YMJen

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.

I’m a classic type A personality.

Most of the time this serves me quite well. Take, for example, the last two weeks when, in addition, to the holidays, travel, and working, I’ve also had an article and curriculum due, and I’ve started grad school. Being “Type A” allows me to write a “to-do” list and take pleasure in checking things off once I’ve completed them. In highly stressful times, being “Type A” enables me to accomplish all that I need to do.

The problem is that sometimes, in my quest to complete things with excellence, I forget about WHY I’m doing WHAT I’m doing. I forget that being in relationships with people is always more important than having the perfect program, finishing a newsletter or calendar, submitting an article on time, or even getting an A on a paper.

Relationships are what enable me to love kids. Hopefully, these relationships enable kids to experience the reality of Christ’s love in a tangible way and to draw closer to Him as a result. Despite deeply believing this, twice in the last two weeks, my type A personality has gotten the best of me and I almost forgot this.

My first rude awakening was last week, when one of my students landed in the hospital with a broken nose and several compression fractures after attempting to sled in the dark. The day I found out, I was knee-deep in end of the year finances, calendars, and curriculum writing and when I got the call, I almost ignored it. I almost said, “I don’t have time to see Jennifer today because I’ve got way too much else to do!”

Thankfully, I didn’t. I called Jennifer’s mom and listened as she tearfully told me about the accident and then I stopped at the hospital and spent time with Jennifer and her dad. The whole thing took maybe an hour and in truth, it was the best, most productive hour of my day. It was an hour that God used in that moment with Jennifer and her family & that I believe God will continue to use in the future.

Despite that, the same thing happened again this week. I was having a super stressful day – meetings, planning for our upcoming retreat, and writing a grad school paper. I had already had one two hour meeting with an adult leader and had scheduled a one-on-one with one of the girls on my Student Leadership Team. Because I was so eager to complete the other tasks on my “to-do” list, I nearly relegated her to the bottom of it and canceled on her.

Once again, thankfully, I didn’t. Instead, I spent an hour eating cheesy popcorn and drinking hot chocolate with her and listening as she shared her struggle to find God in the midst of repeated crises with her family. Once again, this conversation (which I nearly put off because it was less important than the things on my “to-do” list with a concrete deadline), ended up being the high point of my day; The part of my day when I was most keenly aware of God’s presence.

Sure, God is in the administrative details that I have to take care of on a weekly basis. He’s also in my writing and he’s certainly in this grad school class that I’m taking. But above all, God is in people. Despite how much I love the theoretical, almost academic parts of my job that involve writing, planning, and creating, the reality is that they do no good if they don’t translate into the practical – into how I live my faith with, in, and among those that God has placed in my path.

So today I renew my commitment to always value people more than programs and to stop relegating people to the bottom of my “to-do” list.

Early in my youth ministry career, someone told me, “There’s a Savior and you’re not it.”

To me, this simple yet profound statement served as a reminder that while important, my role in a kid’s life is limited and should not surpass that of their parents or their Savior.

More often than not, I do OK at remembering and living this out. But occassionally, I fail miserably at it.

When I fail, it’s usually because I’m struggling with ministry envy. Specifically, this envy typically occurs when one of the kids in my youth ministry, when one of MY kids, tells me something about another youth ministry they’ve attended.

Just this week, I received a Facebook message from one of the kids in my youth ministry who is currently in the midst of a period of rapid spiritual growth, telling me about another youth ministry that she attended last week. She ended the message by saying that this youth ministry was “very different than ours, but different in a good way” and that she thought we should try some of the things they’re doing in their ministry in ours.

In that moment, as I read that message, I forgot that “There’s a Savior & I’m not it.”

And so my ministry envy reared it’s ugly head. As it did, I began to question why this girl thought that this other youth ministry was worth modeling ours after; I questioned why this youth pastor seemed to have connected so well with my kid in one week, when I’ve spent the last year and a half investing in her; And I began to wonder if this girl’s rapid spiritual growth was because of this other youth pastor rather than because of me.

As I reflected on this, I realized that all of my feelings and insecurities pointed to the fact that sometimes, as much as I try to behave and believe otherwise, I really do want to be the Savior for my kids.

Unfortunately, that’s not healthy – for me, or for them.

