Student Ministry | A Matter of Trust

Last night, I did something that really shows I’m in my twenties. Or nuts. Or both.

I pulled an all-nighter to watch the Federer/Nadal match.

And here’s the part that’s really nuts: I spent the entire match—that’s 3+ hours—feeling deeply and incredibly nervous.

Now there’s a word we’re all familiar with. Job interviews, new schools, new homes, changing roles, bigger responsibilities, even emotional attachments to sports players—they all get us to that feeling of turmoil in our gut that we call ‘nervous.’

It’s a feeling I doubt many of us are fond of, but it also seems to be one that we just can’t escape. And sometimes, when I catch myself feeling especially nervous before a big day, the youth minister in me begins to wonder… were the big names in the bible ever nervous?

Who, Me? Nervous?

This past spring, I was invited to sign on as a contributor to Sparkhouse’s re:form Ancestors curriculum, and it’s a series I quickly picked up and used with the kids I teach in ministry. I love this study because it exposes the greatest ancestors of the Christian faith for what they really were: people. Real, unpolished, imperfect—but faithful!—people. And it taught the kids that these people had normal emotions. Take, for example, Moses. Now here’s a guy who got nervous.

Here’s something we folks in [student] ministry tend to forget: the youth in our churches are ready to wrestle with theological questions. There have been and will be tons of posts in this blog about what we can learn from the kids of our churches and just how theologically thoughtful they already are. Today’s post, really, is more about a different issue. Today I’m issuing a call for adults to trust young people to be as smart as they really are.

“The Youth Are Our Future”

I hear often in the church that young people are our future, and it’s a phrase that I really can’t stand. Because here’s what I believe: The youth are the church. Right now. And they need to be let in on the serious theological discussions.

For 15 weeks, I have been engaged in really thoughtful conversation with the young people I serve about the ancestors of our faith. For 15 weeks, I have been blown away at their insight and their faithful exploration. And I have found once again that, when we challenge and encourage youth to wrestle with their faith, when we trust them to be bright enough to think theologically, that’s when we have youth that are engaged. That’s when we have youth that are growing. And that’s when we have youth that will even consider a future in the church.

Too often, ministry to youth and children becomes all about reinforcing clichés and convincing them that we have all the answers. But this isn’t something that forms ‘sticky’ faith. Too often, we don’t trust kids enough to really engage in their own spiritual formation, and then we’re shocked when kids at 14, 15, or 16 want to leave the church.

But really, adults, would you stay in a church if you weren’t allowed to claim your faith and make it your own?

Here’s a simple fact: it’s scary to trust youth. We never really know what they’re going to say or do. But which, I ask you, is scarier? A church that trusts their youth? Or a church that loses them and never gains them back?

I know where I weigh in; I wonder where our churches will.

Someone Else’s Job

I am coming to that point in my life where it’s more and more difficult to shirk unwanted tasks and pass them to other people. That’s not to say it’s impossible—you and I, we both know plenty of full-grown adults who make a sport of escaping things they don’t want to do. But there is a point when it becomes tougher. And there are certain life-changing moments that pin us all with interesting jobs we never knew would be ours.

Before I go any further here, those of you who have come to this blog without knowing me need to be clued in on a key fact here: my mother died this summer, very suddenly. That’s not a note for sympathy or shock value, but it is a fact. And it’s a fact  that has left me picking up new responsibilities I didn’t see coming six months ago. Most recently: baking Mom’s sugar cookies for my older brother.

But I’ve Never Had to Do That Before!

How did the disciples do it?

It’s a thought that’s crossed my mind more than once when saying goodbye to a strong, mentoring presence in my life, and it’s front and center today as I pack up cookies and birthday gifts for their trip to my brother in California: How, in the mess of Jesus’ crucifixion, in the sudden and devastating loss of their teacher and friend, in the chaos that surrounded them in this new Jesus-less world, did the disciples manage to pick up his ministry? How did they carry it on?

