Day 24

"Anybody want to volunteer for a game?" I asked. Then my eyes scanned over the sea of red faces…drippy wet hair was matted to their foreheads and smiles were plastered from one cheek to the other. My eyes were darting around frantically searching for the two teenagers with the most passion [in this case when I use the word passion I'm politely stating that I was looking for teenagers who would get the most riled up and possibly throw a fit]. I chose two boys carefully and then I carelessly pointed at two more teenagers who were merely participating in the game as a control group. I called all four kids up to the front of the room and then I started in on the rules of the game. Each duo begins by deciding which partner will stand on the trash bag and which will bring their A game from behind the white line drawn on the concrete. The crowd starts to discuss the fate of the trash bag dweller, "Something is gonna get dumped on the trash bag guy"…"I'd pick the white line if it were me." I must admit my cheesy youth minister mind started getting excited at the thought of bringing home the point with this messy little exercise. I laid out the guidelines of the game as I revealed twin cans of Duncan Hines chocolate icing. "One partner from each team will cover their entire face with the can of chocolate icing and the other partner will have half a box of cheerios to throw at their partner's face for thirty seconds. The chocolate-faced-participant with the most cheerios stuck to his face at the end of the game wins." I count down to the beginning of the game and the insanity begins. One team clearly has a better technique than the other right off the bat…handfuls of Cheerios are being hurled at the brown blob with eyes while the losing team is still throwing lob passes at his opponents half-clean face. The game ends and globs of chocolate are plopping onto the concrete as volunteers try to count the number of Cheerios embedded in the brown, dripping mess. It is quickly decided that the handfuls of high-speed Cheerios had proven successful and the crowd isn't shameful about their support of the winning team. At this point I am so sure that all things have worked according to my plan. I begin digging in my Harris Teeter bag and two $10 I-Tunes gift cards materialize in front of the contestants. I publicly congratulate the winning team and in my most dramatic voice [I'm not very good at dramatic…maybe this was the beginning of the end] I award the losing team with the two gift cards.


I'm not really sure what happened next. The plan was for the two winners, one drenched in chocolate icing and the other out of breath from fierce Cheerio throwing, to lose it in front of the whole crowd…huffing and puffing and saying the ever famous teenage line, "that's so unfair." Then I was going to talk about how we are sinful humans and we have become so sure that we DESERVE things…for example a relationship with the Lord that includes things like forgiveness and mercy. As one winner made his way over to the hose and the other made his way back to his seat I picked my jaw up off the floor and began commending their good sportsmanship and did the only thing left to do…made fun of myself for not seeing that coming.


These two teenagers [humanity's deeply self-absorbed demographic] just displayed the very characteristic that I came to confess was weighing on my own heart. A bit of hope swept over me…and I might still be on a high from that evening. Sometimes experiencing an act of humility…or even being in the presence of a very humble person feels like one of the most divine, spiritual encounters. Recognizing our own inadequacy brings us to a vulnerable position before the Lord. A position where we are entirely moldable for a moment…it is almost non-human to give up total control and become the clay in our Maker's hands. I am thankful for this momentary revelation of unworthiness in the story of the prodigal son as he scripts his homecoming, "I don't deserve to be called your son."


Jenna Trapasso