YMJen

While in Arkansas two weeks ago for a summer mission trip, I met a 13 year old boy named Richie, someone the local principal had deemed “white trash”. In addition to knowing the label he’d been given, before ever meeting Richie, I was also warned that he had been problematic throughout the summer, often striking out against people at the Sportscamp we were helping to facilitate and seldom engaging in the given activity, instead choosing to distract people and cause trouble.

Richie showed up to our first day of Sportscamp late. He immediately grabbed another kid, Joshua, and a bunch of equipment and started running around with it, swinging at people with the hockey stick and just generally wreaking havoc. Yet, that day, while on a water break, Richie connected with one of my high school seniors. Richie sat with her for 45 minutes discussing cars, something this poor girl knew nothing about.

Tuesday, Richie strolled in, late again. This time, his sidekick, Joshua, was absent so he grabbed a replacement sidekick and together, they ran screaming into the hallway. After several of my students tried valiantly to get them to join us for a rousing game of street hockey, I followed the horrific sounds coming from the hallway piano and discovered both kids banging its keys with all their might.

Choosing to see this as an interest in music, I asked if they wanted to learn a song. Much to my surprise, both agreed and so I spent the next half hour teaching them the duet, “Heart and Soul”. When Richie successfully played his part of the song to me, I praised him and was utterly amazed at the look of pride that flashed across his face.

As we continued to play the piano, I asked Richie where Joshua was. He responded, “At basketball practice.”

Sensing there was more to this story, I asked Richie why he also wasn’t at basketball practice. He replied, “I love basketball more than any other sport. But I’m the bad kid and they won’t let me in no more.”

With that, my heart broke.

Later, Richie and I built some warships out of Legos and as we did, I asked him about his family. I learned he lived with his dad, who seldom payed attention to him and his sister, who was about to move into her own apartment. When I asked where his mom was, he said, “I don’t know. She just took off one day. We’ve never seen her since.”

With that, what was left of my heart broke.

And suddenly, Richie’s behavior began to make sense to me.

Left without a mama, Richie had been repeatedly labeled “white trash” and the “bad kid”. With no one to contradict this negative labeling, Richie chose instead to believe those labels, which began to define him. My guess is that slowly but surely, he altered his behavior until it matched that of a “bad kid”. Richie became the person the adults in his life told him he was.

Unfortunately, such is the case with today’s youth: They become who we say they are. That’s why it’s so important for youth to have adults walk alongside them, encouraging, affirming, and positively labeling them, just as Christ did with his apostles.

Take Peter.

Peter’s the apostle that I’d argue was perhaps the biggest dimwit of them all. He was arrogant, pushy, stubborn, and way too talkative. Long before he did anything to deserve recognition or fame, Jesus positively labeled Peter the “rock,” saying that it would be on this rock that he’d build his church (Matthew 16:18). At the time he said this, Jesus had seen little evidence to support calling Peter the rock. Yet, Jesus saw his potential and spoke that into him until Peter finally believed it, truly becoming the rock of the early church.

Just as Jesus did with Peter, as a youth worker, one of my primary functions is to speak potential into the lives of my kids; To label all kids positively, in a way that focuses on their potential rather than simply on their past behavior.

After all, if youth become who we say they are, then I want to make sure that I’m telling them they are someone created in God’s image and LOVED by God.

I only wish someone would have told Richie that. How different his life might be if that were the case.

I spent last week helping with Vacation Bible School. Like many churches across the country, ours uses Group’s “easy” VBS. Through it, I ventured on a “High Seas Expedition” with some 90 kids from our community, leading them during the Bible Voyage time.

This year, during Bible Voyage, we told a somewhat random collection of stories from the book of Acts: The story of Peter being imprisoned and then released from jail; The story of Paul being shipwrecked; The story of Paul on Malta; The healing of a beggar by Peter and John; And the story of the early church.

While there are actually many things that I appreciate about Group’s VBS including the ideas that its curriculum has for creatively, yet simply bringing the stories to life, one thing that I do not appreciate about Group is the way it reduces each of these complex and powerful stories into one simple, catch phrase like “God’s Word is comforting” or “God’s Word is life changing”. Such a reduction is actually a disservice to our kids because it takes away from the innate power of stories which naturally have the ability to captivate young and old alike. What’s more, such reductions carry with them an inherent danger: That in trying to draw out life applications we reach too far, drawing conclusions and principles not actually present in the text.

For example: I find it difficult to imagine that when Luke recorded the story of Paul’s shipwreck, he did so hoping to teach people that God’s Word is comforting. And I can say with some confidence that when Luke told the story of Peter and John healing a beggar outside the temple, that he was, in no way, trying to teach us that we are all crippled by sin (a conclusion that Group’s curriculum did, in fact, reach) or even that God’s Word is life changing. What does “God’s Word is life changing” even mean to a five or six year old who has barely developed the ability to think concretely, yet alone to think abstractly?

Despite this, in the age of the “Life Application Bible,” I think that too many of those of us who work in the church fall prey to the myth that without formulas, catchy sayings, or three easy steps, our teaching is useless. Yet all this myth really reflects is that we’ve forgotten the power of a good story.

Like nothing else, stories have the power to captivate us, challenge us, convict us, and move us. This is something that even my five year olds intuitively grasped during VBS, as they sat in our makeshift boat, riveted to the story of Paul’s shipwreck and survival. It’s something that I think Luke also grasped as he recorded story after story in both his Gospel and in Acts.

Though I cannot say for certain, I also suspect that Luke told these stories for the same reason we should: To pass on the history of our people to the next generation. As one of my favorite authors, Kenda Creasy Dean asserts, we tell stories of faith because “it’s our family’s story. It’s who we are. The church tells this story to young people for the same reason we tell stories of grandparents around the dinner table: So our children will know whose blood courses through their veins, so they’ll know who they are, why we live as we do, and why it matters.”

Because while stories reflect our identity, they also do something more: They shape our identity. The more we hear stories, the more those stories come to life in our lives. We start to, in some mysterious way, live them out. As we do, we experience them. But more importantly, as we do, we also experience God, who is, himself, a master storyteller and the creator of our story.