Someone asked me in the week of my mother’s death where in the Bible to look for hope in the loss of a loved one, and I rather quickly pointed her to Acts. Of all the books to offer, all the psalms and verses and prayers, I thought both she and I might find the most hope in Acts. After all, Acts is where the disciples decide to take on Jesus’ job. Acts is where they decide to continue  his ministry. Acts is where they decide to tell others about all he had done and to do more in his name. And Acts is where we are all reminded of this promise about the whole world’s ability to do all that Christ did:

God declares… I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.
Acts 2:17

I don’t know how God does it. And I don’t know how the disciples did it. I don’t know where they found the courage, what inspired them, how they resisted the urge to turn from God. But I do know that if they hadn’t carried on, then I wouldn’t have my faith. If they hadn’t carried on, the world would be entirely different than it is today. If they hadn’t carried on, this blog wouldn’t be, this culture wouldn’t be, this hope of redemption and renewal and resurrection wouldn’t be.

In your life, as you are asked to do things that someone else has done before, as you find yourself being called to fill in someone else’s role—no matter what the reason—may you find peace in the understanding that even when we’re unsure of our ability to do it well, even when we fear what will happen with us in the lead, we are fully equipped to carry on. We have been shown the way by those who came before us. And we are being shown the way by the God who was present for the disciples, is present for us, and will be present for those who we one day call to do our jobs for us.

Advent | Oh, for the love of God!

This morning, I walked into the church building and set to work cleaning my desk. It’s been cluttered for weeks now and was probably due for a heavy duty clean-up anyhow, but my cleaning session had nothing to do with the piles of papers, the dog-eared resource books, or the un-peeled banana that may or may not have been forgotten under said papers a few days ago. Instead, it had everything to do with a mug my grandmother sent for Christmas.

It’s an adorable little mug I already love having around for tea. Just my size. Just my style. And just right for a church office since it quotes scripture and reminds me to trust in God.

Mid-cleaning session, I laughed out loud at how silly it was to clean just for the sake of having a new mug at my desk. And then I got to thinking about Jesus.

Somebody’s coming, you know…

My mother was a very good housekeeper. I’m not saying she was perfect by any means—you could walk into our house on a regular day and find dishes in the sink or clutter on our counters, and she had two kids who were relatively messy—but I can still remember what it was like around our place when she found out company was coming.

Out came the broom, window cleaner, bathroom cleaner, and dust rags. Away went the messes, the toys, and my ability to use my floor as ‘the biggest shelf in the room.’ Everything had a place in our house—specifically chosen by Mom to make it accessible when needed and pleasant to look at when not. All this cleaning; just for our grandparents or a neighbor.

I remember wondering one Christmas what things would have been like if royalty came to visit. What if she really had to welcome the King? Of course, I doubt I considered the right kind of preparations in my snotty interior dialogue. Because at that point in my life—caught up in the reds and greens of Christmas, instead of the golds and the whites—I didn’t realize that when John told us to prepare for Jesus, he wasn’t talking about a clean house. He was talking about a clean heart. A heart filled with hope, peace, joy, and love.

Jesus, the King was born. And on Sunday we will celebrate his birth. How’s your cleaning going? Have you straightened your desk, just to make room for this one special thing? Have you gotten rid of all that distracting clutter? Are you ready to meet the King?

Actually, Jesus, I’m glad there’s a line.

I once had a professor who liked to say shocking things. And things about himself.  I remember precious few of his theology lessons, but I do remember his floppy hair, his affinity for YouTube videos, his wife’s name, and one particular mid-lecture comment from four years ago:

“You know, when you wish there wasn’t all that traffic around you or that long line ahead… you’re basically wishing the other people dead.”

Say what?

Moving Forward…

Okay, let’s not kid ourselves here. It’s December. Christmas is fast-approaching. Children are in pageants and concerts. Adults have to work, run errands, wrap gifts, cook, host, and did I mention tend to families? Forget naughty and nice—tell me truthfully, have you been patient this year?

Consider, if you will, the ancient Israelites. Two thousand years ago, they were doing a little ‘patient’ waiting of their own.

For centuries the prophets of Israel had foretold the coming Messiah. From Adam to Malachi, the prophets spoke and wrote of the day when God would come to earth, take on human flesh, and become their savior. Isaiah’s prophecies spoke of the Messiah in poetic turns of phrase that we still hear at Christmastime today.