And I know this. Very much. In fact, I even believe that as a whole, youth ministries need to be less isolationist; Less possessive of “our” kids; And more willing to partner with other churches in order to work together to do what’s best for our youth spiritually.

I even wrote an article about this a few years ago.

Yet, in truth, I have a hard time working with other churches to live this out. In truth, I have a hard time sharing my kids with others.

And this needs to change – for them and for me.

So today I end this blog with a renewed commitment to partner with other churches to do what’s in the best interest of my kids, even if it means sharing them; Even if it means accepting the fact that others may play a tremendously important role in their spiritual growth; And even if it means that “There’s a Savior and I’m not it.”

Throughout Scripture, God uses imperfect losers in incredible ways, something that I think He still does today.

In fact, considering that I am in youth ministry and that God has somehow managed to use me despite all my weaknesses and imperfections, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this truth is still true today.

Despite this, for some reason, I’ve struggled in the past to apply this same truth to my students.

Oh sure, I certainly allow for the fact that God can use my students during various service projects and mission trips but up until this year, I’ve been reluctant to believe that God can use my students to do the up front kind of teaching typically reserved for me, the youth pastor.

While I’ve dreamed for years about having a student led retreat, I’ve routinely used convenient excuses to put this endeavor off.

“My students aren’t ready to lead that kind of content”. “It would be too much work for me to have students lead a retreat session.” “I never want to set my students up for failure so I’ll wait until I’m sure they’ll succeed.” And my personal favorite, “My students don’t know enough about their faith yet to lead a retreat. They’re not spiritually mature enough to help others grow in their faith.”

While I still believe that some of these statements articulate legitimate concerns, this fall, one of the experts that I interviewed for an article I was writing challenged me to rethink this when he talked about how important it is for youth to formally teach other youth in various youth ministry settings. According to him, when we allow youth to do this, both the youth who’s leading the material as well as those who are listening learn more. Why? Because in preparing to teach something, a youth has to learn it for themselves and take ownership of it. In hearing the material, youth always listen more when it’s peer to peer rather than adult to youth.

Not long after hearing this expert, I scheduled a discussion at our youth ministry on world issues, something that many of our kids were eager to talk about. As I began to think through this particular discussion, I contacted Katie, a high school senior and a member of my leadership team, to ask her what sort of world issues she’d like to learn about.

Her response shocked me.

She mentioned several issues and then without my asking, calmly said, “You know, I could lead that one if you want.”

With the words of that pesky expert ricocheting around my brain, I bit back my initial panic, swallowed all my concerns, and restrained the part of me that is naturally a control freak and said, “Sure, that’d be sweet!”

Over the next month and a half, Katie worked to prepare to lead our discussion on world issues, regularly seeking me out for various pieces of advice and to ensure that what she was planning was OK.

The day before her scheduled discussion, we went through the night at length, in detail. As we did, I was amazed at the time and thought that Katie had put into preparing for the night. I was also blown away by her passion for the topic. In response, I gave her a few suggestions and a lot of encouragement.

Tuesday night, Katie led our discussion on world issues. She presented our group with information on child prostitution in Cambodia, the AIDS crisis in Haiti, and the slums of Kenya; linked these issues to Scripture passages about justice and compassion; and then facilitated a discussion about whether or not we, as Christians have a duty to respond and if so, what our youth ministry can do to make a difference regarding these issues.

I’ll admit: The night was rough. There were some technical difficulties; Some poorly phrased questions; A little too much talk and not enough discussion; And some awkward silences.

Yet despite those things, the night was far from a failure. In fact, I’d call it a grand success.

Katie’s peers hung on her every word, stayed focused and on subject during the discussion, and because the challenge to do something about these problems came from one of their own, they left the night with plans to act.

And Katie?

Katie left the night glowing, basking in the praise from both the adult leaders in the room and her friends; Feeling good about being able to challenge her peers to put their faith into action and the fact that they actually came up with two tangible things to do as a result; And having learned far more about these issues and their relationship to her faith from having taught the material than she ever would have had I taught her the material.

Though we still haven’t had a student led retreat, after Tuesday night, I think that such a thing is more within our grasp than I ever thought.

After all, if God can use me to teach youth, despite all my weaknesses and imperfections, then why can’t he use youth to teach each other?