I’m an avid reader and now that school is out for the summer, I’ve been enjoying lots of fiction, some ministry books, non-fiction Christian books, and some magazines. In reading, I stumbled upon an article that said “72 percent of those in ministry read their Bibles only for prep work,” a statistic which the author called “troubling”.

For years, I’ve heard pastors, church workers, and even lay people implore me to begin every day with a Quiet Time in God’s Word, and to make this time separate from any time I spend in God’s Word preparing to give a talk or lead a Bible study. But I’ve never understood this. Why can’t my prep time also be my quiet time with God?

Some of my richest encounters with God have actually come as a result of preparing for something that I’m about to teach. Take Tuesday, when I spent about four hours preparing to lead a Bible study on the Woman at the Well. (John 4). Because I was preparing to “teach” this story, I explored it much more thoroughly than I would have had I simply been reading the story during a quiet time. I sat at my desk, prayerfully studying the Word using the Bible and two of my favorite commentaries. As I studied both God’s Word and how people far wiser than I had interpreted it, I found myself captivated by this story yet again; Drawn to the fact that Christ chooses to reveal his identity to this unlikely, scandalous Samaritan woman, thereby vividly demonstrating that his message, love, and grace are for ALL people.

Without a doubt, during my nearly nine years in ministry, it’s been during the times when I’ve been preparing to teach God’s Word to others that God has most challenged and deepened my own faith. God’s often used that preparation time as a catalyst for further spiritual growth, necessary to mold me into the woman He’s created me to be.

Because of this experience, I struggle with the idea that to be a good Christian or youth worker, I must also take an additional, separate 30 minutes in the morning to have a “quiet time” with God. To me, all this does is place God in a box, effectively limiting those times we expect him to work by saying, “OK God, THIS and only THIS is the time in which you can work in my own life.”

But isn’t God actually much bigger than that? Isn’t the God we worship big enough to minister to us throughout our day – anytime we open his Word, regardless of the reason why? Isn’t the God we worship big enough to speak to us not just through his Word, but also through nature, art, music, people (including the teens we serve), and other writers?

I believe He is.

Moreover, I believe that worship and that our study of God’s Word is, in actuality, meant to be much more far reaching than we tend to imagine; That it’s meant to be much less about compartmentalizing our lives into specific time slots – worship here, read God’s Word here, serve here, and live the rest of our lives over here – and much more about a holistic perspective.

As Romans 12:1-2 says, “So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.”

If God is, in fact, big enough to work in a variety of ways and if worship is really meant to be an outpouring of the rest of our lives, then perhaps we need to spend less time bemoaning the fact that 72% of those in ministry read their Bibles only for prep work and instead CELEBRATE how God is at work in and through those church workers – both as we prepare and as we teach and lead, doing all we can to connect to Christ ourselves and then teaching others to do the same.

We’re living in the era of the black box church. These churches are typically found in vacant storefronts or empty warehouses. The idea behind them is that it’s wiser for today’s churches to invest money into a versatile space than it is for them to build traditional church sanctuaries. To attract non-Christians, “black boxes” typically remain free of traditional church symbols and artwork like crosses and stain glass windows. Instead, money is spent on screens, projectors, and sound equipment that can be used for worship, youth group, children’s carnivals, meetings, and any other activity that might utilize that space.

While my church is much more traditional and therefore includes a sanctuary, the era of the black box church has still influenced my thinking regarding the youth room in which my ministry meets. Because of this influence, throughout my career, I’ve paid little attention to my youth room and have put very little money into altering it, believing that a simple, versatile space will best resonate with my students and meet the needs of our ministry.

Yet, what’s happened instead is that my youth room has become the dumping ground for old couches, chairs, bookshelves, pictures, cleaning supplies, paint, Foosball tables, and the like, resulting in an inhospitable and unwelcoming environment for my students.

Because of this, it’s been my goal for the last year to begin making over the Youth Room, something that we actually began doing last week. I held two “Youth Room Makeover” days for my students – work days when my students could stop by anytime during an 8 hour window and stay for as long as they were able. Much to my surprise – my students came!

We began our makeover simply by cleaning. We sorted, sifted, and unearthed things that I swear had not seen the light of day for at least twenty years. We filled our church’s large dumpster and straightened the room, making it feel less cluttered and much more welcoming. We then rearranged the room to create four distinct areas that we can now utilize in a variety of ways.

Given that it was 90 plus degrees on the days we were working, the result was a lot of sweat but, more importantly, a lot of excitement and energy over our space. Surprisingly, those two minor things – Cleaning and rearranging the furniture – also resulted in a heightened sense of ownership from my students, who have already begun dreaming ways we can utilize the various areas of our room. Such excitement and ownership has really convinced me something that organizations like Habitat for Humanity have known for years: Sweat equity works.

Aside from cleaning and rearranging our youth room, we were limited by our budget in terms of what else we could do to transform our space. For this reason, at the end of our two work days, we were left with the hodgepodge of mismatched couches that I’m convinced are the cornerstone of most youth rooms around the country. But we had made three easy, low-cost, yet significant changes to the room:

1. We repainted one small wall using black chalkboard paint to give students a place to doodle and share prayer requests and me a tool to use while teaching.

2. We took our oldest, dumpiest table and transformed it into a photo table. This utilized some of the hundreds of old pictures that were strewn about the room. Moreover, it was such fun to watch our students work together on this project. As they cut and mod-podged the photos to the table, they shared memories and stories from the events at which they were taken. This table has now become the centerpiece of our new “discussion area” because students are convinced that it will be a great way to spark conversations with new people.

3. Lastly, contrary to everything I thought I knew from the era of the black box church, I chose to embrace art in my youth room. I went to Michael’s and bought an assortment of stretched canvases and acryllic paints and then invited youth to express themselves. I watched, slightly bewildered, as student after student picked up a canvas and painted. Some painted abstracts. Some painted quotes that were particularly meaningful to them. Others just painted random objects (For example: The centerpiece of one canvas is a carrot.) But all painted. Through this process, my students taught me that even though we live in a digital world, art does not have to be digital to attract students or to be meaningful to them. In fact, for them, it just may be that more traditional forms of art – like painting a stretched canvas – are even more meaningful precisely because they’re becoming something of a lost art.

