time, she sat with her face scrunched into a frown.

"Is there something wrong?" She shook her head no, not looking at me. "What's wrong?"

Face unscrunched a little, she looked away. "I'm just bored."

"You lie like a rug," I thought. But I didn't push it.

Previously so close to accepting Christ's sacrifice for her, she continued the day detached whenever spiritual things were brought up. When asked why she didn't want to bring a bible or her verse crafts home, she sighed heavily and evasively replied, "It's a long story."

Suddenly it dawned on me: her parents must have corrected her when she went home with tales of the gospel.

The week of VBS is now over. I wanted it to go on and on, week after week, that I might continue learning to teach better and getting to know these kids. I may never see Charlotte again, we met at a different church than I go to, in a different suburb than I live in. I wonder, if I had pushed harder, made a clearer invitation to receive Christ, taken her aside, done anything differently - would she then have become a Christian? But no, it is not a prayer or a profession of faith that saves, but faith itself. I don't want to talk her into stepping across the line on the yellow folder. She must choose it herself.

She now knows the truth. It is up to God to help her believe it.



The person I used to be.

“We all change, when you think about it. We’re all different people all through our lives. And that’s OK, that’s good, you gotta keep movin...