As 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

For years, my husband & I have joked about how at the National Youth Workers Conventions that we attend he needs to either crash the “Youth Pastor’s Wives” seminar or start a “Youth Pastor’s Husbands” seminar.

While we joke about this, the reality is that being a youth pastor’s husband is part of Doug’s identity. Too often, I fear this role robs Doug of his true identity & instead, makes people see him simply as an extension of me & my role, almost as though he were one of my appendages.

We certainly found this to be true at the first church I worked at where the joke was “Oh – we got two for one with Jen & Doug.”

Despite thinking we knew better, this seemed to grow even worse at my second church. There, Doug was even part of my initial interview process (which should have set off some warning bells, but unfortunately did not). Before long, we realized that it was an unspoken, unwritten part of my job description that Doug be at everything I was at – youth events, worship services, church meetings, mission trips, & the like. Though people consistently affirmed his role as a leader in our youth ministry, the reality is that this became taxing on us and burdensome to Doug. Eventually, it caused resentment to build in both of us toward our church.

When the time came for me to move onto another church, Doug & I were very aware of this problem & wanted desperately to establish more healthy boundaries at our new church. Believing this needed to begin before we even started attending elsewhere, every time I got a question last summer during my job hunt regarding, “What will your husband’s role at church and in your ministry be?” I was careful to honestly say, “Doug loves God & most of the time he loves the church. He enjoys serving with me, but he is not who you’re hiring. I am. You’ll have to ask Doug what he’s going to do. It’s up to him.”

Though harsh, this was an important part of establishing a new boundary for our relationship with the church, a boundary that I think is much healthier for us as a couple, for the church itself, and for our perception of and relationship to the church.

Fortunately, we now attend a church that seems to respect these boundaries & value Doug & I separately – me for what I bring to my role as a staff member & Doug for how he supports me & for his role as an ordinary parishioner in the church.

Though Doug has continued to serve with me on Tuesday nights & Sunday mornings (for which I am thankful & blessed!), at our church now, it’s clear that I am the paid youth worker & Doug is one of many adult leaders that serve in our youth ministry. As part of this, this year, for the first time in our married life, Doug did not go on either of my summer trips with me. Instead, parents & leaders stepped forward to serve in this capacity, freeing Doug to reserve his two weeks of vacation time for our actual vacation to New Zealand and allowing him to enjoy two weeks of summer fun to relax, build planes, & fly them. During my time away, I think Doug went to church once, but not every Sunday. Miraculously, that was OK. At our new church, even though I am expected to be in church on a weekly basis, Doug is not. When he is, he is welcomed, greeted, and thanked – simple things that validate his role as a unique individual & part of our faith community.

At no point has this been more clear to me than it was last Sunday, when Doug spoke as part of our Advent emphasis on vocation. Prior to speaking, our Pastor called Doug directly & asked him if this was something he’d be interested in doing. He did not go through me or expect me to answer for Doug. Then when Doug actually spoke, he was introduced simply as “Doug Bradbury”, not as “Doug Bradbury, our youth director’s husband.”

This allowed Doug to speak about his vocation without fear of how it would affect my work. It also enabled people to see him for who he is – an incredibly gifted software craftsman who loves God & loves me enough to support me in this crazy thing called youth ministry.

It’s that identity that I fell in love with and that I want other people to see & love because Doug is worthy of love – not for who I am but for who he is.

Each time I’ve undergone a job search, one of the first compensation questions that I’ve asked is “How much vacation time do I get?”

For my husband & I, in these “pre-family” years, traveling has been a priority. We enjoy seeing & experiencing new things & learning from different people & cultures.

This year, my husband & I were ecstatic to be able to string two consecutive weeks together to vacation in New Zealand. Compared to most people we know who take, at most, a week-long vacation, we felt as though we were incredibly fortunate to be able to take this long of a vacation. Yet, upon arriving in New Zealand, we began meeting people from all over the world, from nations where the standard vacation allotment is 4-6 weeks. In fact, we met one woman, Barbara, from the Czech Republic, who was in New Zealand for one month & yet remarked, “One month is not enough time to travel, but this is all the time I have for my holiday.”

This got me thinking: What are we, in the States, missing because of our success-driven, fast-paced culture that seldom allows us to take extended “holidays”?

Our standard of living may be higher in the States than in other countries (though perhaps even that is starting to decline), but at what cost?