By the time our two work days were complete, we had 8 completed canvases to decorate our youth room with an added bonus being that because they’re canvases, they can be taken down and replaced with a minimal expenditure as students graduate or as the needs of our room change.

Because of our experiment with these canvases, I’m pretty sure that this year, in response to student’s requests, we’ll also be incorporating art nights into our youth ministry’s schedule, something that reflects what both I and my students learned by doing this youth room makeover: Art has the potential to express ourselves and our faith in a way that few other things can. It can be used to transform any space – even a black box – into a worshipful area that points to a Creator God who called us to follow suit and create.

My husband, Doug, and I took advantage of the long Memorial Day Weekend to go hiking in Yosemite National Park in California. Of the four trails we hiked, our favorite was Sentinel Dome.

To get to Sentinel Dome, you have to travel along Glacier Point Road, a road which opened for the first time of the season the Saturday we were there. As soon as we turned onto Glacier Point Road, we saw why the road had been so slow in opening: Snow that even at the end of May could still be measured in feet.

Our guidebook described Sentinel Dome as “your chance to climb one of Yosemite’s famous domes with minimal expenditure of time and effort” to see a view that is’ “everything you’d expect, a 360 degree sweep of the entire park.” After two longer, steep hikes the previous days, this sounded appealing to us.

Unfortunately, as we drove out to Glacier Point, we noticed that like the rest of the surrounding area, the trailhead to Sentinel Dome was covered in snow, leaving us unsure whether or not to pursue the hike.

At Glacier Point, we approached a Park Ranger who told us not to attempt the hike due to the deep, unstable snow. He stood there with his radio, ready to rescue the “first fool” who injured themselves on the hike to Sentinel Dome.

Hearing that was enough to convince me not to do the hike.

Hearing that only made Doug want to do it more.

So we went to the Sentinel Dome trailhead and scoped it out, observing a steady stream of “fools” returning from the hike. After talking to a few such fools who assured us the trail was in good condition, we grabbed our boots, hats, jackets, gloves, trekking poles and, at the last minute, rain gear and set out on the 1.1 mile, 650 foot gain hike to Sentinel Dome.

Normally, such a hike would take about a half hour. But on this day, the hike was a bit more grueling.

Because the trail was completely snow-covered, we were dependent on those who had gone before us, hoping their tracks would lead us the right direction. Deep, but melting snow, resulted in slippery conditions and slow, cautious travel.

On this day, the hike that required “minimal expenditure of time and effort” actually required a great deal of both, taking us nearly two hours to reach the base of the dome, where even our guidebook warned “The only way to go is up the steep, open slope,” which was supposedly slippery even when dry.

Knowing what the guidebook said about the final ascent on a good day, I was concerned about what climbing this steep, open slope would be like if it was snow-covered. Shortly after beginning the climb, I found out. Immediately, I wanted to stop and return to the safety of the base. But we continued along, slowly picking our way to the top. Doug went first, using his toes to “carve” steps into the snow, with me following in his footsteps, unable to look anywhere but straight ahead for fear of falling off the side of the dome to no where. As we continued our ascent, I kept thinking, “How on earth am I going to get down?”

But oh my word. Once at the top, the view was every bit as good as we had anticipated. Looking one direction, we saw the iconic Half Dome next to Vernal and Nevada Falls. In another direction was the legendary climber’s peak, El Capitain. And in another direction was beautiful Yosemite Falls.

The view was breathtaking – in every direction.

We stood there for what felt like hours but was really only about 45 minutes, savoring the beauty.

All too quickly, we realized that we’d better begin making our descent which, given my natural klutziness, I wanted NO part of.

So instead, we got creative and donned our rain gear, carefully inching our way down the steepest part of the dome before sitting down in the snow, backpacks and all, and giving ourselves a push, sledding down the remainder of the dome to its base.

It was an exhilarating 15 seconds; A moment of pure fun and bliss filled with laughter, squeals, and joy.

It was a moment that gave us enough energy, excitement, and adrenaline to carefully plod back to our car. It was the moment that made the rest of the hike worthwhile.

Unquestionably, it was the highlight of the day and perhaps even the highlight of our trip.

And in the week and a half since the trip, it’s also the moment that I most think about.

Strangely, the more I’ve thought about this hike, the more parallels I’ve seen between it and youth ministry.

Too often, people go into youth ministry because of the experiences they had in their own youth ministry. While it’s encouraging that people are so moved by their youth ministries that they desire to give others a similar experience, this can sometimes be misguiding. Those who enter youth ministry for this reason often do so thinking it’s a career that will constantly be “everything they’d expect, with minimal expenditure of time and effort.” For these individuals, the time spent traversing the snow to get to the base of the summit is grueling, disheartening, and overwhelming, resulting in frequent falls and in some cases, the desire to give up the journey all together.

Others of us spend our time chasing moments. While short, these are the moments that are fun and exhilarating; The ones that form lasting memories for us and our students. These moments give us the energy and endurance to continue plodding along in a sometimes thankless profession. In many ways, they make the youth ministry hike worthwhile.

While there’s nothing inherently wrong with these moments, there is something dangerous about constantly chasing them. When we, as youth workers, chase moments, we teach our students to do the same, creating a faith that’s dependent on “moments” but void of any connection to real life. While that faith may be strong for a season, for most, it will be difficult to maintain; Making it difficult to discover and pursue God in the ordinary, which is, in reality, the place where we most often dwell.

That’s why I’d argue that we, as youth workers, actually need to spend more time gazing from the summit.

Make no mistake, the summit is NOT just another mountaintop experience.

Instead, the summit is the place we go for clarity. Like Sentinel Dome, it’s the place that offers the 360 degree view that enables us to see all else. It’s the place where vision comes into focus; Where we can see where we’ve been and where we’re going. It’s the place where we gain perspective – about our lives, our ministries, and our students. It’s the place where we reconnect with ourselves, our calling, and God. Once we’ve done that, it’s also the place from which we can see God moving – not just in the “moments” but also in the ordinary.

