Breakfast - 2 bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch
Lunch - bites of a brownie
Dinner - gnocchi with meat balls
Cookies
This evening I met a kid who remembered me. I met him once.
In 2007.
High school was a very formative time of my life. I grew a
lot in those four years, as most kids do. You could chart my path as a high
school student as follows: 9th grade - cool kid, 10th
grade - judgmental douche, 11th grade - maturing teenager, 12th
grade – liked again by most people.
I became a judgmental douche because I fell victim to the
unfortunate extreme consequence of being raised as a legalistic Christian. As a
high schooler, I did not approve of underage drinking, drugs, sex, the usual (I
still do not approve of these things, but fortunately my reasons and reactions
to these things have changed a little bit). So when all the kids in my
grade started experimenting and getting involved with these activities, my
close circle of friends and I put up a wall. We were so afraid of possibly
getting sucked into sin that the only way to avoid it was to be on the complete
opposite end. Our defensive mechanism to unchristian actions was unfortunately
an unchristian action. We didn’t love, we judged.
10th and 11th grade was quite the
journey for my friends and I. I remember there was this string of months when
no one would come visit our lunch table. That sounds silly when I read it out
loud, but we’re talking about a high school lunchroom full of social
butterflies pre-smartphone era. Visiting lunch tables was what kids did. But
they didn’t visit us, because they legitimately believed we were “arrogant
jerks” who thought we were “better than everyone else.” Yes, I’m quoting
someone. This was actually said to us. Multiple times.
I remember when we started to turn the corner towards the
end of junior year.
We were maturing and learning that Christianity isn’t rooted
in legalistic truths that should be capable of guilting humans into fearing
God, but rather that Christianity is an unrestricted love that should be
demonstrated in radical action. Our reaction to the actions of our peers
shouldn’t have been judgment, but should have been radical love demonstrated in
a tangible way. We had just wasted 3 years of opportunity.
Senior Year
One year of high
school left. One year to have an impact.
God did some cool things that summer before our final year.
We actually hung out with kids we went to school with, rather than just hanging
out with our church crowd. We invested in a foreign student who went
through a challenging transition when his family left the states and made him
stay to finish his education. We organized trips to the beach and games of
ultimate Frisbee in the park. We got strange ideas and formulated plans on how
to make them happen. God really raised us up to be leaders.
The reason I’m writing this tonight, I guess, is because the
kid I (re)met this evening was impacted by… well, I guess by our leadership.
I remember my first day of freshman year. I remember being
terrified and intimidated and insecure about my clothes, hair, shoes, and
general appearance. It was like, all I wanted was to be calmed down and told that
things were going to be cool. That this was an exciting phase of life, not a
terrifying one. So I sat there on the edge of my senior year thinking of all
the new incoming freshman who were probably feeling the same way I had felt;
losing sleep and trying to pick out their outfit for the first day of school.
So I did something.
I baked cookies.
On the first day of senior year I visited lunch tables and
brought cookies.
I walked from one group of freshmen to the next group of
freshmen offering them some mediocre baked goods and telling them that it was
all going to be cool. That it was going to be exciting. That they had four
years of opportunity to look forward to, not four years of something
terrifying.
I’d be lying if I said a couple kids weren’t skeptical. I
was definitely asked if I put laxatives in the cookies. (In all fairness why
should a freshman trust a senior; let alone a senior guy handing out baked goods. wtf?)
But apparently it worked.
This kid I saw tonight, turns out he was one of those freshmen.
He took one of the cookies. He ate it. And he was calmed. And the way he
remembered me tonight and talked about our brief interaction that had truly stuck with him affirmed me that
Christianity really is about silly actions of reckless love.
This is a reminder that I definitely need right now.
Unrestricted love, not judgment.
And God always finds ways to encourage us in the things that are right.
I think an encouraging part of trying to be a Christian who
makes efforts to intentionally love is certainly the fulfillment you get from
accomplishing something from your heart. But I think the most underrated part
of trying to be a Christian who makes efforts to intentionally love is the
ripple affect that is sparked from those actions. The pay-it-forward that you never see.
Tonight I found out that four years later on this kid’s first day of his senior year, he
also walked from one table of freshmen to the next, handing out cookies,
spreading some love, and being asked if he had put laxatives in them.
