I Spy with My Little Eye

I love seeing the best in others. It is transformative.

Ever since the first time we did affirmations at a church camp, it’s been one of my favorite activities. I’d spend the entire week watching, like a lioness stalking her prey, waiting to catch something special. I didn’t want to write down something obvious like, “cute” or “great hair” or “funny”. I wanted it to be something unique, something with meaning that would both encourage & inspire the recipient.

My wife & I were once asked to help lead a singles camp at Storm Mountain in the Black Hills. (I know, what business does a couple have leading a singles camp? I asked them the same question. They just wanted us.)

On the first night we did an exercise to demonstrate the power of words, both good & bad. We had everyone move their chairs into a circle, placing one chair in the middle. Each camper took a turn in the middle, sitting there as those around the circle took turns speaking one affirmation apiece to them.

It was a warm fuzzy kinda night. We even had a nice fire crackling in the fireplace.

Our intention was to shift gears at some point to help one another understand how destructive words can be. We knew we couldn’t do that to any of the campers. So, I was to be the victim, sitting in the middle while those around the circle hurled the worst abuse they could contrive at me.

We couldn’t do it. When we mentioned to the group that had been our intent but that it didn’t seem possible to make that kind of shift anymore, they were aghast. There was no way any of them would have been willing to participate.

The affirmations & warm fuzzies continued.

As I said, seeing the best in others is powerful. It’s transformative, especially when you name it.

Fast forward. We were no longer serving churches in South Dakota. My father-in-law had suffered a massive stroke & my mother-in-law was having a really hard time with it. We asked to be appointed across conference lines to Kansas West where we would be close enough to assist with his care & offer her support.

By this time, the two of us had been serving in parish ministry for well over ten years. We’d taught many a confirmation class. I’d even developed my own curriculum, expanding upon the Cokesbury resources we had first used.

I’d never had a class like this one.

Individually, all six kids (sixth graders) were a delight. Together, they were monsters.

Each Wednesday afternoon they came into class reveling over all the terrible things they had done through the school day to torture their chosen victim. They celebrated every time they had succeeded in reducing a classmate to tears. They schemed as one to choose their next target with fiendish delight.

I didn’t get it. I asked them why they would do something like that. They told me it was fun. I tried to get them to think about whether Jesus would approve of their behavior. They simply shrugged it off.

Our classes began early in the fall & continued all the way through Easter. After just a few weeks they had me frustrated & exhausted.

So, finally, one day I decided to do something different. I abandoned my lesson plan. After they’d had their lunch, I’d checked their journals, & we’d spent a little time playing a game I’d created, “Who Wants to be a Disciple?” (a churchy mashup of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” & “Weakest Link”), I had them move over to a circle of chairs I had set up on the other side of the fellowship hall.

In the middle of the circle, I had placed a large basin of warm water along with several washcloths & warm towels. I instructed them to remove their shoes & socks & set them to the side. Then I knelt before each one of them as I slowly & tenderly washed & dried each of their twelve feet. The only words I spoke were soft, slow & tender as I explained how Jesus did this with his disciples on the night before he was betrayed, including Peter who denied him, Judas who gave him up, Thomas who doubted, & all the others who abandoned him, hiding in fear. I told them how the scriptures intimate that he left no one out, & that would mean he included Mary who had been possessed by demons, Salome & Joanna & all the others who followed, cared & provided for them on their journeys.

At one point, one of them suggested that someone needed to wash my feet as well. Somber, & with a hint of sorrow in my voice, I replied, "No, not today."

When I had finished, I gave them their assignment for the week. They were to pay close attention to one another, spying if you will, in order to catch them doing something commendable that made them happy & which they could gladly affirm. Then they were to write it down on a piece of paper & slip it into their classmate's desk or locker, someplace they were sure to find it, but preferably without knowing who wrote it. On the following Wednesday they would be reporting to me what they had done & what had happened for them. If they missed one or two during the week, there would be grace for that. But they would be expected to make it up the following week.

We would also take time while we ate for anyone who wanted to share with the others what the affirmations they had received meant to them.

We said a prayer, after which they quietly departed for home.

We kept this up for the rest of the school year. The effect upon them was immediately apparent. By the end of the year, it had become firmly rooted. In all the time I have known them since, I'm sure they have said or done something cruel. But only rarely have I seen it from them. And it has always been followed by an effort to make amends.

I think of that class often. I always loved them, each & every one of them. But I am also incredibly proud of who they have become, both as a group & as individuals.

To me, they were & always will be proof positive that seeing the world & its inhabitants through rose-colored glasses should never be thought of as pejorative. It is transformative.

There are six little sixth graders I hold dear in my heart who remind me of that truth each & every day.