To get to the summit we need:

Patience: The journey will be long and sometimes hard. Companionship: Reaching the summit alone can be costly and dangerous. It’s much easier to reach the summit when you can follow in someone else’s footsteps, or at least alongside them. Courage: People will ALWAYS expect you to do “more” ministry – more programming, more time training leaders, more time meeting with parents, more time hanging with students. Seldom with they tell you to just spend time gazing from the summit. Courageous youth workers are not necessarily the ones doing more; They’re the ones traveling over the snow, slowly but surely making their way to the summit so that they can dream. Time: Copying other’s youth ministries philosophies and strategies is quick and easy. Daring to dream about your own is slow and hard. It takes time to get somewhere worth going and it takes time to dream about a path worth traveling in the future.

But oh my word.

When you reach the summit, it’s so worthwhile. It’s there that the view will be “everything you’d expect” and more!

Recent research from the National Survey of Youth and Religion (NSYR) has revealed that connecting teens to their faith communities helps them to develop a lasting & consequential faith.

As I’m currently conducting a thorough assessment of my youth ministry, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about this. In light of this finding by the NSYR, I had hoped that my assessment would reveal that one of the strengths of our congregation was, indeed, this connection between people of different generations.

What I’ve found is that our congregation DOES care deeply about our youth ministry. In fact, if anyone threatened to “kill” our youth ministry, I have no doubt that our congregation would be up in arms.

Yet, the old adage is still true: “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Because our ministry impacts such a small percentage of the congregation and meets in an obscure, somewhat isolated location that few people ever see, for the most part, despite caring deeply about our youth ministry, our congregation is disconnected from it. People don’t understand what we do, let alone why we do it.

That’s something that’s incredibly discouraging.

Yet, last Sunday at our Youth Sunday service I saw something that gave me hope amidst this discouragement.

At my church, Youth Sunday is the Sunday when our youth literally take over the service. They choose the theme, fill the majority of roles during the service, and even preach. In fact, my church has a long & sordid history of allowing seniors to give Senior Sermons on Youth Sunday that range from a series of “shout outs” to more meaningful testimonies of their faith. More recently, we’ve also begun another Youth Sunday tradition: The Blessing of the Seniors.

Our congregation has always been incredibly gracious about Youth Sunday: Allowing for music, reflections, & mistakes that normally wouldn’t be tolerated quite so well. Yet, this year, there was a lot that legitimately went really well during this service – A lot that was moving; A lot that pointed to how greatly God is moving in & through our students & the congregation that they’re a part of.

But by far, the most moving part of the morning came during our 7:30 service, the smallest of our church’s three services & the one that has the least amount of generational diversity. Looking down from the balcony during this service, you’ll see a sea of gray hair and bald heads. The overwhelming majority of people who attend this service are old; Seniors citizens in their 70s.

With the exception of one family: Marcy’s.

Marcy is a high school senior who has grown up attending this service with her mom & grandma. Yet, because she lectors & anoints people during our healing services, Marcy doesn’t just attend this service; She’s actually a vital part of it.

Because of that, Marcy was one of two seniors to give their sermons at this service this. And though we don’t typically include the Blessing of the Seniors at this service, this year, Marcy opted to receive hers at this service, fitting since as our Pastor remarked, “These are Marcy’s people.”

When the time came for the Senior Blessing, Marcy & her parents came forward to respond to several questions, after which we sent Marcy into the aisle & asked the congregation to lay hands on her as we prayed over her, something that’s honestly a little uncomfortable for Lutherans.

Yet, at the 7:30 service, the congregation literally flooded into the aisle & surrounded Marcy, eager to lay hands on her & bless her in the same way that she’s blessed them by choosing to be part of this unlikely community.

As I watched the scene unfold before me, I was struck by the image of these old, wrinkled, arthritic hands extended toward Marcy in a sign of blessing. These were the hands of the Saints of our Congregation; Of people who give generously to our congregation & in so doing, support our youth ministry. For decades, these are the hands that have faithfully & compassionately served the people of our church & our community: Holding babies; Caring for the sick; Cooking meals & feeding the poor; Building houses for those who have lost theirs; Teaching Sunday School; Stocking our kitchen; Preparing communion; & Praying for our world, our church, & our church’s people. These hands have held others as they’ve walked together through life – sharing joys & burdens with one another. These hands represent the well-lived lives of faithful people.

As these hands extended toward Marcy they also represented something else to me: The power of a connection between young & old that even my thorough assessment failed to reveal. The withered, wrinkled hands that stretched over Marcy represented the power of this community.

A power that was clearly seen when our prayer for Marcy ended & I looked around & saw tears: In Marcy’s eyes; In her parents eyes; And in the eyes of the senior citizens who have watched Marcy grow up, & who have loved, guided, supported, & prayed for her & will continue to do so even after she leaves for college.

It’s to this community that Marcy will return next fall, when she’s home on college breaks.

I have no doubt that this community will be eager to embrace Marcy & to hear about her experiences in college.

And its that connection – far more than any talks I’ve given at youth group or any discussions that I’ve led – that will keep Marcy returning to our church & growing in her faith as she matures into an adult.

I’ll admit it. One of my weaknesses in life is reality TV. Most of it’s awful, brain-numbing material, yet, there’s something about it that I find highly entertaining. So I watch it, show after show, year after year. Such is the case with American Idol, which I devote some 2-3 hours to a week, though I’ll admit I’ve begun fast-forwarding through more and more of these shows, especially the results shows.

Such was my plan when I turned on American Idol last night, only to realize that it was “Idol Gives Back,” a telethon type show that raises money for a variety of domestic and international causes. In the past, I’ve really appreciated this show because of its ability to engage the masses in financially supporting worthy charities. As I watched the show last night (and somehow couldn’t tear myself away from it), I found myself becoming more and more disturbed by it.

Midway through the show, host Ryan Seacrest interviewed Bill and Melinda Gates, people who at least from afar, I genuinely respect for their philanthropic efforts. Yet, something Melinda said caught my attention, summing up my angst about the entire show and its approach to giving.

When Ryan asked, “After this program, for people who have watched, what’s the one thing that you want them to think about, to remember, to get up tomorrow and say, ‘Here’s what I got out of this’”? Melinda responded, “I hope people wake up tomorrow and say, ‘I as an American made a difference in the developing world and I feel great about that.’”

