The Little Sheriff: What Christianity Means to Me
The Little Sheriff: What Christianity Means to Me
I worked as a youth pastor for six months. Halloween happened during my brief employment with the church. At the time, I really loved being a pastor. I thought it was the perfect job for me. One of the holidays that my stretch included was Halloween, and I was in charge of the Halloween party (though I was told not to call it a Halloween party but a Harvest Festival – which I thought was kind of weird, but that was the rule…). Anyway, the head pastor gave me the number of a “rich” guy whose family theoretically went to our church, but in actuality only came to church at Christmas time. Apparently, the family wasn’t particularly keen on the pastor. Nevertheless, I was told to call him because he had a barn that I was to procure for the evening’s festivities. So, I called him, and his wife answered the phone. I introduced myself. She was very kind, and said I was welcome to check out their new barn. If it worked for us, she said her family would love to host the party. The pastor, his wife, and I drove out to their property. The wife and her four-year old son met us as we pulled up into their driveway and walked us around. I wish I could remember their names. They were both so nice. Anyway, the little boy was as well behaved and as polite as anyone I have ever met. He was quiet and held his mom’s hand the whole time we were there.
Then at the end of our tour, the pastor’s wife said to the boy, “Next time, you just need to be a little quieter.” She was trying to be funny, but the effect was as if someone had spray painted the Mona Lisa in broad daylight. No one moved. I glanced around at everyone quickly and like everyone, I wasn’t sure what to do. The pastor was looking straight ahead as if nothing was said. His wife was looking off into the distance, somewhere between nonchalant and oblivious. The little boy’s mom was looking horrified, and the little boy was looking like he was ready to cry. I imagined in that moment how, perhaps before the tour, the little boy had begged his mom to let him join the “big people,” and his mom saying, if you do, you must be quiet and behave. I imagined the little boy having promised, and mom saying if he was good, she’d give him a treat when everyone left. I could envision such a conversation between the little guy and his mom before we got there. But the reality of how things were now was radically different. I didn’t know what to say. No one seemed to. I’m sure the pastor’s wife just thought she was being funny, but her joking sarcasm didn’t land well, and, unfortunately, she didn’t apologize. In the moments that passed, it seemed that neither the pastor nor his wife was going to say anything, but somebody had to. Of course, I didn’t feel excellent about reprimanding the pastor’s wife in front of her pretty temperamental husband – the guy who signed my paychecks – but doing the right thing does not always come at a convenient time.
When it comes to protecting feelings, for me, the little kid is going to win every time. So, I opted to comfort the boy. I could always get another job I thought. I squatted down, so I could look him in the eyeballs. “Hey!” I said, a touch abruptly. I needed to distract him from his thoughts. “I was wondering if you could help me with something?” He looked at me probably wondering, “what? me? who? what?” Or, something along those lines. I continued. “You know sometimes grown-ups say things that are just not right. I don’t know if you’ve ever had that experience before, but sometimes it happens that grown-ups say things they just shouldn’t say. Have you
ever had that happen to you?" He looked at me not sure what to say. He nodded his head slightly. "Do you think you would be willing to help me?” I asked. He nodded his confused little head once again. “Yes,” he said. I responded, “Great, this next weekend we are going to have a great big party here in your barn, as you probably know, and there are going to be an awful lot of adults here that may …” (I was spit-balling at this point.) “… that may need…. a sheriff… to keep law and order. Do you know anyone who could be a sheriff for me to make sure the big people behave themselves?” The beginnings of a smile started to brighten the little boy’s face. He looked up at his mom to get her take on the matter. She looked at him quite lovingly and said, “Would you like to be a sheriff this year, honey?” He was now truly excited at the prospect. “Yes I would,” he said emphasizing his enthusiasm by bobbing his head up-and-down in the direction of a firm, if-that-would-be-okay-with-you-mom. “Could I?” he asked. His mom quickly said, “Of course you can.” And for the first time since I saw him that day, he let go of his mom’s hand and clapped his hands together. “Yay!” He smiled broadly, and his mom said, “Then we better get inside and start planning.” As she was saying her goodbyes to the pastor, his wife, and me, she whispered to me under her breath, “You know this is going to cost you a sheriff’s outfit, don’t you? I said, “It was a calculated cost and yes, of course I do.” Neither the pastor nor his wife ever said anything to me about the newly appointed sheriff on the way back to the church – or anytime thereafter.
I went sheriff outfit shopping later that afternoon. Many of you probably already know how difficult it is to find a sheriff’s outfit for Halloween. Eventually, I did find a Woody outfit from Toy Story (which is totally cool because he’s a sheriff), but finding a gun proved impossible! Then I remembered I had a Y2K flashlight that lit up when you pumped the handle. I thought this would be a good substitute for a sheriff’s gun, since most of the evening it will be dark. The new sheriff could shine his “gun” on anyone who was causing trouble. A friend of mine, Tia (a great person), showed up at school the next day (I was going to seminary at the time.) with a HUGE sheriff’s star that read “Sheriff.” Where she found it, I will never know, but man did that help make the outfit! The badge was half the size of the chest of our newly dubbed sheriff.
One thing I had yet to find was a deputy for this newly appointed sheriff. Certainly, I could have played the deputy, but it just didn’t feel right. Then I heard about Big John. Big John was a big dude! He was the father of one of the students in our youth group. I had never met John before but heard he was like 6’8” and a big, strong guy! I called him up and told him of my plight. I said I thought it would be excellent if he could attend the party and be the deputy to a four-year old sheriff with a flashlight for a gun. John said, normally he would not be into such a thing, but he felt the cause was a good one and would be happy to be the deputy. I was thankful.
When Big John got there, he drove the newly appointed sheriff around on an ATV. Finally, the last thing our sheriff needed was a supply of tickets for writing citations. He was given a pile of post-it notes and a pen, so he could issue official citations to anyone who dared to get out of line. I am happy to say, our sheriff (although he had to cite TONS of misbehaving adults), did keep our party alive with good cheer and orderliness.
At the end of the evening, the sheriff’s mom came out to thank me for caring about her son. She said he was soo excited the whole week leading up to the party, and he had an amazing time riding around with Deputy John. I told her, “You know there’s a Bible lesson in this. If the pastor’s wife hadn’t made the comment and/or your son’s feelings hadn’t been hurt in the first place, he never would have experienced such an amazing evening. I said, sometimes the LORD allows difficult moments in our lives in order to provide an opportunity to uncover an even greater joy.”
What Christianity Means to Me: We mustn’t carry grudges against those who have hurt our feelings, made us cry, or in some way tossed dirt in our faces. Sometimes we are better served by blessing the dirt and planting flowers.
