Celebrate

"Well, Happy Birthday!" I said to him and his mom. I was standing by their crowded front steps gathering information and filling in the "Date of Birth" blank on his camp form when I realized that it was his holiday.

After wishing him well I tried to move on to the next question. I was not successful.

The man who was also sitting on their steps dealing drugs called into the house to his associates. He announced that it was the boy's birthday and they all got excited. They came to the steps, greeted him boisterously, gave him big hugs, and each handed him cash.

The party spread to the stoop next door and those gather all came over for the celebration. More gave money. Another flagged down the ice cream truck and got him a treat.

After a few minutes I could see that the spontaneous party was just getting started and that there was no use in trying to finish the camp forms that night. I headed to the next campers house knowing I would have to get the other mundane information later.

I was frustrated to not have the forms done. The deadline for their submission was looming and it was hard to find his mom at home, much less lucent. Who knew if I would even be able to get this taken care of.

These are the kinds of moments that I'm reminded just how much of a Pharisee I can be. Of all the people on the steps that night, I'm the one who preaches about Joy, Hope, Love, and Peace yet was totally unprepared to celebrate his birthday. Gifts, food, and accolades seemed to pour out of nowhere from among all the others. The only thing I could focus on was the line that said, "Emergency Contact Information."

Don't get me wrong. What I was doing was important and necessary. But I thought it trumped the moment of celebrating the importance of this kid.

When I read the Gospels again, I see how Jesus got in trouble (with the Pharisees and Martha and the disciples and others) because he was ready and able to celebrate the goodness he found, even with those pesky tax collectors.

And if I were that kid, I would have seen both a group of people who were ready to drop everything to celebrate me and a person who only seemed interested in information about me. With whom would I have aligned my allegiance?

So it's not surprising, really, that 12 years later he's taken over for the men who once sat on his front steps. Oh, we still visit and he has good memories of activities at church and his week at camp. They are simply distant memories that he was able to share with the ones who he felt loved him the most.

Lord, let love be my only debt.

Generations

After being cussed out by a dad who didn't appreciate the fact that his daughter had been in a church, much less that she participated often enough to earn a trip to the church's summer camp, I headed to the next house to try to get permission for another kid to spend a week at camp. On the short walk from one house to the next, I stopped on the corner to visit with some kids who had been to camp in the past. They were all dealing drugs and my visit slowed their commerce for a few minutes.

The futility of the situation didn't improve when the mom answered the door at the next kid's house. She was clearly strung out on heroin and nodded off as I talked with her.

Until she heard the word "camp," that is. Once that little word came out of my mouth she connected. Not with me, but I could see she was off in a different space than where heroin usually takes someone.

She turned to me and said, "When I was a kid I went to a camp with a church one summer. I want my kid to do that, too." She signed the forms.

It's so easy for me to get caught up in today. So much of life seems to be an exercise in banging my head against a wall followed by people complaining that I didn't bang it hard enough to do any good. And when I look only at today (and maybe the last couple of years) then I can only agree.

But that mom's lucid moment forced me to refocus through the eternal lens that disciples of Jesus are privileged to have. The woman's life was clearly a mess, but the faithfulness of the church of her childhood was opening doors for her son's future that might not have been otherwise open to him.

And when I can look through that lens I have just a bit of hope. That hope is not for today but for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I think of what could happen if Jesus' disciples will continue to surround and bless this family for generations to come. Is it possible that each generation could grow just a bit closer to Christ than the last? Could a family's testimony of growing in Christ from generation to generation empower disciples for generations to come?

When I look through that eternal lens, I can have some hope that the former campers who were dealing drugs that afternoon will not only let their kids come to church and go to camp but will encourage them to do so.

And I can hope that the girl whose dad cussed me out because she was in church got enough good seed planted in her so that she won't cuss out the pastor who comes by ten summers from now inviting her yet-to-be-born kids to a week of Vacation Bible School.

Because my God has plans for this world that are bigger than the span of my life. I get the privilege and responsibility of remaining faithful and being a blessing in this generation, trusting that other people of faith will build on those blessings in the generations to come.

Lord, let me see with Your eyes that I may see the worth You've put in each person and the hope You have for them and their descendants.