In a nutshell, that’s what bothered me about last night’s Idol Gives Back. It was far more about us than it was about those that the show was supposed to be helping. But charity isn’t supposed to be about us; It’s supposed to be about them. Throughout the show, we saw clip after clip of beautifully produced videos depicting (and I might add, objectifying) starving black babies and cute Appalachian children. The videos were designed to guilt us into giving so that in the morning, we could wake up and pat ourselves on the back, satisfied that we’d done our part in changing the world by contributing $10 to Idol Gives Back.

The problem, however, is that while that kind of giving can make a temporary difference in someone’s life, I doubt its long-term impact – on us or those it’s supposed to help. So many of last night’s solutions seemed to be band-aids capable of covering a wound, but incapable of addressing its roots. We saw clips of kids in Appalachia who because of America’s generosity had books, but not adequate shelter, food, or heat. We saw kids in Africa who because of our money, were given mosquito nets to protect them from malaria. Never mind what the video didn’t show: The contaminated water sources that so many in Africa drink from; And the roads incapable of transporting aid from one village to the next. We saw girls in Ethiopia being educated by our money while nothing was being done to fight the system that’s allowing them to be sold to sex traffickers in the first place. The list goes on and on.

It’s true that with giving, you’ve got to start somewhere. And it’s also true that the money raised yesterday will help some people. But ultimately, last night’s “Idol Gives Back” was about eliminating guilty consciences; Creating pity for “poor people”; And making us feel good about ourselves.

I lost track of how frequently I heard phrases with the word “change” in it last night. Stuff like “Change the world” and “Be the change.” And I want desperately for us – for our generation & for the youth that I work with – to be able to do that: To Change the World.

But we’re not going to change the world by sitting on our couches and texting $10 to “Idol Gives Back.”

Until we’re willing to go, get dirty, break a sweat, and come into contact with someone different enough to make us uncomfortable, we’re going to be putting band-aids on problems rather than affecting real and lasting change in our world. It’s only by coming into contact with people who’s stories deeply move us that we’ll be motivated enough to make lifestyle changes and to get involved in ways that have the power to affect systemic and lasting changes in the world. When that happens, when we’re committed and convicted enough to change how we live in order to change how someone else lives, then we might just be able to really change the world.

When I entered youth ministry, I naively thought that if I effectively ministered to the youth in my care than I would have done my job well. Yet, the longer I’ve been in youth ministry, the more convinced I’ve become that for better or worse, that simply isn’t the case.

More and more research (including that from the recent 2003-2005 National Study of Youth & Religion) points to the important role that parents play in the faith formation of teenagers. Lots of people that I know even make a compelling argument that parents are, in fact, the primary spiritual influence in a teen’s life.

This means that if I’m going to be effective in my ministry to teens, I must focus not just on reaching them, but also on reaching their parents. At the very least, this seems daunting, especially considering that I am not yet a parent.

Yesterday, amidst an event that otherwise embodied missed opportunities to me, I caught a glimmer of why this type of ministry to parents is so important.

At our church, one of the strengths of our faith formation is the fact that we recognize several spiritual milestones through a ministry called “Stepping Stones.” Each stepping stone includes an educational component involving the entire family, a blessing (again involving the entire family), and a gift.

Yesterday, we held the last of our Stepping Stones, the one for High School Graduates and their families. For the first part of our time together, I met with the high school students alone. Of the 8 students who attended, I knew four well. Two were very connected to our church, but only marginally connected to me and not at all connected to our youth ministry. The last two, I did not know at all despite the fact that their families are active in our church.

As I facilitated our conversations about this group’s high school experiences, familial relationships, & faith journeys, I was struck by a sense of loss; By a feeling of missed opportunity with regard to the four students I didn’t know well. My heart broke for these remarkable youth whom our youth ministry had failed to engage and I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why?”

Knowing how intelligent this particular group of students is, perhaps church activities simply couldn’t compete with academics, competitive sports teams, music, and the like. Perhaps my own personality or my approach to ministry failed to engage these students. Or perhaps this particular group is still suffering from the whiplash they’ve experienced as a result of having four different youth workers in as many years.

Whatever the case, this sense of a missed opportunity was acute.

But then I realized: These kids were still there; Still present at this Stepping Stone despite the fact that they were disengaged from our youth ministry. They came – not because I used my relational capital to get them there – but because their entire family was connected to our community of Faith in a powerful way.

Having realized that, the Holy Moment that ensued shouldn’t have surprised me. Yet, it still caught me off guard.

After meeting separately with the youth and parents, we combined them and gave them the space to talk, as a family unit, about their hopes and expectations for their relationship with one another in the coming year. We gave them a time to remember, together. And finally, we walked them through a process where they each wrote a blessing that expressed something about the other person they were grateful for; Asked for God’s protection on other person; And articulated a prayer about their future relationship as a family. Students wrote a blessing for their parents. Parents wrote one for their child. Then, each person laid hands on the other & spoke that blessing directly to them, aloud and in front of everyone else.

The moment that ensued can only be described as sacred; The presence of God, palpable.

As I listened to parents and children speak words that might otherwise never be spoken and saw the affection they had for each other even in the midst of their tears, I realized that the sacredness of that moment came not from something that I did; But from what God did – not just in that moment but in his grand design for families and for the passing on of faith from one generation to the next.

Deuteronomy 6:4-8: “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.”

When I began my career as a professional youth worker, I was 21 years old and newly married. Both I, and my first church, viewed my age as an asset that would allow me to better relate to the youth I was ministering to.

Such a belief is neither new or unusual in youth ministry. In fact, youthfulness is actually a criteria that many churches look for when they hire youth workers.

Yet, in retrospect, I wonder if the youthfulness of youth workers is actually more harmful than helpful to churches, youth ministries, and the families we seek to serve.

Don’t get me wrong: God can and does use young youth workers in powerful ways.

Despite my youthful inexperience, God gave me the privilege of baring some tremendous fruit during my first year of ministry. Yet, looking back on that year, I must confess that God worked – not because of me, but largely in spite of me. A fact which no longer surprises me.