Many Americans work extremely long hours, 50 weeks a year, and seldom take time to enjoy the fruits of their labor. On those rare weeks when we do take vacations, we typically view them as an escape from the stress & responsibility of our normal lives; As a way of running away from whatever currently weighs on our hearts.

Yet, elsewhere around the world, vacations are called “holidays” and the emphasis seems to be not on what people are escaping, but rather on where they’re going; On what they’ll experience once they get there; On meeting new people; And on taking time to rest, play, and to celebrate life.

All this was on my mind yesterday as I returned to the office for the first time since returning from my New Zealand holiday. In preparation for a prayer night I’m planning for next week, I’m currently reading Mark Yaconelli’s “Downtime: Helping Teenagers Pray” and was struck by this passage:

“The basic expression of our life in God is found in what the early monastics referred to as “holy leisure.” Leisure, in the spiritual sense of the word, describes a “condition of the soul”. It is a receptivity & gratefulness to the mystery & wonder of being alive in the world. Holy leisure is a spiritual attitude that seeks to behold the mystery of God’s life & creation beneath the activities & the roles we perform.”

It seems to me that without realizing it, as evidenced by the way they travel, my new friends from elsewhere around the world grasp this concept of “holy leisure” far more than I. Yet their example gave me a brief taste of what this holy leisure might look like in my life – on holidays and at home. I hope that this taste is enough for this attitude to continue to permeate the way I live the rest of the year as well, with an air of celebration and the ability to take time to rest, play, & to be receptive to the mystery & wonder of being alive in the world.

Last week, I had lunch with a good friend of mine, Kitty.

Kitty is someone that has had a hugely important role in my life since about 1990, when she came to First UMC Park Ridge as our Associate Pastor. During her tenure at First UMC, part of Kitty’s job was to oversee and develop our youth ministry, something I’m pretty sure she initially wanted no part of. Yet, over time, we “trained” Kitty & she also trained us – loving us, discipling us, & challenging us.

In so many ways, Kitty taught me what it means to live a Christian life by loving people. Kitty taught me that pastors are human. Kitty also taught me what it truly means to be in relationship with someone else; She taught me how to be present in people’s lives. Kitty walked with my family during one of our darkest times – as both my uncle & my grandma were dying of cancer. In fact, she was at my house the night my Grandma passed away. Beyond that, Kitty has played a significant role in my life since. Overtime, Kitty has become an important mentor in my life who’s advised me on family situations, job difficulties, marriage, faith, and life. In a lot of ways, she’s been the most tangible example I’ve had of Christ in my life.

For as long as I can remember, Kitty has been someone who has quietly and reassuringly spoken belief into my life. Even as an arrogant, outspoken, opinionated junior high youth, Kitty saw leadership potential in me and did all she could to develop it. Today, she still speaks that belief into my life. In fact, even as we said good-bye last week, Kitty told me, “I’m so proud of you, Jen.”

It’s because of Kitty’s presence in my life that I’m in ministry today.

It’s also because of Kitty’s constant and on-going presence in my life (for nearly 20 years now!) that I believe so strongly in the importance of mentoring as a part of my ministry. Each year, I try to mentor 1-2 girls in my ministry who have a desire to grow in their faith and who I see leadership potential in. My goal in this relationship isn’t to train them to be Youth Pastors. It’s simply to walk through life with them, speaking belief into their lives when no one else does it, and helping them to wrestle with the tough things they face and to spot God in the midst of their daily life. Because I know how significant this kind of relationship has been in my own life, more than anything else I do in a week, I believe it’s these relationships that will have a lasting impact on people’s lives and on the Kingdom of God .

Thanks, Kitty – for investing in me as a Jr. High student and for continuing to do so today.

Adam McLane recently posted this interesting blog. In it, he essentially poses the question, would churches better reach their communities without church buildings?

Since reading this blog, I’ve been contemplating this idea.

For five years I worked at a church that rented space from two other churches instead of owning its own building. During this time, I truly began to believe that churches were better off without the added expense that comes from owning their own buildings. In fact, during this time, I vividly remember thinking “I hope that I’m never part of a church that’s doing a capital campaign again. What a waste!”

