Today

Massive 4th & 5th grade small group today. Plenty of almost chaos. Even higher than normal number of memorable "walking conversations."

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As we were getting ready to take off on our Ninja game for the day (with a few modifications to fit the lesson) a few of my more active kids were almost literally bouncing against the edges of the hallway space we were in. They were excited. People were finally all back from vacation. And, we were combined with another small group, which threw them even more off kilter.

"MH," I caught his attention first, "come this way, dude."
"E, I need you over here so we can start."
"Come join us..." I hesitated for a split second over the fifth grader who had only been there once before, and I saw his face fall and then freeze into an eye roll, as if he was trying to convince himself that he didn't care whether I remembered.

"Kid?" He suggested softly, suddenly still, as if he was bracing himself for disappointment.
"Jake." The name was half a question but I watched as a smile danced into his eyes.
"Yep!"

Today a ten-year-old told me that he desperately wanted to be a person, a real person with a name and an identity.

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After playing Ninjas (and Sharks & Minnows), I asked one of the boys from the other small group to come back inside with us so that we could get a drink of water.
"I don't want to get a drink. I just want to die."
"What do you mean?"
"I want to get a machine gun and kill lots of people."
"Why do you want to kill people?"
"Because Iraq is mean."
Over the distance of a few steps, I clarified with him that he really was talking about the country and the war (because nothing kills a conversation like misunderstanding something a kid has told you), and emphasized the point that he was safe at church, which, looking back on it, was a rather odd thing to do. But, it made sense at the time.

Just like that, his entire body relaxed. That was all that he needed to hear. He didn't want to tell me why Iraq was mean or why he was struggling with so much bitterness (from the tone, I would guess that it had something to do with a family member). He just wanted to know, before we went back into the large group and the massive building, that he was safe.

Today a nine-year-old told me that he needed to be and feel safe.

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Later, the small group talked about determination, and it came up that sharing about Jesus with friends can require determination. I asked them if talking about Jesus was easy or hard for them. One of the boys looked at me and said, "It's easy, but only because I never do it."

He wasn't being snarky. He was being brutally honest, and there was a little bit of sadness in his voice and eyes as he said it, like he wished that it wasn't as true as it was.

Today an almost eleven-year-old told me that he wasn't perfect.

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Need to be known, need to be safe, need to be allowed to be broken.

What if grown-ups came to church willing to be that honest about their needs and weaknesses?