When I began serving my first church, I was, myself, still an adolescent, something that brain researchers are only beginning to understand. In her book, “The Primal Teen,” Barbara Strauch reports that just as our culture has extended adolescence so that it now ends around the age of 25, a person’s brain is actually still developing well into their 20s. Some of the last areas of the brain to develop are those that control our ability to reason and to appropriately act on our emotions.

Given this, it’s no surprise that as a 21 year old youth worker, I made some VERY poor decisions; Had a difficult time establishing boundaries; Related to the youth in my ministry as more of their peer than as an empathetic, caring, and wiser adult mentor or coach; Picked fights in order to get my way, even if that way wasn’t the best way for the church as a whole; Made decisions based on short-term gains rather than long-term benefits; And had an extremely difficult time trying to articulate the very faith that I was trying to pass on to the teens in my ministry. All things that are incredibly natural for someone who’s 21 with a still developing brain.

Yet, just because they’re natural doesn’t make them good; At least not in the context of a youth ministry.

Don’t get me wrong, I think 21 year old’s can be incredibly gifted, perhaps even with gifts that are incredibly valuable in youth ministry. I also think that 21 year old’s should be given the opportunity to develop and use those gifts in youth ministries. I’m just no longer convinced that we should allow a 21 year old to be the lead youth worker when they are still adolescents themselves. Instead, I think older youth workers should be mentoring those 21 year old youth workers – Investing in them; Discipling them; Caring for them; Challenging them; And surrounding them with a rather large safety net that will catch them when they fall (Because at 21, they will still fall!) and allow them to bounce right back up, stronger than they were before.

Recent research from the National Study of Youth and Religion has suggested that when it comes to passing on a true and genuine Christian faith, our churches are largely failing our teens.

Maybe part of the reason we’re failing them is because we’re entrusting their care to those who are still adolescents themselves, which isn’t to say that we’d solve that problem simply by hiring older youth workers.

We wouldn’t.

But it might be a start.

Even though I’m no longer 21, I’m still imperfect and I do still regularly make mistakes in leading my ministry. But I’m also far wiser than I was at 21 and far more capable of passing down a legacy of lasting faith to teens than I was then.

That’s why even though I’m no longer young and cool; Even though I no longer listen to the same music or watch the same shows as those in my ministry do (& therefore must be more intentional about learning about youth culture); I can honestly say that if I were to return to my first church now as a youth worker, I’d be much more effective in my role than I was then, as a 21 year old kid myself.

Tomorrow, my youth ministry will hold it’s largest fundraiser of the year, a Silent Auction, designed to raise money for our summer mission trip to Booneville, Arkansas.

In theory, it sounds like a great event – an event with the potential to bring together people from our family of Faith and give them an opportunity to enjoy one another’s company while supporting a worthwhile cause. It’s events like this one that enable our ministry to keep the cost of our potentially life-changing summer mission trip low enough for all our families to afford, something that I believe is incredibly important.

Despite knowing how important it is to make trips affordable, I struggle with this particular fundraiser a lot.

Because of the nature of this event, it’s difficult for youth to “own” it. They simply don’t have the skill set required to ask businesses to donate their goods and services. Those few students who are courageous enough to solicit businesses are usually not taken seriously by them. As a result, it’s up to parents & myself to solicit donations. What we’ve found this year is that businesses are hurting financially. So much so that it’s become difficult for them to generously donate to the plethora of events like this one held in our community.

This means that the bulk of our donations come from our own congregation. Thankfully, we have a talented community of artists in our congregation, many of whom donate their artwork to the auction. But we also have a lot of people who want to give generously & so they go to various stores, pay full retail price for items, and put together beautiful baskets.

Baskets, which unfortunately, we have to devalue in order to get people to bid on them. In fact, we have to devalue ALL the items that we receive – even the original artwork that people spend countless hours creating. At most, we start the bidding on an item at half its worth, hoping to raise maybe three-quarters of its worth once the bidding is complete. Though its a necessary evil of this particular type of event, this constant process of devaluing things is a part of this auction that I truly loathe. When we do this, what message are we teaching the very youth who we’re working so hard to raise money for?

I also struggle with the fact that for a Silent Auction to be a success, rather than encourage the discipline of simplicity, we must instead encourage people to consume material goods. We depend on our church family to attend the auction, to bid generously, and to buy our stuff, something that taxes the very group that has also generously donated items to the Silent Auction and diligently given their weekly offering to the church. Last year, I actually watched as parents donated baskets to the Silent Auction & then attended the Silent Auction & purchased those very same baskets again. Does that not seem absurd to anyone else?

But above all, I hate the theological message that the Silent Auction sends. I hate the fact that at the Silent Auction, I actually practice bad theology in order to raise money.

Its been a tradition in our congregation for the Silent Auction items to be set up in the narthex on the Sunday morning of the auction so as to allow people who won’t be able to attend the auction to consume anyway; To bid high in order to “win” their chosen items. Last year, we filled our narthex and our small chapel with items. The result? Pandemonium and a zoo-like feel after each service when people jockeyed for position to bid on their chosen items.

This on the morning when our lectionary reading was Matthew 21:12-13:

“Then Jesus entered the temple & drove out all who were selling & buying in the temple, & he overturned the tables of the money changers & the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’ but you are making it a den of robbers.”

Oh the irony.

What would Jesus have thought of our tables & our merchandise set up on Sunday morning in His house of prayer? Would we have been driven out of His house of prayer by the one whom we seek to serve? By trying to raise money in order to make our mission trip affordable, have we really only taught students how to make Christ’s house a “den of robbers”?

These questions have only increased my struggle with this year’s Silent Auction.

Yet, because we have to raise money for our summer mission trip and because this Silent Auction is the “tradition” by which we do that, tomorrow, I will once again host this fundraiser and do all that I can do to make this event a success.

All the while I’ll be thinking, “There’s got to be a better way. There’s got to be a way to raise money while still practicing good theology.”

Once all the items are sold tomorrow, the money is counted, and the tables are torn down, I’ll start to search for that better way; And I’ll wonder – Did anyone notice the word left off of this year’s Silent Auction program?

Annual.