Fast forward to last fall when I changed jobs and found myself at a church immersed in a capital campaign. Mind you, this isn’t what it’s called in my context. Instead, it’s called the ministry growth campaign. The underlying idea behind this campaign is that if we can raise enough money to pay off what’s left of the church’s mortgage, we’ll then be able to use the freed up money to better finance the existing ministries of the church, a strategy that I actually believe has merit.

Why?

Not because of the additional money that will hopefully be available for our youth ministry but instead because in the last year, I’ve come to believe that owning a church building can actually be a resource that, when well-used, allows a church to better reach its community.

For example, my church building is in an excellent location, just off the expressway and a major thoroughfare in our suburb. It’s also located directly across the street from a large refugee community. Our church’s location is recognizable and well-known, especially because our building is always in use.

Throughout the week, our church doesn’t just provide offices for our staff and meeting places for our church’s ministry. Instead, our building houses a preschool and an adult daycare center. It also provides offices for DuPage United, a community advocacy group. Whenever there is an election, it serves as a polling place for the community. Several times a year, we open our doors for flu clinics and blood drives. In the evenings, besides our youth ministry and other church ministries, you can also find community concerts, regular meetings of Teen Parent Connection – a group that ministers to teenage parents, One Stitch at a Time – a group that teaches refugees how to sew, and weekly ESL and computer classes for the nearby refugee community.

Rarely is our church building empty. Instead, it’s an active place that provides a safe haven for both Christians and non-Christians. It provides our community with a resource and in so doing, it demonstrates our church’s value of Christian hospitality.

In his book, “Jesus Wants to Save Christians,” Rob Bell poses the question, “If our church was taken away – from our city, our neighborhood, our region – who would protest?”

I truly believe our community would. Would yours?

Two weeks ago, our church celebrated Quilt Sunday, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite Sundays of the year.

On Quilt Sunday, every pew is draped with several quilts – each handmade as a labor of love by six little old ladies in our congregation. This year, some 240 quilts filled our sanctuary.

These little old ladies meet weekly in our church’s sewing room, just a few doors down from my office. Week after week, I pass them without thinking much of it. I never think about the fact that these women are so old that I would think standing over a quilting table or sitting hunched over a sewing machine would be uncomfortable. I never think about the thickness of their glasses or the arthritis threatening to cripple their hands.

But week after week, I see these little old ladies faithfully sewing their quilts. Together, they use their gifted hands to make a quilt every day and a half.

The quilts they’re making aren’t like the ones that Doug and I own. We have one quilt that Doug’s Grandma started making for him and several of her friends finished after her death. We have another made my Great Grandma Johnson. We have a third that’s a t-shirt quilt made by my aunt. Each are treasured family heirlooms that are hung or stored away for safe keeping.

Not so with the ones the little old ladies are making at my church.

Their precious works of art won’t be handed down as family heirlooms to their grandkids. Instead, they’ll be sent around the world by Lutheran World Relief and given to those who are hungry, cold, and without shelter.

It’s honestly hard for me to fathom how these little old ladies can invest so much time making something that will likely never even see a bed, but that instead will be used to cover people sleeping in the dirt; That will be used to protect against the rain; That will likely never be washed.

While I willingly give my tattered rags away, these women give something homemade and beautiful to people who are the least among us.

To me, this is incomprehensible. It’s stunning. It’s grace that reeks of Jesus.

The Greatest Generation is a term coined by journalist Tom Brokaw to describe the generation of Americans who grew up during the deprivation of the Great Depression, and then went on to fight in World War II, as well as those whose productivity within the war’s home front made a decisive material contribution to the war effort.

I am fortunate that this is the generation my grandparents were a part of.

In particular, my Grandpa Johnson was a WWII Veteran. Though I seldom heard him talk about his war experiences, I know that they deeply impacted him. I remember one visit with him, shortly after the movie, Schindler’s List, came out. My mom asked him if he was planning on seeing the movie. My Grandpa responded, “Why would I see the movie? I saw it in real life and have no desire to see it again.”

My Great Uncle Bill is also a WWII Veteran. For him, being a veteran is part of his identity; Something that he takes pride in and finds honor in (as he should.) Because of Uncle Bill, I grew up hearing stories from WWII and now appreciate the sacrifices of his generation.

Unfortunately, few of today’s youth have had similar experiences because for the most part, their grandparents are Baby Boomers, a generation removed from the Greatest Generation. Few personally know people from the Greatest Generation and even fewer have actually heard war stories told by this generation.