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end…. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.
Isaiah 9:6-7

But two thousand years ago, when God knew this child was on the way, the Israelites… didn’t. All they knew was that they were waiting and waiting in an unfriendly world. The nation was in turmoil under Roman control.  The people were divided between Gentile and Jew and between sects that pulled them all further apart. Add to this the fact that God had been quiet for about 400 years—not one prophet, angel, or miracle to speak of—and we can see why, for some of Israel, it seemed like God had left the scene, and left a lot to be waited for.

It was a long haul for Israel. A long wait in for an unknown arrival. Standing in that line must have been exhausting. And yet, the elation felt upon the arrival of first John the Baptist and then in the birth of Jesus himself must have been incredible! God was paying attention, as it turned out; working behind the scenes in God’s own way and time. And when the moment was right, the waiting came to an end—God stepped directly into the world and gave just what it needed. After all those years, the people of Israel could sing a new song. No longer, “he is coming,” but finally, “he is here.”

The Practice of Waiting in Line

My faithful readers know that last week’s post was also about Advent and waiting, but today I invite you to take a different look at this season of anticipation and hope.

In this final week or so before Christmas, when you’re waiting in line at a store, when you’re stuck in traffic and impatient to move along, when your patience is waning with that acquaintance or relative you’d just assume not see this year, don’t stew. Don’t fume. Don’t work yourself up with irritation or rage. But do remember ancient Israel. Remember their waiting. And live gratefully that the Post Office wait is the longest you’ll have this year.

Your Christ has already come. And Christmas is already all that it ever should be.

Advent | Why Do We Wrap Our Gifts?

Here are a few facts about my church work-life that you may or may not already know:

• Sometimes, the kids I minister to ask really good questions.
• Sometimes (a lot of times), I don’t know the answers.
• Sometimes, I make the answers up.
• Sometimes (rare times), I make them up quite well.

Last night, I got one of those really-great-but-difficult-to-answer questions, and it went a little something like this: “Emmy, why do we wrap Christmas gifts anyway?”

I stumbled and stammered, and then… I got to thinking about Advent.

A Season of Waiting

The word Advent comes from the Latin adventus, and literally means “arrival” or “coming.” In societies of the Roman Empire of Jesus’ day,  adventus usually referred to the arrival of a person of dignity and great power: a king, an emperor, even one of the gods.  For us—for Christians—Advent is the time before Christmas when the whole church patiently prepares for the coming of Jesus to that little town of Bethlehem. It’s a time of anticipation, a time of hope and longing, a time of waiting. It’s a time of wondering what will come our way in the new year to come. (Advent is, after all, the official start of the church year). It’s a time of hope, peace, joy, and love. And it’s a time when we’re invited to think of the what’s coming—of the deep longing the world once felt and still feels for its Messiah—and to let our hearts fill with the expectation of the gift we’ll soon receive.

If you think about it, all of Advent is a wrapped Christmas gift. On Christmas day, we open ourselves to Jesus’ birth and his presence in our lives—but in the four weeks leading up we’re asked to wait, to hold our collective breath, and to let our hearts long for Mary’s special delivery.

So to the kid who asked about wrapping gifts, and to the readers up to their ankles in unwrapped gifts, covered in scotch tape and paper cuts, consider this: when you wrap a gift, you are reflecting the traditions of the church. You are asking the receiver to wonder and hope. You are showing your love for the lead-up to Christmas.

When you wrap a gift, you are celebrating the season of anticipation; you’re getting ready to celebrate the day.

Student Ministry | Cooking for a Crowd

As I held the knife in my hand, my chest puffed up with pride. I had finally done it, I had become one of them—I was a woman who could cook.

Yes, I remember vividly that life-changing day when my dad came for Thanksgiving and I cooked a meal that both he and my boyfriend quite liked. It may not have been Thanksgiving dinner, but it was a good dinner, and the taste of that victory is still fresh in my mouth. Probably because it was only a week ago yesterday.

Give me a break; I’m darn proud.

Here’s the thing about cooking: it’s accessible, but frightening.  Anyone can do it, but a lot of us keep away from the kitchen, convinced beyond a doubt that we’ll fail. I’m sure there are foodies and chefs worldwide who don’t agree that anyone can cook—certainly, at the very least, a picky Pixar critic—but in my experience all it takes is a little bravery to get potential great chefs into the kitchen.