For several years now, I’ve used resources from Marv Penner and Megan Hutchinson to train my adult leaders on “Helping Hurting Kids.” This training is based on the premise that in the world of today’s teenagers, all kids are hurting.

I was reminded of this today when I received a Facebook message from one of my student leaders saying, “Jen, I don’t think I can come tonight. We have a family emergency & I have to go see my grandma, who’s in the hospital.”

After receiving this message, I immediately called this student and simply said, “Tell me about what’s going on.”

She took a deep breath and said, “It’s complicated.”

After several moments of silence, she then proceeded to tell me about how her grandma, who her family has only recently reconciled with following a several year estrangement, is now at death’s door. She’s been in the hospital for the last two weeks, battling lung cancer that’s metastasized throughout her body.

In that moment, my heart broke for this girl and her family: For the years they spent apart from one another; For a reconciliation that happened, but occurred too late for her grandma to recognize the incredible woman her granddaughter is becoming; And for my student’s mom who on top of dealing with her own grief, is now dealing with the guilt she feels over having kept her kids separated from her parents.

Life is, indeed, complicated.

So complicated, in fact, that there’s nothing I can do to fix this situation. There’s not even anything I can do to spare this student the pain that she’ll no doubt experience in the not to distant future.

All I can do is be present in her life and allow her to grieve, cry, and be angry, all the while reassuring her that those emotions are normal and that she WILL make it through this.

More importantly, I can also connect this girl and her family with Christ, not by spouting Christian cliches, but instead by reminding them that in Christ, we have a God who is present with us in the deepest and darkest hours of our lives, so much so, that he even weeps with us.

My small group is currently reading the book, “Take This Bread” by Sara Miles. In this book, Miles describes her journey to begin a food pantry at her church in California. She also talks extensively about how she experiences communion in and through that food pantry.

Though I’ve found much of Miles’ words to be thought-provoking, this weekend, as I led the 30 Hour Famine for the students in my youth ministry, I found myself contemplating some of her ideas in a new light.

In Chapter 14, Sara talks about the excess in our food system and remarks that “So many thousands of cases of bread are about to be wasted. So many tons of fruit are waiting to spoil.” She goes on to talk about how she makes “bread out of injustice” by “feeding the hungry with the excess of an unfair system.”

Though noteworthy, this idea seems far removed from the life I lead. The problem of hunger is vast and overwhelming, so much so, that I cannot even begin to comprehend how a normal person can really make “bread out of injustice” on an on-going basis. Yet, last week, I met a woman doing just that.

Lois is a member of our church whose ministry is “food rescue”. She works behind the scenes and I suspect that few people are aware of what she does. I found out about her when another member of our congregation suggested I contact her to see if she could help us acquire food for our Refugee Family Fun Day, a service event that we did in connection with the Famine where we invited local refugees to our church for a free meal, raffle, and a variety of activities. This was our first time doing such an event and we had no idea how many people to expect, making it difficult to determine how much food we’d need. When I told Lois about it, she was eager to help us “rescue” the food that we’d need for our event.

As I began working with Lois, I glimpsed the scope of this woman’s ministry.

Several times a week, Lois makes a circuit of Glen Ellyn’s local grocery stores and restaurants, picking up expired food that can no longer be sold. She then takes that food to a variety of organizations that can use it including homeless shelters, adult day-cares, a ministry for teen moms, a Veteran’s home and others. She takes the excess from our “unfair system” and repurposes it so that those in need can benefit from it.

For us, she acquired chicken and ground beef, breads, and an assortment of produce. Anytime she found something that she thought we’d be able to use, she’d bring it to the church and leave it for me. Then on Saturday, she arrived with her truck, filled to the brim with pounds and pounds of food that would have otherwise been thrown out. She let us go through it & choose the items that we still needed, reminding me, “If you have extra, send it home with people. If you still have extra, call me & I’ll take it to someone else who can use it.”

Because of Lois, on Saturday, the excess of an unfair system fed some 40 refugees and gave them leftovers to sustain them for a few days longer.

It’s tempting after an event like our Refugee Family Fun Day to point to our youth, who organized, prepared, and led this event and recognize them as heroes for serving an often forgotten group who literally live in their backyard. In some respects that would even be accurate. After all, they fasted for 30 hours to raise money and awareness to fight world hunger, all the while serving locally. Yet, they did this during a one-time event for 30 hours.

In contrast, Lois has identified an on-going problem and rather than be overwhelmed by it, she’s chosen instead to say “It’s not OK for this food to go to waste. Not on my watch.” So day after day, week after week, she sacrifices her own time in order to rescue food from stores and restaurants and give it to those who can use it for good. In doing so, she constantly makes “bread out of injustice”. And for this, Lois is truly a hero.

I’ll admit it… Reluctantly.

When it comes to youth ministry, I’ve gotten a bit arrogant.

So last weekend, when I got to the “Extravaganza,” a conference put on by the ELCA’s Youth Ministry Network, and recognized very few names in the program, I thought that I would get little out of the conference. As a workshop presenter, I thought sure that I would give more than I got.

And while I sincerely hope that God used my workshop in people’s lives, as it turns out, I also got a lot out of the Extravaganza.

In particular, I was blown away by one of the main stage speakers, Father Gregory Boyle. Father Greg spoke about his ministry, “Homeboy Industries,” which gives jobs to LA gangbangers. As Father Greg spoke, he shared stories of the “soul finding its worth”. His message was both inspirational and challenging to me as I reflected on the weight and responsibility that God has given me in helping teens to find their worth; To discover their identity in Christ.

Besides Father Greg’s message, there were also several other things that I really valued about Extravaganza including

- It’s smallness and simplicity. Too often in youth ministry, we measure our success by how big we are. Yet, I appreciated the smallness of Extravaganza; Of the hospitality that you can have when you’re small; And of the opportunities for reflective and experiential worship.

- The heart that I continue to see within the ELCA to do social justice.

- Their willingness to engage in difficult conversations that have no easy answers. For example, Saturday afternoon, we had a lunch to discuss multiculturalism in the church in response to an initiative begun a couple years ago. Having served in a multi-ethnic church, I was so pleased to see someone intentionally engaging others in this conversation. Conversations like these are a great starting point. My hope and prayer is that they will not also be the end point.

