I was relaxing in the summer sunshine with a young mum and her new-born baby. Not surprisingly, we ended up talking about parental hopes and dreams. What do parents most hope for their children? Not many would intentionally wish their child was ordinary or average, although many would opt for a happy child above academic brilliance, stunning good looks or success.
The GCSE and A-level exam result season will soon be upon us – two consecutive Thursdays in August when we see images of excited, young people (usually attractive girls), hugging each other and weeping joyfully into the camera lens. We are pleased for them. The future looks bright. But what of those who haven’t succeeded, those who will never get the glittering prizes, those who have other less conventional priorities? Their faces are rarely shown (and we wouldn’t want to intrude on their private disappointment or resignation). What will their parents think?
As we talked, my friend and I reflected on what sort of a carpenter Jesus was. Was he the best in town? Was he the quickest, with a click of his fingers turning wood he had originally created into a door frame? Maybe he only worked with high-quality wood to attract better off clients or because he scorned more ordinary wood. Maybe he offered a discount to the poorest. Was he the slowest because he was more interested in talking with customers than completing a commission? Did he experience times of hardship with a shortage of work or a shortage of wood? How rough or scarred were his hands? Maybe he was a run-of-the-mill carpenter, competent and useful, just an average working person, like the majority of us. God become an ordinary human being.
As I walked back from my friend’s home, I began to wonder how much I celebrate the average child in the Sunday group, or how much I set standards only possible for the most gifted and talented. I’m aware of those with learning difficulties, emotional or behavioural challenges but what about the average child? The disturbing thought is that I might not even notice the average child, especially if the group is large or they are infrequent members of the group. In my imagination, I pictured Jesus the carpenter smoothing down a plank of wood as he chatted with a customer no one else in his community bothered to notice or listen to. The crowds, which must have included many average people, loved what he said. The King James Bible records, ‘the common people heard him gladly’ Mark 12:37.
Jesus loves me without consideration of where I sit on the table of ‘gifted and talented’. The challenge for children’s and youth workers is to do the same. Maybe we need to intentionally identify the average children in our groups and grab every chance that arises for a one-to-one conversation with them. We could be in for some surprising discoveries.