A Breaking Heart

This week, I am helping out with my church's Vacation Bible School. I'm a second grade counselor, and have been having the time of my life trying to control thirty-four rowdy seven- and eight-year-olds!

There is one boy in particular who has been breaking my heart. For the sake of this post, I'll call him Evan (not his real name).

I'd been having trouble with Evan all day. He had come with a friend, and the two of them would not stop talking. With a look at the friend, he would be quiet, but Evan would continue to whisper loudly. We clashed quite a lot this morning, over seemingly small things -- nametags, sitting up straight, pencils, screaming...

But after music time, after the rest of the second grade had left and I was about to follow, I saw the friend standing in the pew behind me. "Why won't Evan get up?" he asked me, looking down at the floor.

I told him to run along and I would get Evan. I quickly ascertained that there was nothing wrong with Evan; he had just decided not to obey the teacher. Assuming he was simply being his rebellious and troublesome self, I stood over him for a minute, just looking down at him. He glanced at me, then hid his head under the pew, sighing heavily.

"What's up?" I asked. There was no response.

I offered my hand, and to my surprise he let himself be pulled up. "Let's catch up with the others," I suggested, and he followed me out of the sanctuary back towards our room.

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked while we walked, noticing that he seemed unusually quiet. And despite his dislike for me, he was holding tightly to my hand.

After a very long pause, he said, "It's just, I always feel weak whenever I'm in a church. It happens every time."

I didn't know what to make of that. Was it simply an excuse for his misbehavior? Was he unused to being in a church, and young as he was, frightened that he would be judged? Isn't that a symptom of being possessed?

I had positively no idea what to do, regardless of which explanation was correct. So I did what came naturally. Before we rejoined the class, I led him into a quiet corner and asked, "Would you like to pray about it?"

Still holding my hand, he looked at me like I'd gone crazy. "What?"

"We can pray that you wouldn't feel weak when you're in a church."

He avoided eye contact and looked out the window. "I don't care."

"You don't have to pray," I assured him, "but do you mind if I do?"

He shrugged, which I took as a yes. I began to pray for Evan, that God would infuse Him with strength -- because He is the strongest being there ever was or will be. I prayed that Evan would be filled with the joy of God's presence whenever he came into His house. It was short, it was simple, but when I said "Amen," Evan was standing up a little straighter.

We didn't clash for the rest of the day. When he was upset about something later in the day, he came to me and leaned his head against me.

I don't know much about Evan's background. I do know that his parents do not come to our church, though I've no idea if they go to another. But when he told me what was wrong, regardless of the reasons, my heart broke a little for him.

Who knows if I'll see Evan again after this week. But I will continue to pray for him. I hope that as small as what I did was, that it touched him in some little way. And I pray that my heart would continue to break for those who are like him, so that I never forget to intercede on their behalf.

I would love for you to pray with me.