Following a profound experience with some of my youth at the World War II Museum in New Orleans this summer as part of the ELCA’s Youth Gathering, this fall, I knew that I wanted to talk more about the idea of Just War with my youth and connect them with a generation that understands the cost of war.

To do that, last week, I invited a member of our church, Betty, to come speak to our youth. Betty is a military veteran who served our country as a navy nurse from 1943 – 1946. As she shared her experiences, I was amazed at the respect that our youth gave her, and at the way they sat riveted, listening intently to this 89 year old’s stories.

At one point, one of our adult leaders asked Betty, “Was the war worth the cost?”

Betty then proceeded to talk about the personal cost of war, telling our youth about a young boy who arrived in her ward, injured from the Pacific. She said that his eye was dangling out of its socket, in his hand, and that despite their best efforts, it could not be saved. That’s the cost of war. To a generation that has grown up during a time of war and yet has had to bare little of that cost, this was a profound statement.

Betty also talked about how her generation willingly sacrificed for their country but questioned whether or not if a draft began today, our youth would still respond with a valor similar to that of her generation.

Betty’s comments led to a fascinating discussion amongst our youth about just war. Using the just war principles established by St. Augustine in the 400s, we wrestled with whether or not the wars we are currently fighting are just; with how church’s should respond to unjust wars; and with how we, individually and collectively, can support and honor the troops who sacrifice so much for us. We concluded our discussion by wrestling with what it means to be a carrier of the Gospel of the Peace (Ephesians 6:15) and peacemakers (Matthew 5:9) during a time of war.

The discussion was rich, challenging, and thought-provoking – largely because of Betty’s presence and her willingness to share her story and thoughts.

I pray that in the time we are still blessed to have people from Betty’s generation with us that we will take the time to listen to their stories, to learn from them, and to follow in their footsteps and be willing to sacrifice for others and for the pursuit of peace.

I’ve often wondered why, if Jesus told his disciples in Mark 10:14 to “Let the little children come to me, do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs,” that so many churches today don’t invite little children to worship with their parents in the main, adult worship service.

I feel fortunate that the church I grew up in was not one of those churches and that week after week, I had the privilege of worshiping with my parents. Though I vividly remember reading books during the sermons, I also remember being in awe of the sanctuary and its beauty: the giant cross behind the beautiful wooden alter and the stained glass windows that surrounded the entire room, each telling a different Bible story. I also remember singing the hymns. I didn’t always understand their meaning, but I learned to love them anyway. On special occasions I also remember having my Grandma and Aunt join our family in worship and loving the fact that we all got to be in that place – a place that was already incredibly special to me – together.

As I grew older and began understanding more, because the value of worship was already ingrained in me, I quickly enjoyed being a part of the service by serving as an acolyte, lector, and occasionally being asked to play a piano piece as a special musical offering.

Because the Methodists have an open communion table, I took communion from a very early age. At first, I didn’t understand the significance of this act, but I still remember feeling like it was a big deal for me to be able to take part in it. Somehow, I intrinsically understood that the act itself was important and holy. Perhaps it’s because of the way I was welcomed at the table from such a young age that when I then got to serve communion to the guests at my wedding, it had such a deep significance to me.

Because I recognize the role that worshiping as a child with my parents had in my spiritual formation, it excites me to be part of a church that also honors and invites children to worship.

In fact, each of the last two weeks we’ve had special “Faith Stepping Stones” to help families and the church reaffirm the commitments they made at their child’s baptism. The first week, our church gave story Bibles to the three and four-year-olds. Last week, five-year-olds participated in the “Welcome to Worship” stepping stone and received a copy of “Boots the Church Camp” and a special invitation to tour & learn about the sanctuary.

In both cases, after the Bibles and books were handed out and the families prayed for, chaos ensued as lots of kids ran back to their seats, their parents frantically in pursuit. Even after parents wrangled their children back into their seats, their excited voices just could not be contained.

It was beautiful.

And such a reminder that Christ also told his disciples, “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

May we, like these three, four, and five year olds never lose this uncontainable excitement about Jesus and our faith.

If you were to take a poll of youth workers in the United States and ask them, “Who is the most influential youth worker in America today?” I think the overwhelming response would be Doug Fields, the Pastor to Students at Saddleback in California and author of the book Purpose Driven Youth Ministry.

