Down Syndrome

It was about 17 years ago. Harley and I had just recently started attending a CMA church in Draper. The call went out for volunteers to paint cartoon characters on the walls of the nursery and the children's church rooms. A lady named Tracy, who attended another church, graciously volunteered to lead our volunteers in the painting process. When we arrived, Tracy was almost finished drawing the figures on the walls using a projector and pictures in copyright protected books. We were told by the Pastor's wife, Vanessa, to follow Tracy's instructions. "Simple enough," I thought not having any cartooning experience. Tracy told us to choose whatever color we wanted and just start filling in the drawings, but, if we put too much paint on our pallet, we were to find someplace else to put it before it dried on the pallet and was wasted.

Along about the time when one room had just about all the colors it needed and all the other women had moved on to the next room, I found myself with too much yellow on my pallet and thought that I would try my hand at adding highlights to some trees another woman, Jennifer, had painted all the same color. Needless to say as the day went on, Jen saw my highlights and chewed me out royally for messing up HER trees. I didn't think the trees looked bad just different. The trees certainly did not look out of character with the rest of the cartoon scene. After all, it was a cartoon, not a Rembrandt. 

Well the other women Julie, Vanessa, and Jen began to exclude me from their discussions, and yes, I heard them talking behind my back even though they were in the other room. The walls and empty rooms carried sound quite well. It wasn't very easy to hear but what do you do? Get angry? The Bible tells us to be slow to take offense. Do you go out and tattle-tell which is gossip and condemnation without a hearing? I had already had a long history of being blamed and knew there were three against one at this painting party... I don't have a history of people even wanting to hear my side of events let alone believing me when I tell them.  Helpless, I just kept painting as an attempted to hide my hurt. 

This is not a sob story to play on your sympathy so please do not go there. I just don't know any other way to help people see how their actions affect others. It is not right when church leadership attacks folks as combative, unloving, and insensitive simply for reminding others what is written in the Bible they are suppose to hold dear to their hearts. So, you see, I don't really have any other choice but to tell you about the actual circumstances and my responses or thoughts through them.

As the day progressed, it came time to address drawing the faces on the cartoon characters. When the question came up as to who would do it, Tracy told us that if we wanted to give it a try we were free to do so. Ok, cool, I thought I would give it a try on the one child that I had been working on so that I did not get scolded again for ruining the efforts of others. I had learned that lesson rather quickly.

The very first face I had painted free-hand was not at all like what Tracy, the pro, was capable of producing. But, I liked it. It reminded me of a child with Down Syndrome. So, I was content. After all, Jesus loves all the little children and this particular wall was filled with children running after a smiling Jesus. 

Well, the other room with Noah's ark wasn't finished yet so I headed back into it to help. Upon arriving the other woman cleared out an went into the Jesus room again. It happened almost instantly and multiple times upon entering a room where they were. While in Noah's room, I again heard them talking in the other room about the face I had drawn. It was very clear they did not like it and commissioned Tracy to redo it. Eventually, I went back into the Jesus room where Tracy and I were alone and I casually said, "Well, it looks like no one liked the face I drew." Tracy responded, "Oh no, I just needed to fix it." That's when I walked out because I could see with my own two eyes that the face was not "fixed." It was completely wiped off leaving a bunch of paint smears. 

Tracy had lied to me and I knew it because I had heard what was discussed before I even went into the room. I wasn't angry that she lied to me but I was aware that the Bible commands us to speak in private with a sinner caught in sin. So, I went and found Vanessa and told her what happened in order to ask Vanessa for permission to confront Tracy on the lie. Tracy was Vanessa's friend so I thought it only polite to consider Vanessa first. Well my conversation with Vanessa did not go well and Julie eventually chimed in just as Harley arrived to take me home. Basically, the conversation was about my attempt to confront in obedience with scripture and their human justifications for why I should disobey the scriptures. I was falsely accused of being angry with Tracy when in actuality I was angry with Julie and Vanessa for all the lame excuses they made.  Eventually, I dropped it and just went home. 

I've written about this event for one reason and one reason alone. Here it is. A couple weeks later, a young family visited our church for the very first time. At the end of the service, I went up to the mom who was in the process of collecting her young child from children's church. The child was in tears and completely distraught and said to her mom, "Jesus loves all the children but me." I could not believe my eyes and ears. The child had Down Syndrome and she pointed to the wall with all the perfect cartoon children following Jesus. I never saw that family again.

I cannot help but wander if church planters are so fixated on making the perfect church experience for visitors that they loose sight of their own form of legalism which is justified as "identifying" with the _______fill in the blank______. And perhaps... just perhaps....God is not so much concerned with the "sacrifices" we make to serve as much as He is with the lack of obedience that yields those worthless sacrifices.

Copyright (c) 2014 by Diane Pebley All rights reserved, no use granted without the express written permission of the author, Diane Pebley