My parents were pastors of a small church in a tiny Michigan village surrounded by farms. There was little age discrimination in the church made up of families that often spanned at least three generations, so the younger generation that made up the “youth group” was kids from ages 10 to 18. Those over 18 and the young parents made up the team of youth sponsors, leaders, and activities organizers. My mother was the youth minister and most youth activities took place at our house and yard and the bank of the St. Joe River that ran behind the church.
There were many fishing expeditions with fish fries afterward. There were nights we all met my mother in the city park equipped with our flashlights to catch night crawlers to fill our coffee cans with bait for catching catfish on our next night of fishing the cold river.
Three or four times a summer we loaded our trunks with fixins for a cook-out up on Dixin Hill where we would roast hot dogs to go with the baked beans and potato salad mother and the other parents had prepared.
But most of the time the campfires were in the empty lot beside Daddy’s big garden, where we unfolded camp chairs or threw down old quilts to sit on after we ate to have our singing and devotions and prayer.
Across the street from our garden and orchard lived a Seventh Day Adventist family with a daughter about my age and a younger toddler about two years old. Linda and I often played in our yard and sometimes in hers, swinging on the big swing that hung from the huge oak tree in their yard, catching fireflies or playing croquet in ours. Sometimes her mother would offer us peanut butter cookies fresh from the oven.
In fact, their house smelled of peanut butter because their diet was mostly vegetarian and used peanut butter as a protein source. They gave a lot to “missions”, Linda told me, so ate only chicken and fish if it was given to them. No beef, pork, or game. They, too, had a big garden, as big as Daddy’s, and her parents picked and canned vegetables and fruit for the winter.
One Saturday night we had a big youth party at our place. There was a big bonfire and a table set with food for a hot dog roast—green beans from the garden, baked beans, chips, and a huge bowl of mixed fruit and berries to have with the s’mores that were a youth night dessert staple.
While everyone was roasting hot dogs, Linda came across the street with her little brother in their red wagon. Their sabbath had ended at sunset, so now that it was dark, she was free to come over. I was about seven years old by then and remember feeling sorry that we were having hot dogs that their religion wouldn’t allow them to share. I snuck around behind the circle gathered around the fire and broke off a chunk of hot dog and gave it to little David. Oh, my! He loved it! His little eyes lit up as he savored every forbidden bite!
But what I didn’t know was that my mother had missed me and had circled around to find me. She had seen the whole thing and suddenly took hold of my arm and said, “Come with me.”
She led me inside our house where she sat me down in a kitchen chair. “Sit!” she said. “Now you listen to me. Don’t you ever let me catch you violating someone’s conscience by encouraging them to do something against their convictions. You knew Linda was old enough to reject meat, but innocent little David wasn’t old enough to understand. If his parents don’t eat meat, you must respect that! They are doing what they think is right. You have totally overstepped their boundaries. Now, you sit here by yourself for a while and think about that!”
Well, sit I did—missing the fun, missing my friend, and sorry I had caused her little brother to do something against her and her family’s principles. I also learned later that night around our own family prayer circle something that Jesus said that I’ve never forgotten: “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to sin, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”
Mother knew, she said, that I didn’t mean to cause a child to sin, but there was another verse I needed to know while I was young. “A person who knows to do right and doesn’t do it, to him/her it is sin.”
“Now,” mother said, “Now that you know, always respect another person’s understanding of what is right and sacred. Never be guilty of causing them to betray what they believe God wants them to do.”
We prayed as a family, and now that I understand the sacredness of our promises to God, I asked God to forgive me, and later confessed what I had done to Linda and asked for her forgiveness, too.
What I learned that night is that Jesus really does love the children, whether the children are literally young in age or babies in the Faith. And that that included me, too. The innocent of the world must be protected and never violated. Yes, Jesus really does love the children! They are a priority to Him.