Cooking with Kids

I love cooking with teenagers. As I write this post, I’m in my church office munching on leftover Chex Mix from our youth group’s cooking adventures  last night. It was a session soaked in metaphor and story about how to ‘build’ things, using Solomon as a storyboard. The kids were having fun getting their hands dirty while they built spaghetti and marshmallow Temples. And I was grinning in the kitchen when this group of teenagers made treats for the church’s  Coffee Hour on Sunday. Not one, but three pies; a different kind of Chex Mix; a whole lot of chocolate chip cookies.

I challenged the group to go big, and I had them do it all. After all, this is a rare thing for us: it’s not often that a bunch of kids get to handle something that matters for the whole congregation.

They’re “Different”

Teenagers are hard to pin down. Sit with them at lunch and their cell phones buzz text alerts while they chat about the newest viral video on YouTube or their latest conquest in Angry Birds. They live through their iPod playlists and have a song for every mood and situation. When big news breaks, they don’t learn about it on NBC or CNN, they get it from their Facebook feed. And when, mid-conversation, they find themselves wondering what exactly bagel chips are or why bumping your elbow causes a bruise, they don’t wait for the answer; they search Google, find what they’re looking for, and move on.

For teens today, the world is a mouse-click away. Young people buy, learn, connect, research, and share knowledge online. Everything connects, converses, and communes. Everything is personalized. And everything they do… confuses the heck out of most adults over 35.

Sometimes teenagers can be scarier than a kitchen of ingredients with no recipe.

The life of a teenager today bears little resemblance to the life that most adults in today’s churches experienced during their youth, and so I make a point of not worrying too much when adult apprehensions get the best of a situation. I also make a point of celebrating the moments in which someone hands a big responsibility to a big, goofy bunch of kids.

Teenagers are accessible, but they’re frightening. So is the completion of that perfect recipe. Each of us has a kitchen we’re afraid to enter, and each of us has an experience we’re a little too timid to approach. We want things perfect, organized, predictable, familiar. But in truth, we can’t live our lives without testing strange waters. We can’t survive without trusting strange people.

So what’s inside your kitchen? Who’s too different to help you take on that task?

If you’re feeling stuck, it’s time toss on the apron and revel in your experimental chef nature. It’s time to toss out the old recipe cards, grab some new spices, or taste a new flavor. Forget the easy take-and-bake cookies. It’s time to make pie, to mix treats, to try something tough.

Anyone can do easy; it’s time to show we can do more.

Wake Up and Smell the Commotion

I can’t stop staring at the empty Starbucks cup on my desk.

I stopped in for a drink today and while the hipster barista with the toothy smile made my order, I wondered what it would take to move my office to a little table in the corner for the day. And, if I were a gambler, I’d put good money on a bet that I wasn’t alone. Anyone who’s ever spent that luxurious $4 for a cup of Joe knows it—Starbucks knows how to draw people in, and they know how to make you stay.

Those familiar with Starbucks history know that the company has not been without struggles. When music CDs, espresso machines, logo-covered mugs and a mass of other products began to invade stores, sales flattened, and when Howard Schultz returned as CEO, he had one goal in mind.  For Schultz, it wasn’t just about restoring financial health; he wanted to heal the Starbucks soul.

Schultz knew that good coffee—and a good coffee house experience—starts with a bean, but ends with being. He understood that people pay big bucks for a place that allows them to get away from the office, sit  with a friend, or take a soothing siesta. He believed that good coffee houses allowed people to escape and experience.

And, I believe… so should good churches.

Before we go too far into this comparison, I should probably come out and say it: I’m far from the first person to compare churches to a coffee house. I remember seeing this pre-Shultz-revamp video a few years back and sharing it with a lot of the church folk I knew.

You get the idea; the coffee-church comparison certainly isn’t mine, and others have said it better than I.

So before we move too deep into my reinvention of the wheel, let me cut to the point: In the early 2000s, there was a great difference between the present-day Starbucks, and the original Seattle store. Regardless of the reason, when Starbucks embraced the problem, they were able to return to their cherished values and original DNA. Churches, it seems, could benefit from doing the same. It’s time for us to get back to the ‘coffee’.

