Red balloons - sacrament

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.