To this day I still don't know why Jon Thompson befriended me. I was an awkward, overweight, slow, annoying fourth grader. Jon, on the other hand, was the biggest kid in the sixth grade. He was fast and athletic. Everyone looked up to him. He was, by far, the alpha male of the elementary school.
Once Jon and I became friends, we even developed our own secret handshake. Boy, did I feel cool! He even spent the night at my house once and talked me and my brother and my brother's friend into spending the night in our creepy, scary basement! That was a great accomplishment! Strange noises, lurking shadows and nearly complete darkness described our basement at night. I would never have been caught down there, alone, after midnight. We stuck it out until about 2:00am, then we drug our sleeping bags up the stairs-not that we were scared-no way! It was just "more comfortable" up there. I still remember my mom fighting back laughter as she met us at the top of the stairs as we explained to her our location change.
Although our close friendship lasted only a short time, I'll never forget what he did for me during one crisp October afternoon. In our small school, the 4th-6th grade boys had a combined P.E. class. During this time of year we often played football. Many of the guys played city-league football. I never did. My parents were against organized sports for children. I think the wanted to avoid the screaming, fighting, and ruthlessness that is so prevalent-not among the players, but the parents. So many of the guys dressed out for P.E. with cool football gear, receiver gloves, mouthpieces, and cool jerseys. Most importantly, they actually understood how to play the game. I wondered out to the playing field in over-sized hand-me-down shorts from my cousin Mike.
Of course, Jon was always one of the captains who picked teams. He, along with a guy named Mike Onion, would be responsible in dividing up the guys. Onion was farm-tough. He lived in some backwoods town, I think across the river in Ohio. He had about 4 siblings, and each of them were just as hard-nosed as Mike. In fact, I remember that Mike's sister made me cry once.
As the team picking begin, I fully expected to be well down the line of draft choices, as usual. There were all the 6th graders who had superior speed and size. Some of the 5th graders were good athletics as well. And even in my class, the fourth grade, there were some real football studs. Roy Rothemburger, Chad Hall, and Nathan Nelson towered over me like Shaq playing in a high school basketball game.
Yet, I never forget it, after Jon made several obvious picks, my eye caught his eye. I'm not sure exactly what was going through his mind-pity, loyalty to his firend, or just grace. But Jon gave me a gift that I certainly didn't deserve and will never forget. His eyes met mine, he nodded once and said, "I'll take Woodrum." Are you kidding!? Fourth overall pick for his team? As I walked toward Jon and the 3 other guys he had picked, I could see a look of disbelief on some of their faces. I was unworthy. I had little to offer this team. There were guys still standing in the draft prospect pool who where so much more deserving than I was. Yet he choose me!
I've been a full-time youth minister for over 12 years. During this time I have taught hundreds of lessons and facilitated countless small group discussions. As best as I can remember, I have never given a series of talks on grace. Something that occurred yesterday prompted me to think about this. I ask myself why this was? Something so at the core of faith and Christian Theology. Why would I avoid it? I think the answer is fear.
I think my fear is rooted to some degree in my personality, some in the way I view God, and partially in a concern that students will see grace as a license to sin and take advantage of God.
I have a "try harder" personality. All that is needed is a little more persistence, effort and commitment. But the bottom line for all this is fear. I fear looking weak.
I've coached my son's soccer team over the years. It's so much more natural for me to jump on him for doing bad than encourage him when he does good. "With more effort, you could have scored that goal!" "Why did you back down from that big kid, it won't hurt for long!" "Why didn't you listen to me when I told you to pass?" "You're scared, aren't you?" It's not about him, it's about me. My son better be good. My team better be respectful. This is the fear that is ingrained into my personality. It comes from pride. So grace doesn't come very natural when I feel like someone let me down or didn't perform well enough for me.
Then there is my view of God. This fear probably comes from growing up in a legalistic church where we heard about hell and God's judgment on a weekly basis. God was never quite happy with me. I usually felt guilty. If I sin, who was God going to kill in my family? I was wearied from the constant pressure and mind games I played with myself and from the constant mental negotiation I had to make with God. He was never happy with me and I feared not doing enough or being good enough for Him. I couldn't fully embrace grace.
Finally, there is the fear that grace gives us a license to sin. This is not a new one at all. The Apostle Paul was accused of this. He preached justification (being made right with God) based solely upon the free grace of God (see Romans 5-6) in the face of the Judaizers' works system. I fear that the students will think God is easy to run over, like my children feel about their grandparents. They love when we leave them with Mimi and Pappa, or Mamaw and Papaw for a few days. That know that all our rules will be basically ignored and they will get whatever they want.
Despite my fear, I will not avoid speaking of grace any longer. I cannot ignore it, push it aside, or remain terrified of the consequences of grace. Like the undeserving fourth grader on the schoolyard, God has looked me in the eye and said, "John, you're with Me!" I have nothing to offer and I am completely unworthy. My only response is to push the fear aside and receive this awesome gift, accept the undeserving hand that is reaching out to me and then extend the same grace to everyone else I come into contact with!
"When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father..." "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." Luke 15
Amazing grace!
The "Sin Box," was once a popular skit in youth groups. Someone would get into a box labeled "Sin." After a few moments of euphoria they would try to get out, only to find themselves "stuck." People would come by the box and offer suggestions on how to get out or condemnation toward the one stuck in "sin." Finally, a spiritual looking student, Bible in hand, would stroll up and offer this advice: "Trust God and Pray, He can get you out of there!" So the stuck guy, in desperation, would pray. ZAP! Effortlessly the student then emerged from the box-free from sin! This was usually followed by a good-meaning message about deliverance from sin through Jesus.
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