Go Tell It on the Mountain

I work with a bunch of kids who meet daily for the purpose of exploring arts in ministry. This is part of my job, the same job that made me think I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown yesterday, which happens periodically when you work with kids, I've discovered. Fortunately, kids change like the wind, and two consecutive days are never the same.
This group is in the process of making a devotional movie taken from a Max Lucado mini-study. They decided on film, and found the material for the film all by themselves. I embellished it a bit with a plan to use an interchanging film/drama set-up for their production. The film part of this piece of performance-art ministry involves metaphor. Like the chains on Marley's ghost, trashbags are used to represent the psychic/spiritual junk that people carry around with them every conscious moment. These trashbags are eventually given to the "trashman" (Christ metaphor) at the end of the film. Sounds a little cheesy as I read back over it, but the book (and therefore the script) are a lot less cheesy than my summary here.
Today, during chapel, our principal spoke about the lack of distinction between "sacred" and "secular" activities/music/films/etc. in the life of a person who seriously gives his or her life to Christ, for Christ will make every moment a teaching/communing moment. It depends on the perceptiveness of the person. Well, today was our day to stuff our prop-trashbags for the film. It hit me that we could make this a sacramental act and give a deeper reality to the film and our performance in it if we stuffed them as though they were the real thing. So I put on some quiet music, read them a devotional about giving this moment to Christ, talked about the symbolism as they put wads of newspaper in the bags--that they were to visualize putting everything in the bag that would be in their "real" bags. Then after the bags were full, they took Bibles and found scriptures that spoke to whatever they "put" in their bags. They recorded these verses annonymously on a community list, and at the end of the session, we shared aloud what was on list so that we knew what was "really" in our bags.
Their honesty and trust in engaging in this activity and sharing their hearts touched me deeply. The verses spoke of all the right things, the things that would indeed fill their bags if they were genuinely examining them: things like feelings of remoteness from God, things like being brokenhearted, being too legalistic; things like worrying too much, lying; and things like expecting to be able to handle anything and then being mad when they couldn't. These and more were what really filled the mound of black trash bags. As we soberly stared at the pile, I told them. "Now, it won't be acting."
Some days, like yesterday, when I took my Calgon bath and--upon submerging my ears and hearing my pulse in the water--wondered that tectonic plates weren't moving all due to the thundering vibrations I was creating...some days I think I'm crazy to do what I do...could I ever possibly offer anything good? I am so far from "perfect."
And some days, like today...I find I'm at the top of yesterday's mountain, and I don't ever remember the climb. But I'm surely grateful for the view.