He told me to tell you that
From Baby Boomers like me down to Generation Z, the movie “The Sandlot” is considered to be a favorite. One of the great lines from the movie is, “You’re killing me, Smalls.” Scotty Smalls is one of the characters and the phrase has become synonymous with expressing frustration or discontent with someone.
I would think most of us have people like Scotty Smalls in our lives that drive us nuts or fail us consistently and constantly. If we were honest we just don’t like them very much. We love them and want the best for them but there is not a brotherly kind of love for these people. If they were on fire we would throw water on them but they are not getting an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner if you know what I mean.
We typically have about 150 people on our church campus on Wednesday nights. A good portion of them are kids from the community. During the summer it organically scales back and our children’s and youth ministries become more naturally focused on church family and it’s maybe a sweeter or more intimate time rather than an outreach to those who don’t have a church home or don’t know Jesus yet.
Last week a woman who is far, far, far from God (Did I say she is far from God?) and not a part of any church brought her three kids to the Wednesday evening ministry. Not only that, she brought three kids that were not her own.
In my business, we call this evangelism or multiplication and it’s a good thing. This woman was told she couldn’t leave her kids to hear about Jesus unless she stayed on campus and went to the adult Bible Study.
I get it. We are not a baby sitting service but at the same time I keep hearing Jesus say, “Let the children come to me and do not hinder them for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” (Matthew 19:14)
I also wanted to say to the person who told the woman her kids could not stay but was trying to do the right thing (believe it or not she was) “You’re killing me, Smalls.”
The argument I heard after this mid-week challenge was, “Well what if more kids from the community hear they can come to our ‘program’?”
What if? That would be a nice problem to have, right? Isn’t that what we pray for? Let the children come.
The hair I pulled out has grown back, but a week later I’m still shaking my head. I love the person that was trying and appreciate their leadership. Hopefully next time, we will rely more on Jesus and less on ourselves. He told me to tell you that.
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