Last week I found myself outside ‘Function World’ in Port
Shepstone, looking like a lummox while making a mess of trying to herd helium balloons
into a car. A howling south-easter made the whole exercise all the more
hazardous. Paranoid about losing my grip I imagined R500’s worth of balloons
all slipping through my fingers and floating away into the great beyond. Adding
to the dilemma it soon became clear that a Citi Golf does not have the capacity
for 55 balloons.
Noticing my predicament a crazy homeless guy on the side of
the road quickly came to my aid. With wild eyes and swinging arms he shouted a stream
of unclear rebukes at the balloons, I think demanding that they behave. With my
hands full, I was at his mercy as he pressed me into the car and forced the
door closed behind me, to the sounds of balloons squeaking and popping in
protest. Turns out a Golf’s limit is 51 balloons.
I was on my way out to a youth camp in Oribi Gorge
and had a serious camp silence planned. I wanted to give the teens an opportunity
to contemplate and pray and to write down things they wanted God to remove;
like past hurts, sins and unhealthy attitudes, and then for them to attach these
things to a helium balloon and let it go.
There were 47 campers and I was down to 51 balloons.
Arriving at the campsite two over excited teens opened the back door without
thinking, prematurely liberating three of my precious cargo. Now at 48 balloons
my left eye began to twitch. I had to put on my grumpy-face to protect what was
left. Thankfully, this together with a fearsome growl, got the rest of thel balloons into the hall unscathed.
Later with all the teens gathered I started explaining how
the exercise was going to work. It was at this moment I heard a deep breath being
taken from behind me. Tapping me on the shoulder a little fourteen year old mischief,
asked in a helium induced screech, “what we going to do with these?” It took all
the resolve I could muster to not grab him and squeeze him like one of my daughter’s
squeaky toys.
I was beginning to lose hope that this plan was ever going
to work, but thankfully in the end God brought it all together. Teens have an
amazing way of surprising you. Just when they’ve annoyed you to the verge of
your limit, just when you think they’re beyond reaching and never listen to a
thing you say they do something profound.
With exactly one balloon left for everyone, as each person
took theirs an almost instant quiet, or should I say stillness, came
over the campsite. No more joking around, no more kidding about, they all went
off in silence on their own. In time, when they were ready, balloons began to
slowly take off; each being let go and disappearing into the distance.
After all had been
released we came back together to break the silence. Then I don’t know who
started it but spontaneously the teens began among themselves to turn to one
another and, greet each other with these words, “It is finished they
are gone, he has taken them away.” With that God’s forgiveness and release became
tangible among us as though a heavy weight had been lifted. People’s faces shone.
Nothing like a group of teenagers and a few
red balloons to be reminded of God’s love, reminded of God’s forgiveness,
reminded of why I want to be a minister in the first place.