The Greatest Spiritual Lesson I Have Ever Learned
My fourth grade Sunday School teacher taught me the greatest spiritual lesson I have ever learned. His name was Mr. Henry. Mr. Henry has since passed away, but his lesson will live on forever in my mind. Amazingly, it was not a lesson from our Sunday School book that day, even though he taught us diligently from it each week. Instead, this lesson consisted of a disciplinary rebuke from Mr. Henry, delivered after he had gotten word of how a young boy had been treated in our class the previous week.
The boy’s name was Adam. And Adam was smaller than the other boys. He looked to me like maybe he was sick. I could not tell. I was sitting at the same table where he was that Sunday, but I did not say a thing. Yet, as I later learned, this did not make me innocent, as I had failed to speak up for him. That day, some other boys were making fun of Adam. They asked him what kind of watch he wore, and he answered that it was an Atlanta Braves watch. They laughed hysterically, as the Braves were the worst team in baseball that year. They then continued their jabs with other questions, each designed as a means of laughter at his expense. Adam’s spirit was crushed that day. And I remember how wrong it was. I remember how it made him feel, how hurt on the inside he must have been. Yet, I also remember how I did nothing.
The next Sunday, our teacher, Mr. Henry, who sported a flat top and was in his mid-forties, addressed the entire class. On this Sunday, Adam was not present. As a result, he took this opportunity to speak to the class in an extremely stern, yet calm voice. He was aware of what had happened with Adam the previous Sunday, how a group of boys had continuously poked fun of him and hurt his feelings. He then revealed to us that Adam was sick with a disease. This is why he was so small. He shared of how Adam’s mother was single and struggling to make ends meet. They had come to church that Sunday to receive love and support from the body of Christ, yet Adam had received the opposite from our Sunday School class. We had failed Jesus, he made it clear. The church is to be a place for those who are broken and hurting. And Adam and his mother were broken and hurting. We had embarrassed our Savior. We had misrepresented him through our actions, and we should beg our Lord for forgiveness. We should get on our knees and plead for a second chance. Mr. Henry then led us in such a prayer, as only a few children could hold back their tears.
After the prayer was over, Mr. Henry was clear that we had likely missed our opportunity to show Jesus to Adam and his family. Few people would return to any church after enduring such ridicule. “Let this be a lesson to you,” he said. “Do not EVER let it happen again.” We were all filled with shame. With regret. With sorrow. With guilt. We knew we had made a terrible mistake. And we were sorry. We wondered if we would ever see Adam again. We promised God that if we did see him again, we would show him Jesus. The class was dismissed, and we left in spiritual and emotional disarray.
A couple of Sundays later, one of the assistant teachers was summoned to the hall as we were having class. Noticing her departure, Mr. Henry followed her into the hall and then returned. He whispered to the class, “Adam and his mother are out there. His mother wants to be assured that Adam will not be treated the way he was before in this Sunday School class. God has answered our prayer and given us a second chance. Let’s thank him for this opportunity. Let’s show Adam Jesus.”
Adam sat at my table again, with the same boys who had ridiculed him a couple of weeks before. This time was it was much different though. The boys spoke to him, yes, but this time they uttered words of kindness, of encouragement, of love, of acceptance. They went OUT OF THEIR WAY to make Adam feel like he was royalty, to assure him he was among friends. “Would you like some raisins, Adam?” “Would you like to sit next to me, Adam?” I had never experienced such redemption in my ten years of living. I had never witnessed the love of Jesus shown to a young boy like I did to Adam that day, who smiled from cheek to cheek.
I owe a lot to Mr. Henry. I have two seminary degrees and have been in ministry for twenty-five years, but the greatest lesson I have learned about the purpose of the church came from my fourth-grade Sunday School teacher, Mr. Henry. God rest his soul. I don’t know what happened to Adam or those boys, but I bet they have never forgotten either. It’s hard to forget a lesson like that. So, never underestimate your kindness to others, especially in the house of the Lord. Be careful how you treat others, especially in the house of the Lord. You do not know the burdens they carry. You may be the only Jesus they ever see. Are you representing him well today?
