YMJen

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.