"Problem" Children

This week I had a Sunday School training with Karl Bastian, the Kidologist. The topic was discipline, and I was eager to learn. That's one of the hardest things for me as a Sunday School teacher.

I walked out with a lot of great tips. Grace based tips. Which I love, because I'm a big fan of grace. All new ideas I'd never thought of, heard of, or tried before. I'm eager to try this out.

But the thing that struck me the most wasn't so much a tip as it was a perspective. Which was pretty much the perspective that framed all the tips.

You know those "good" kids? You know, the ones who bring you Christmas gifts and say please and thank you and never disrupt class? You probably aren't going to make a difference in their life. Why? Because their lives are already on a good trajectory. They usually come from good homes, homes where parents are doing a wonderful job teaching them about faith and how to live like Jesus. If you weren't in their lives, they'd probably still turn out to be wonderful Christians.

You know those "bad" kids? The ones who interrupt your class with fart noises and start chanting "no more rules!" (the latter actually happened to me last week). The ones who make you want to use duct tape as a disciplinary measure or pull your hair out because you can't? This is your greatest opportunity to make a difference in a kid's life. Not by punishing them or yelling at them. Not by striving to change their behavior. By partnering with them and being their friend and helping them understand what it means to be a Christian. By helping shape their heart and showing them that Jesus loves them—when they probably feel like no adult loves them.

Karl accomplished his goal (at least for me): to make us want those kinds of kids more than we want the "good" kids. Because if I want to make a difference in a kid's life, it's not going to be in the angelic kid's life. It's going to be in the life of an unloveable 5th grade boy that I loved anyway.

Love Your Enemies

Jesus told us to love our enemies and pray for the people who persecute us.

So when 9/11 happened, I prayed. I prayed for the families of the victims, but most of all I prayed for Osama Bin Laden. My classmates thought I was nuts. How could I pray for a man who would commit such horrendous acts?

But I felt bad for him. How deluded, how broken, how lost was this man who would commit such horrendous acts?

This came up in conversation recently and someone asked me if that meant I'd pray for the man who abducted and killed Jessica Ridgeway. I hadn't prayed for him, but as I thought about it I realized that yes, that man needs my prayers too.

When I see people do terrible things like these, I think of Emmanuel, my former two-year old neighbor. Emmanuel was abused. I could hear him get hit, but because I never saw it happen child services wouldn't help. Emmanuel, at age two, was already mimicking this behavior, taking out his own frustrations by hitting his eight-year old sister.

And while I hope above all hopes that Emmanuel can overcome this childhood, I know that the odds are that he'll grow up to be the kind of man who beats his own wife and children. That's all he'll know. His sister Shoshanda? She might have a little more hope not to repeat the behavior...though she'll probably allow herself to be a victim all her life. I think boys tend to mimic aggression, whereas girls generally respond with fear and yet continue to trap themselves in similar situations.

I think about Emmanuel because I had this picture into his probable future when he was just two. I think about Bin Laden and how indoctrinated he must've been with evil ideas from his early childhood. I don't know the history of whoever killed Jessica Ridgeway, but he too was once just an innocent child.

I'm not saying all violent behavior results from childhood or bad parenting. But something must've happened to break these people. Maybe it wasn't in childhood. Maybe it was in college or adulthood. Either that or they have a mental illness causing their behavior. A loving, decent person without a severe mental illness doesn't just wake up one day, kidnap a ten-year old, and dismember her. Somewhere along the lines, someone probably hurt or indoctrinated these people so badly that they felt compelled to respond with evil.

Does this excuse their behavior? Absolutely not. What Bin Laden did, what Emmanuel's parents did, what Jessica Ridgeway's killer did...these are all terrible acts and I am in no way trying to justify them. And I can guarantee you that if these situations were closer and more personal to me, I wouldn't be able to have compassion on these people.

But maybe it's just because of my involvement in children's ministry, both within ministry and creating materials for it, but I can't help but picture these offenders as kids. I can't help but wonder what it is that broke them. I can't help but wonder...if someone had been able to capture their hearts with the love of Jesus...would the Twin Towers still stand? Would Jessica still be alive? Can we stop attacks like this from happening 20 years from now by helping today's children build a relationship with Jesus?

Lately I've become more sensitive to the depravity of the world. I'm moved to tears when I hear how sin and brokenness has crushed another spirit. And I've been thinking, "What can I do? What can I possibly do to stop things like Jessica Ridgeway's death from happening?" And for my part, I think that's where my call lies: to reach as many kids as I can today. To help them fall so deeply in love with Jesus that when things happen that might threaten to break their spirits and propel them into a life of abusing or adultery or even murder...they turn to Jesus and find life.

Could God use something I edit to stop a would-be Jessica Ridgeway repeater twenty, thirty years from now? I'll never know. But I know this: the acts of Emmanuel's parents are ones that will likely repeat in him. All I can do is act in a way that I want kids to repeat—and pray that God will let me pass that on in their lives.

Teachable Moments

I was in college, observing in a children's ministry classroom. The teacher asked, "What are some things you might do that would make your parents unhappy?" There were the usual, "steal, lie, make a mess," and then a little voice piped up, "kill myself."

The teacher was a bit taken aback, but quickly composed herself and said, "yes, that would make your parents unhappy" before continuing on with the next lesson point.

What was going on in this 4th or 5th grader's mind that the thought of suicide even occurred to him in that context? Was he contemplating it himself? Did he recently lose a family member to suicide? I'll never know.

Now it's quite possible that the teacher talked to him privately about his comment after class. I don't know, and I don't want to put her down without knowing. But I remember feeling appalled that she would just brush off a comment like that and move on because it wasn't on the topic of obeying your parents (the lesson's intended content).

Believe me, I know how hard it is to deviate from a plan. I know how much work it takes to prepare for a lesson, and then to feel the tension when it doesn't go the way you'd expected. I know how scary it can be to be put on the spot with something you hadn't prepared for.

But I feel like the teacher needed to camp there for a bit. Dig deeper. Get feedback from the other kids. Talk about healthy ways to handle bad emotions. Would the kids have gotten to the point of obeying their parents? Maybe not. But I believe the lesson they would've learned would've been so much more valuable, because it was personal. It would've showed that the teacher cared. It would've dealt with a felt need.

Teachable moments happen often. Sometimes they're big ones like that, ones that might derail your class entirely. Sometimes they are small ones that will just take you on a two-minute tangent. Either way, they're worth it. Pay attention to those opportunities to see a kids' heart and guide that child right where he is - even if it doesn't fit your plan. And pray that God will help you to be ready when those unplanned moments come.