…and a little child shall lead them. Isaiah 11:6
A redwood grove in the Santa Cruz mountains, a determined child, a simple tool to break the ice.
The Annual All-Church Retreat.
We were each given a little book, assembled like a passport. “Have as many people sign it as possible (like a stamp from each port of call), and as you exchange signatures, take a few moments to get to know each another.”
Some left the passports in their rooms, pages blank and forgotten, but others were more cooperative, awkwardly tapping shoulders of people they had never met.
Then there was Jason, six years old, but wise in his intuitive grasp of what was needed. Passport and pencil in hand, he wandered the camp, approaching each of us in turn. Earnest, purposeful, he spent the weekend covering the pages of his book–name after name.
Saturday evening the leaders awarded a prize for most signatures gathered–a teenaged girl raised her arms in triumph. Jason was undeterred–the prize was not what mattered.
At the late-night concert I watched him walking up and down the aisles, pointing to each person in turn, searching his memory, silently pursuing. Stepping over our feet to claim one more for the book, he seemed oblivious to the music or the propriety of his actions. His mom told me Jason was normally shy, and uncertain around strangers. I was filled with wonder at his tender, tenacious spirit.
What The Passport Reveals
Sunday morning found Jason still looking–145 names, but was there someone he had missed? We gathered in a grove of redwoods for the closing service–worship, praise, communion, sharing. The pastor asked, “What do you want to thank God for?”
A lonely widow stood, tears streaming down her face. “Bless you, whoever gave us this way to welcome each other. So many Sundays I try in vain to catch just one person’s eye. Everyone is so busy, rushing off with things to do. It meant so much to have many of you approach me. Please, let’s keep doing this.”
A young man, awkward and slow of speech, grabbed the microphone and agreed, “You were all so nice to me! I’m used to people being mean. Thank you.” He cried, too and told us he loves us.
Others stood, the sharing continued.
But the leaders were choked up, something holy was happening. Someone was there, tapping on our shoulders, tugging on our hearts. We grew silent–no one knew how to express in words what we felt.
It crossed my mind we should take off our shoes.
Drew was asked to close the service. He hesitated a moment and stood, holding something above his head. “Here is my benediction: I have in my hand Jason’s passport. We are all in it. No one is left out, we all matter.”
What else was there to say?
Christ walked among us in the guise of a little boy one weekend. And we, his church, for one shining moment looked just like Him.
How many names are in your passport?
[I shared this story my church’s newsletter eleven years ago. Congratulations to Jason, now a high school graduate! Years have passed, but the Spirit of Christ still pursues, pointing to each one of us in turn…]
You may also like: Life Is A Group Project Hope For A Small Heart Goodness Happens.