Like many of my colleagues in youth ministry, I was surprised at Doug’s resignation from Saddleback this week and in particular at one comment from Pastor Rick Warren regarding Doug’s resignation: “When the beautiful Refinery was finished, I knew that Doug felt this was the capstone of the most successful youth ministry in America.”

Though I have no doubt that Pastor Warren meant this as a compliment to a friend and a colleague, to me it seemed to short-change the far reaching impact that Doug has had in the youth ministry world – An impact that I know well because of the role Doug has played in my own life.

As a rookie youth pastor, one of my youth ministry mentors, Tony Jones, gave me a copy of “Purpose Driven Youth Ministry” and said it was the first book that I needed to read. The book encouraged me, challenged me, and helped me structure my first youth ministry. Doug’s resources through his company, Simply Youth Ministry, and his constant mantra to “Take my name off and put your name on” helped me to train my leaders and ensure that on weeks when I didn’t have time to create my own resources, I would still have a quality lesson to use with my teens.

Doug’s 2nd book, “Your First Two Years in Ministry” and his seminar of the same name is a major reason why I survived my first two years in ministry and am now entering my eighth year in ministry. I read it as I was transitioning from my first call into my second, a particularly dark time in my faith journey.

Beyond that, hearing Doug speak at the Purpose Driven Youth Ministry Conference & countless National Youth Workers Conventions never failed to simultaneously equip, encourage, and challenge me. In particular, his constant reminders that no one ever wins in the comparison game and that in ministry, people matter more than programs have become ingrained in my own youth ministry philosophy.

This year, his book “Help! I’m a Student Leader!” has enabled me to challenge and equip my student leaders for ministry.

Though I’ve never so much as had a one on one conversation with Doug, through his books and seminars, he has served as a very influential mentor to me.

I can only hope that at the end of my career in youth ministry, I will have had a fraction of the impact that Doug has had on youth and other leaders. If I can do that, I will have done my job well.

For a long time, I’ve joked with my husband, Doug, about how he lucked out marrying someone who really does not enjoy shopping.

That said, I confess I have a weakness: The clearance rack at Kohl’s and REI. I can’t enter either of these stores without scouring the clearance rack for great bargains. Once I find one, if it fits, its very difficult for me to resist purchasing my newfound treasure – regardless of whether or not I actually need it.

Then last week, I read a chapter in Rob Bell’s “Jesus Wants to Save Christians” in which he said, “When the fundamental awareness is lost that this is all a gift, luxuries can begin to seem like necessities. Excess can become normal.”

This got me thinking: In what areas of my life has excess become normal?

On the one hand, it’s pretty easy for me to pat myself on the back for the ways that I don’t live with excess in my life. For example: My tiny, 1000 square foot house is certainly not excessive and for four years, Doug & I actually survived with only one car. We now have two, but they’re certainly not “excessive” cars. They’re reasonable, environmentally friendly cars.

But then I think about the fact that even though there’s only two of us, our house has two floors, which means that when we want to, we can completely isolate ourselves from each other by each “living” on our own floor. Then I think about how even though there’s only two of us, we own three working computers. Then I look at the rows and rows of books in my office. Certainly things that I love, but also excess. Then I think again about my clothes and the fact that I have to pack a season’s worth of clothes away in tubs because they won’t fit in my closet all at once. Then I think about the two garbage bags full of clothes that I’m donating to charity next week. Then I think about the 25 t-shirts sitting in my office that rather than wear, I’d like to have made into a t-shirt quilt. Then I think about the quilts that I already have, and the fact that even though there are only two beds in my house, I own 11 sets of sheets. Then I think about my tubs of scrapbooking materials and the fact that Doug has three RC airplanes, even though he can only fly one at a time. Then I think about the four complete sets of dishes that I own. Worse yet, I think about the amount of food Doug & I waste in any given week.

Still worse is the fact that even though I’ve diagnosed the problem, I’m not sure what to do about it other than to say that I think it begins with me literally taking inventory and realizing that given the fact that I already have 76 shirts in my closet, I need not by another one – no matter how great the bargain. As I inventory things, I think I’ll learn to be grateful for all that I have while while also discovering things I don’t need, or have too many of. My plan is to donate those things to people who need them, something that may help others and that will also help me to declutter my life – both physically and spiritually.