- The number of “old” people who were present. Though I’ve long believed that you’re never too old to do youth ministry (in fact, it’s even something that I talked about at my workshop on Saturday morning), this is a value that I’ve too seldom seen in practice. At 29, I’m now one of the “older” people in the room at most of the conferences I attend. With eight years experience, I’m also usually considered a youth ministry veteran. Not so at this conference, where those in the 40+ crowd far outnumbered those in their 20s and where ministry newbies were recognized as being anyone with less than 10 years of experience. It was truly inspiring to rub shoulders with people who could measure their time in youth ministry in decades rather than in years.

Having oscillated between mainline denominations and evangelical ones, I can tell you that there are many things that I appreciate about both worlds. Yet, one of my criticisms of mainline denominations is their unwillingness to learn from and appreciate what the evangelical world brings to Christianity and specifically to youth ministry. Yet, ironically, because of my own arrogance, I nearly missed out on what the Lutheran world brings to Christianity & specifically to youth ministry.

The Lutherans aren’t perfect and they don’t have it all figured out, but then again, neither do I.

Having realized that, I’d say this weekend at Extravaganza didn’t so much recharge me as humble me.

And for that, I’m thankful.

Last week, I met with an adult leader who is stepping down from serving in my youth ministry.

I wholeheartedly believe that it should be difficult for an adult to start serving in youth ministry but easy for him to stop serving. For this reason, I didn’t fight this leader, who we’ll call Steve, when he said he wanted to stop serving. Yet, our conversation left me heartbroken.

In the last year, Steve has lost the three things that mattered most to him: His job; His girlfriend; And his independence as his unemployment forced him to return to his parent’s home. Because of all this, one day, not long ago, Steve woke up and realized that he no longer believed in God. After all, how could a good and loving God allow allow this to happen to him?

Even more heartbreaking than that confession was the realization that followed. As Steve described it, churches are like businesses and so in times of hardship, they must “trim the fat” and eliminate those parts that are no longer contributing to it. Unemployed, Steve no longer contributes financially to our church and so he thinks of himself as part of this excess fat that must be trimmed from the church. What’s more, he’s also concluded that if he no longer shares everyone else’s belief about God, he has no place in our church, let alone in our youth ministry as an adult leader who’s supposed to be a role model to high school students.

As Steve told me this, I thought of Jesus’ conversation with the Pharisees in Matthew 9:10-13:

“As he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors & sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”“

As I reflected on this in light of my conversation with Steve, I couldn’t help but wonder, when did the mission of the church change? When did we stop being a place for sinners and start being a place only for people who have their act together? How have we, the church, given people this impression about us?

Because I know that I can’t convince someone in Steve’s mindset that God is good, I didn’t even try to do so. Instead, I simply tried to communicate God’s grace to him by inviting him to continue to serve in our youth ministry on the condition that he be honest with the youth about his doubts and about his crisis of faith.

I invited Steve to continue serving because I believe that the God I worship and serve is sovereign; That he’s big enough to deal with any and all of our doubts and failings and that he is faithful to us during them. Because of this, I’m not afraid to allow my students to see this play out in the lives of our leaders. In fact, I believe that seeing an adult leader wrestle with his doubts and come out on the other side of them is something that may actually provide students with the very best role model possible. Hopefully, if they can see adults successfully navigate this process, then when they’re faced with their own doubts and crises of faith, those things won’t be so devastating to their faith because they’ll have confidence that they too will be able to endure; They’ll know that God will meet them in the midst of their doubts and fears and that their church will support them.

Though Steve didn’t take me up on my offer to continue serving in our youth ministry, my prayer is that in the days and weeks ahead, he will discover God’s faithfulness and goodness anew & that our church will play a role in demonstrating this eternal truth to him. I pray that we can reclaim the church as a place for broken, weak, and imperfect people and that in doing so, Steve will discover his value to it and the church’s value to him.

Dear Extroverted Classmate -

Last week, I sat in class with you for three days and really enjoyed getting to know you, though I fear you left without really knowing me.

On our second day of class, Professor Gerali talked about how women use seven times as many words per day as men. Afterward, you approached me and said, “That’s sure not true for you, huh?”

In that moment, I wanted to crawl under the table and hide because you suddenly made me the focus of everyone’s attention in a way that drew attention to my shyness. As an introvert, that attention is something I try desperately to avoid.

As an extrovert, I know it’s going to be hard for you to understand this, but please know that I actually like being introverted. Because I’m content as an introvert, I wish that you’d be content with that part of my personality. I wish you’d stop trying to fix me or trying to make me become more like you. Instead, I wish you’d recognize that being introverted is part of what makes me, me.

I also wish that you, my extroverted classmate, would understand that

- Even though I’m introverted, I still like people! You just tire me out and so sometimes, I need to withdraw in order to recharge.

- I’m much more comfortable being in 1:1 conversations than in a big group.

- I don’t have to be talking to feel included in a conversation. Instead, I can contentedly listen to others.

- Speaking all the time doesn’t make you better than me. Sometimes, I think you think I’m dumb because I’m not constantly talking. However, I’m a deep thinker who has creative, innovative ideas.

- Despite having creative, innovative ideas, I’m not going to fight you to talk. I’ll wait for you to take a breath & I’ll gladly jump in but if you start talking over me, I won’t stop you. I’ll just be quiet.

- I don’t need to be the center of everyone’s attention. Chances are, I’ll share what I feel I have to contribute and then I’ll ask YOU a question to engage you. Just once, I’d love it if you’d stop talking long enough to ask me a question too.

- Speaking of which, the best way to engage me in conversation is to ask me a question. Don’t comment on how little I talk. That just makes me self-conscious about being shy. Instead, ask me something. But only ask if you really want to listen to my response. If you ask me a question and then interrupt me to answer it yourself, it’ll only frustrate us both.

If you’d just remember a few of these things, my extroverted classmate, I really think we could be friends. When I look at you, I see someone who I appreciate it and value because I know that you connect with a different type of person than I do. I know that you bring something to a group of people that I don’t. I know that you’re a valuable part of the Body of Christ and that you contribute uniquely to it.

I only wish you’d learn that the same is true of me.