Sunday School Antics

For several years I taught the Junior Boys Sunday School class comprised of 4th, 5th and 6th grade boys. As you can imagine, there were Sundays when I would scratch my head to try and figure out the purpose for putting myself through that kind of torture. I usually ended up with a headache on Sunday afternoons after trying to instill the simplest of Bible knowledge into the heads of those hyper-active boys. Don’t get me wrong, there were many good Sundays too when I could go home with the satisfaction these boys were going to grow up with so much wisdom they would all look back and accredit me the depth of their spiritual discernment. Yeah, right!
Brice was one of those kids you could look at and know he was thinking of some way to disrupt the class. He wasn’t mean; he just loved attention and the notoriety he got from being the class clown. Unfortunately, at that age, the class clown can wield more influence than the teacher. One particular Sunday, Brice was determined he was going to rule the class that day. As I was imparting my vast wisdom to their young, pliable minds, Brice began drawing funny pictures. The funny pictures escalated into caricatures. Before I knew it, nearly the entire class was drawing funny faces of people in the church while I was trying to teach the Ten Commandments or some other worthy Biblical topic. Between sentences I would have to raise my voice and say, “Guys!” or “Ok guys, listen up.” much to no avail.
Finally, I had all I could take and I gave Brice a stern look and told him if I heard one more peep out of him I would send him to his mother. He knew I meant business and I’m not sure if he was more afraid of getting sent to his mother or if he was horrified at the thought of me being mad at him….maybe both.
The very next Sunday as I was in the classroom preparing visual aids, Brice was the first one to the room and he sheepishly came up to me and slowly handed me a 3”x5” index card with something hand written on it. I thanked him and he turned to take a seat and folded his hands on his lap with his back straight against the chair. I sat in my chair and read the card he had handed me:

“Dear Mr. Taylor,

I am sorry I am bad at Sunday school. I will be good for now on. You are a good teacher.

Love,
Brice”

I choked back the tears (because it’s not manly for the teacher to cry in front of his students) and I realized I was there for a reason; if for nothing else than to be a beacon to guide Brice’s wandering ship.
Brice has since moved away, but I still carry that index card in my Bible to remind me that God does use each of us to impact the lives of others. Even though Brice is now grown and headed off to college, whenever he is in town I can count on a firm handshake and a hug around the neck.

--"What matters in this life is more than winning for ourselves. What matters is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing our course."