To the first Christians, church was about connection and community. The early church met daily in homes to share meals and stories and spiritual truths. It provided a safe place for conversation. It didn’t have buildings. It got messy. The first churches—well—they were couch instead of pew, conversation instead of sermon, food instead of foyer. As a result, they were more engaging, more vibrant, and often more exciting communities. Today’s churches have become bogged down in the ‘merchandise.’

Some have forgotten our purpose and fallen pray to gimmicks, fads, and other good-but-not-best strategies. And we sit in grave danger of having our trend become tradition and having our relevance fall into a rut.

So what’s getting in the way of real worship at your church? What is your sacred elephant in the room? Is it the explosion of technologies that are getting more time in worship than theology? Is it that connections are shallow because we’re all moving too fast?

There’s an exciting stir in churches these days that’s seeking out the original DNA of our faith. It’s time to return to our roots. So today, with my coffee all finished and gone, I’ll savor instead the blessing that every problem is pregnant with possibility, and no obstacle is impossible to overcome.

How to Invite a Friend to Church

When news broke a few weeks back that the troops are coming home, I heard a number of different reactions. Many celebrations, some concerns about the economy, others more or less indifferent. But for me it was a fellow minister’s response that stuck out more than any other: “If we’re lucky, this will mean more Americans attending church.”

The more I thought about it, the more this one made sense.

It’s no secret that church numbers are on the decline, nor is it breaking news that returning vets will need a network of care. So this week, for those with a vet in your life—or for those with friends that have no church home—here’s a little field guide on how to invite a friend to church (without scaring them in the process).

Step One: Choose Your Words Carefully

Before you invite a friend to church, remember that words like witness, testimony, and evangelism can cause queasy stomachs among many un-churched or semi-churched people in your life. I recommend not using a single one. Instead, find a comfortable, personal language you can use to talk about church. Rather than sharing the story of how you ‘came to Jesus,’ share experiences. Talk about your faith and church as if they were natural parts of your life. Did you have an uplifting experience during worship? Share it. Was there a thought-provoking sermon last week? Tell about it. Have you met people who are meaningful to you now? Introduce them. Intrigue your friends and let them ask questions—tailor the discussion to their needs, not yours.

Step Two: Choose Someone You’d Invite to Dinner

This one may seem obvious, but keep in mind that an invitation to church is a lot less frightening to someone you already know well. Instead of approaching a stranger with a bullhorn in your hand, try adding faith to an already open relationship. Explain the ways you connect faith and daily living, then ask if they would like to share the experience. Who knows—an invitation to church may become a new way to enjoy your friendship together.

Step Three: Use Special Events as an Excuse

With the holidays just around the corner, there’s no better—or easier—time to invite a friend to church. Remember that ‘regular’ church services can be intimidating for some, and consider inviting someone to a special event like the Christmas pageant or a special Thanksgiving affair instead. Use eating as an excuse and invite friends to special dinners, church bake sales, or brunches. Invite them to join your church on a mission trip or at a local food bank. Sometimes, newcomers benefit from meeting the community before they join in communion.

Step Four: Put Your Kids to Work

Take advantage of the outgoing kids in your life and encourage them to invite their friends as well. Encourage your kids and teens to invite friends from school to church programs, worship services, and youth events. Tell your kids’ friends that Saturday-night sleepovers mean church the next day. Once you’ve hooked the kids, invite their parents to join in the fun.

Step Five: Don’t Forget to Enjoy it Yourself

Every so often, another article like this comes along and reminds us of the positive impact churches have in our lives. Do your best to focus on that. Complaining about your church or it’s people isn’t likely to help you get a friend through the doors. Instead, teach yourself to accentuate the positive about your church—not only will it shape the way you invite others to attend, but it may change the way you feel when you step through the doors.

Student Ministry | What Are You Teaching My Kids?

One of my favorite real-life-in-ministry stories goes a little something like this:

Just over a year ago, I received a Monday morning phone call from a mother with a real concern about what was happening with the youth of our church. The problem, she said, wasn’t really my youth ministry program—it was the change she was starting to see in her children. “Last night,” she told me, “my kid asked to pray before dinner. Honestly, I was really just hoping they’d go to church to learn right from wrong.”

End scene.

It’s a moment I think about often, and it’s one that always leaves me with the same questions: Are lessons in morality all ministry is good for? What happened to God’s place in my work? And if I call myself a youth minister, what exactly do I mean?

