Broken crayons and misconceptions

In our church, we've started a broken crayons drive. We're trying to collect these imperfect colorful cylinders for next summer's vacation Bible school. I just saw the words "broken crayons" in our church newsletter and suddenly in my mind it was first grade all over again.

I started first grade at the age of 5. I have three distinct memories of that initial year in public school. I remember Terri Unger sobbing in the seat behind me, suffering separation anxiety from her mother. I recall being paddled by Mrs. Barwell for playing with chalk erasers. And I am reminded of Mr. Sarachine, the stern art teacher who warned us never to show up for class with a single broken crayon in our kits. Mr. Sarachine was a scary fellow to a naif like me. He was gruff-looking, and he prowled rather than walked around the classroom. He was a longtime wrestling coach at the high school and he seemed always to be in a crouch, ready to execute a two-point takedown on any first-grader who got out of line. Or so it seemed to me.

You can guess what happened. I broke a crayon. A yellow one. The day Mr. Sarachine was to teach art in our class, I told my mother I was sick. Mr. Sarachine, it seemed certain to my 5-year old mind, would explode with white-hot anger once he learned of my crime.

Mothers seem to have a built-in reality detector and, about mid-morning, she pried the truth out of me. She drove me to school and we had a sit-down meeting with Mr. Sarachine, who was shocked to learn of my mortal fear of him.

Mr. Sarachine treated me with kid gloves after that and, although I was (and remain) lousy at all things artistic, I remember him fondly today.

It's funny the things you build up in your mind. We fear so many things. Yet how often, in retrospect, did those fears turn out to be nothing at all?

Jesus of Nazareth, it seems, could smell fear. The gospels tell us in more than a few places that Jesus would enter a room or happen upon a crowd waiting for him and his first words were not, "Hey, how y'all doing?" No, his first words were more likely to be "Fear not," or "Do not be afraid." It was almost as if the Lord would smell fear on people.

I'm persuaded that Jesus knew how paralyzing fear is. Fear inhibits most everything worthwhile: love, compassion, acts of justice and mercy.

"Do not be afraid," Jesus said. I'm trying to remember his words and live them out as I recall that single yellow broken crayon of so long ago.

Jeff Long is pastor of Centenary United Methodist Church in Cape Girardeau. Married with two daughters, he is of Scots and Swedish descent, loves movies and is a lifelong fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers.