If you read last time, you know I am teaching in the preschool Sunday school class. Last week we learned about David and Goliath — inspired by finding a parachute in the teacher prep room. The kids have wanted to play with the parachute since we found it but I just couldn’t find a way to work it in until last week. We put foam balls in the middle and if you got hit you were “goliathed.” We played the various elementary games too with such a fun tool! It turns out the foam balls I had bought on a Christmas sale were Rudolph noses (or clown noses) — and if you can imagine, Sunday school class was a little, er, active. This morning, 5 days later, is the first day I am walking normally again — my poor underworked muscles!!! No parachute this Sunday.
I am learning from these little ones, though, particularly in our games and crafts together. Some children have to have all the rules spelled out before participating and even then have to contemplate their every move — like the little guy who took about a full minute to pick his Red Rover to come over — and the same with Duck Duck Goose, going around and around and around. Some want to copy the craft exactly and wouldn’t think to “color outside the lines.” And then, of course, there are others who think everything is okay until specifically ruled out — which often makes for progressive rule making and changing . . . it is a challenge to stay a step ahead of them all!
I gamed and crafted with my own children but don’t remember so much “re-directing” that needed to take place. This was not, I believe, because of some behavior of my kids, but because along the way they figured out how to behave in this family. And Sunday school class is bringing together 8-12 different family’s ways every Sunday and trying to make them coexist in relatively one way. No big revelation here, just what is.
Last night I talked with a friend about her Christian witness at her place of work — or her perceived lack thereof. She said her coworkers knew her as a “Jesus Girl” and that she attends church, but beyond that, her witness was not happening because of the nature of her employment. Surely many of us are not able to speak of Jesus in much of our day. She called it her “witness of omission,” particularly omitting snappy words and tempers! but not talking about God things either.
Maybe there is more to this “witness of omission” thing, though — like a witness of no intention, for good or for ill. It is that which we just do and live, not unlike these children in my class, having acquired such living along the way. It is perhaps the essence of who we are and the outflow of our hearts and habits — and our responses to those doing the very same thing. We witness like this all the time, with or without words.
Monitoring our intentions and omissions, our behavior and witness is probably no easier than managing a room full of 4- and 5-year-olds . . . but maybe no harder either, just, again, progressive.
Well, I just liked that, the “witness of omission,” hadn’t heard it said quite like that before, and wanted to put that thought out there today for someone else to say, Hmmm. Made me take a look at my own heart and habits . . . and think about how God wants me to live . . .