This Wednesday night, as I surveyed the kids who join in on the church’s weekly student ministry, I tried to remember how each of them had come to our group. Some I know have families that attend Sunday worship, while others arrived with friends. One, I’m told, was shopping for a program that fit her needs and settled on mine mainly thanks to a certain cute boy was already a regular. A few came only periodically for months, until they finally found their place in the community worth coming back for, and others have their own stories….

And that’s when it hit me, just like it has so many times before. It’s not about the food or the games or the lessons of right and wrong. And despite the blow to my ego, it’s not about the lesson plans I work so hard on. Most of the time, it’s not even the Bible stories (but keep that one under your hat). No, in the end, what keeps these teenagers coming back is the real knowledge that—at least in this place—they count. It’s knowing that, when all else fails, their youth group and their faith can be counted upon.

In many contexts, I know, ‘youth ministry’ is just another way to say ‘fellowship,’ or ‘outreach,’ and it can bear a real resemblance to ‘club.’ But I truly believe that for some kids—for these kids—

Well, for these kids, it means more than that.

Young people can go to school to hear the latest gossip, head to band practice to express their creative side, and hit the soccer field to learn all about playing by the right-and-wrong rules of the game. But when kids get involved in youth ministry, they do it to find something deeper.

They come to feel God, to know presence, to experience divine love.

When the Phone Rings

I have come to learn that, in general, my phone at the church doesn’t often ring because the caller is happy. It rings when someone is sick, or dying, or has died. It rings because a kid’s in trouble or has lost something they love. On rare occasions, it rings when someone wants to sell me something. Last year, it rang so someone’s mother could warn me against telling young people too much about God.

But no matter why it rings—and no matter whose voice I hear—I have begun to listen more often for the other voice I know is always in the background. A small but powerful, still-speaking voice that does its best to lead me on.

“Tell the kids I’m here,” it says. “And while you’re at it, make sure you don’t forget I’m here yourself.”

Writing the Words

It’s been a writing kind of week. For those of you who have come to this blog without knowing me, I should fill you in on something: I do a lot of writing. For grad school, for Sparkhouse, for the church book club, for my youth ministry, for the occasional Sunday sermon…. And since last week’s post,  it seems I had a little work to do for all of the above.

These days, I’m not only writing a lot, but I’m dating a writer. And I suppose it should come as no surprise that we talk—quite often—about this craft. It’s one that we both love a great deal, and have each been fortunate enough to make a little cash from. But my personal favorite part about being a self-proclaimed ‘writer’? I love being attached to such a history.

“Can I Borrow Your Rock?”

Before the invention of alphabets, cave-dwellers once used rocks to scratch the stories of their people on rock walls that were protected from the elements. Though the format was different, the intention has barely changed: to preserve, for posterity, the stories of our struggles and triumphs.

This is simply something that people do. Generations upon generations of people have journaled their thoughts and recorded events of the day. Some do it through journalism, some through personal diaries, some through biography, fiction, or poetry. Meriwether Lewis kept a diary of his expedition across North America. Arthur Miller wrote a play about the Salem Witch Hunts to tell people of the Red Scare. Presidents and world leaders keep journals to record their tenure and judgment. Children’s book authors write stories to pass morals along to the next generation.

And all of this writing is done with an eye to the future.

I assume you’ve all seen this video by now….

It’s a tender exploration from Google about how technology is propelling us forward to new ways of sharing our lives with others. And today, it has me thinking about journaling….

For my great grandmother, journaling consisted of a simple notation on the date in a calendar diary; on the day of my mother’s birth, her diary simply reads, “Kathy Sue born.” Over time, journaling evolved into a means of reflection. Now, with Facebook, blogs, Twitter, and more, written reflections are becoming targeted: thoughts meant to be read by a specific kind of audience, rather than preserved for oneself.

It seems to me there’s an inherent desire in all people—though more powerful in some—to tell one’s story. There’s something in each of us that wants to see our life recorded for posterity, for clarity, for help understanding our place in God’s universe. Whether it’s done with a rock, quill, ink, or internet, the journal freezes a moment in time and saves it at least for a while. And who in this world wouldn’t want to be remembered, at least for a while?