Petty Theft and Arson
If you met me today, you would think to yourself, “This is someone who has lived an average life. He never did anything worth notice. After all, he is a pastor and their lives seem rather boring.”
Just because someone grows up in a Christian family, it doesn’t mean that they will come out squeaky clean. Actually, it is almost impossible to make it out of a Christian family without some horrible happenings. Christian families tend to have more rules than the Sanhedrin. Besides, our sin nature gives us a built in desire to do things we know are wrong: to push the limits, to stretch the envelope, to color outside of the lines. Christian families are often so strict that anything fun is considered sinful. It is sort of like my favorite diet saying, “If it tastes good, spit it out.”
I love those party games where you are supposed to list several truths about yourself and one lie. The object is to tell such outrageous things about yourself that the others cannot tell which one is the lie. I have done so many truly outrageous things that these games are a breeze for me. And it is outrageously funny to watch the faces of church members as they hear some of the things their pastor did as a child. Below is an example for you. Try to guess which of the three is a lie. Now don’t look at the answer until after you have guessed.
1. I had a criminal for stealing
2. I spent a night in jail
3. I had a criminal record for arson
You can see why some of the people in my congregation may have been confused or even a little concerned. Some may have even thought that it was time that the personnel committee started running background checks on their ministers before presenting them to the church. The fun thing about a game like this is that you never really know the whole story until after you try to guess which is a lie. Then the person gets to explain.
When I was about three, in those days of “Leave it to Beaver,” “Gunsmoke,” and “Brady Bunch” (in other words… in a world that has long disappeared), my five year old brother was taking me for a little unsupervised walk around our community. While this part may seem shocking to some, there was nothing illegal about that. While on our walk, my brother decided that it would be a good idea to peek into everyone’s mailboxes. Perhaps this was a bit nosey, but still not illegal. However, my brother also thought it would be a good idea to remove their mail, open the letters, and pocket any money he found. Even though I was simply an innocent bystander, the police declared me guilty by association. My brother and I were both given criminal records for mail theft.
No, we did not spend a night in jail for this act of mail theft. However, you would think that we would have been guarded round the clock like the cons we were. But it was not an era of keeping children inside under the watchful eyes of parents. Children were encouraged to go outside to play. Parents nagged us to get out from if front of the television and go out into the world to explore. And when you let loose two young, energetic, wild-eyed young boys, they will find many ways to explore that world. While I was in effect guiltless of the first crime, I had enough free time on my hands to get involved in others.
My brother and I traveled all around our neighborhood looking for ways to get into trouble. We lived close to a Boys Club and could have spent much of our free time there playing foosball, pool, outdoor sports, swimming in the indoor pool, taking art classes, and more. Our father gave us the money we needed to pay for our yearly entrance fee: a quarter.
Now a quarter may not seem like much to you, but it was the equivalent of an entire weeks pay to us. That is because it was an entire weeks pay to us. That is the most we ever received for our allowance. A quarter did go much further back then, but my brother and I decided to take those quarters to the local 7-11 to buy pockets full of candy instead of a year’s entrance to the Boys Club. During that year we simply climbed over the back fence to sneak into the Boy Club. We were eventually caught and kicked out for the remainder of the year. I showed my anger by picking the locks on all of the bikes parked out in front and locking them on the wrong bikes. My brother showed his anger by…well, maybe I should just leave that transgression out of this tell-all tale.
At this point there is something that you need to understand about the logic of a six year old boy: anything your eight year old brother tells you must be true, because he is, after all, eight which is many years older than six; and eight year olds are way smarter than adults because an eight year old understands the needs of a six year old far more than someone who is at least twice that old. My brother believed that a pocket full of candy overrides any punishment that you might possibly receive in the future, especially when that punishment is not a certain thing.
How did we learn to sneak candy out of the store? Was it too much television? Not likely, since we only received three channels and the most interesting thing on during the day was Sesame Street or The Electric Company. I guess you could say our pocketing technique was something we learned from home. My mother was a great pocketer. She did not sneak things out of stores; she snuck things into the movie theaters.
My parents would take us to the movie theater on the Little Creek Amphibious Naval Base. That was because the year old movie that they played cost much less to see. But the concession stand prices were still as high as other theaters; therefore, my mom would fill her pockets with candy and homemade popcorn. When I pointed out the sign that clearly said, “No outside food allowed,” she told me to be quiet. We were not allowed to start eating the pocketed food until the lights went out and the movie started. Then my prim and proper mother quietly removed the candy and popcorn from her coat pocket and passed them down the aisle. There was even a time when she brought us each a can of soda to drink. We did get a few curious stares when we each popped the top on our sodas.
I can imagine that you are beginning to think that all of this stealing must have been the cause for spending a night in jail. Actually, I will jump the gun to tell you that while I was locked up in a jail cell once, I never spent the night in one. And the time that I was in jail had nothing to do with my guilt. I was visiting the Rockville prison with my Sunday School class when I was in fifth grade. Our Sunday School teacher was a police officer. He took us to visit the prison where he worked. While walking around the cellblock, he allowed us to go into a group cell that was empty. I don’t remember who actually closed the door, but we soon discovered that our Sunday School teacher did not have keys to the cell. We had to stay inside the cell for about an hour while they tracked down someone who had a key. In truth it was probably only five or ten minutes, but that is the same as an hour in “jail-time.”
Now you know that the other truth about me was the arson record, which obviously has its own story. I was not a pyromaniac, but as all little boys I was intrigued with fire. The dancing flames and flickering patterns are mesmerizing. My brother and his friend thought so also. That is why they took a box of matches they found just lying around inside my dad’s cigarette box. My dad no longer smoked, but he kept the box and cigarettes as a reminder of why he no longer smoked. My brother and I used to sneak cigarettes from his box until we were caught and learned how smoking made it difficult to sit down—my dad taught this important lesson to us using his favorite belt.
My dad’s box of matches was not going to be used for smoking this time. My brother and his friend had some different plans that day. They walked to the end of our dead end street where they hid in the tall grass and excitedly discovered one of the earliest inventions of man…fire. At about the moment, my mom had completed using fire to cook our dinner, so she sent me to call my brother in for dinner. I discovered him with his friend at the new bon fire. By the time the fire department arrived to put out the raging inferno, my brother, his friend and I were covered with soot and sporting a new fashionable look—singed eyebrows.
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’” Matthew 25:21
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