I hope the end result is that I’ll be able to live more simply…

And more Christ-like.

In the last 3 years or so, my husband and I have noticed a trend: We’ll befriend a couple who we really get along with, share interests, and genuinely enjoy being with. Before long, the other couple gets pregnant. Nine months later, the baby arrives and our friendship ends. Not because we ever officially declare our friendship over, but simply because our lives suddenly become very different and the commonalities we once shared, though still important to us, become irrelevant to them as their lives become all baby, all the time.

Such a recurring trend has led me to ponder:

Is this the way it’s supposed to be? Is this normal or am I just a bad friend? Is it possible for people to have a baby and yet still care about non baby things? Is it possible for those of us without kids to relate to those who have kids?

These questions have been especially nagging to me because recently, two of the couples in our small group became pregnant. While my friendships with these two couples are much deeper than mine have been with any of the other people we’ve experienced this trend with, I am still concerned that the trend will repeat itself, something that would be truly heartbreaking for me.

Then last week, I heard someone I really look up to speak about the importance of raising one another’s kids, hearkening back to the old saying that “It takes a village to raise a child.”

Truthfully, I find it difficult to wrap my head around this concept because I reside in a busy, extremely mobile, disconnected Chicago suburb and few of my friends actually live anywhere near me. Given this, I truly cannot comprehend the idea of a “village” who knows each other well enough to raise each other’s kids.

For example, consider my neighborhood, where I’ve lived for five years. I live in a townhouse, so my neighbors are extremely close in proximity to me. Yet of the four who are closest geographically to me, I don’t even know the names of one family; The only thing that I can tell you about the second is that he’s a drunk; and I only know the names of the third family because I accidentally backed my car into theirs. It’s only with the fourth neighbor that we have a somewhat “neighborly” relationship, where we shovel one another’s driveways and help each other out.

That’s why I was intrigued by this speaker’s comment reasserting the importance of raising one another’s kids. In particular, he pointed to two things – the need for empty nesters to realize that they still have more kids to raise and the need for small groups to raise one another’s kids.

It’s this last part that got me thinking about my small group, which consists of 4 couples. As soon as our friends shared their pregnancies with us, though happy for them, I’ll admit I was a bit saddened because not only do I fear the continuation of this trend of disappearing friendships, but I also fear that without these two couples, our small group will fold. But what if it doesn’t have to? What if our small group can continue to grow and flourish and to embrace these new arrivals as part of our small group? What if I could see my friend’s children as being not just their responsibility but mine as well?

I think doing so starts with the recognition that family is larger than those who inhabit our house. Even though I won’t be family in the traditional sense, I’d like to still think I have a vested interest in these babies because I love their parents. Eventually, I’d like very much to be the “cool aunt” who the kid goes to when they can’t talk with their parents about something.

Raising one another’s kids also means that I have a responsibility to continue investing my time and energy into my friends. It means that I need to encourage them in their new roles as parents in whatever ways I can – by listening to them share the joys and frustrations of parenting; By changing the occasional diaper; Or by babysitting in order to give them an occasional night off. It also means that my friends have to give me the opportunity to help raise their kids, by not letting their kids become an excuse to disappear.

Specifically in the context of small groups, I think this means that our small group has to find a way to be accessible to growing families. Perhaps this means meeting earlier in the day, on a weekend, in different locations, or for shorter times. While the babies are truly babies, I hope their parents will just bring them to our small group. Eventually, as they start to walk and talk, because I believe that there is value in meeting together as couples and families, I hope our small group can agree to invest in a babysitter during our small group – someone who comes to the house where we’re meeting and watches everyone’s kids at the same time, who everyone (those with and those without kids) chips in to pay for. Though seemingly insignificant, I think this small monetary investment is a powerful statement about the shared cost that comes with raising one another’s kids.

And I do realize that raising each other’s kids is likely a costly venture: Monetarily, Emotionally, and Relationally.

But I’ve also heard people lament about the loneliness of parenting. Perhaps by raising each other’s kids, that doesn’t have to be the case.

Regardless, I can’t help but think how blessed a child would be to have so many people committed to raising her: Parents, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and Friends. That’s a blessing that I hope one day, my own kids will also get to experience.