Our church is building a youth group. As a congregation of young families, this is the first time there have been students old enough for youth, so we have the opportunity and challenge to start a program from scratch. Exciting! In the spirit of beginning with a solid foundation and creating good things, I was sent to the National Youth Workers Convention in San Diego this weekend.
It was fun, as youth workers like doing all the things kids like to do, whether those kids are present or not. So yes, there was Mario Kart and ping pong and a rock wall and a good deal of free stuff (yay free stuff!). Of course there were the standard sit-here-and-learn-stuff seminars, but the big group sessions were a mix of music and worship and dynamic, varied speakers (yes, i said dynamic. and yes, it’s cliche. but it’s also true so go with it), comedy acts, videos, and those shark balloons that look like they’re swimming as they fly through the air (side note: i have been dying to see one of these things in action the minute i saw them on youtube).
Yes, I learned a lot of valuable info that will hopefully be implemented into our program- even beyond the youth room. Also, so many resources were collected that I’m ready to dive into- like curriculum and local service ideas. So my mission was accomplished.
What I wasn’t expecting was the personal stuff that God had planned. As the conference began, I quickly began to suspect I was the only person who attended solo. Anticipating awkwardness and hoping to meet and hang out with new people, I walked into the large main room with strategically designed stage, lighting, and a dj establishing atmosphere. Yeah, pretty much what I expected. Then there was the singing and praise and worship and- that was when God mentioned one tiny little fact-
“You haven’t been worshipping Me.”
me: “Of course I have, silly God. I worship during church every Sunday morning! Ok, so my mind is also on children’s sermons, lesson plans, and meetings, etc… but I also make sure to do some worship and praying in the car on my way there to prepare and make sure I cover my ‘worship quota’.”
God: “Yeah, try focusing right now withOUT those distractions and see what I mean.”
And what do you know- the Almighty God was absolutely correct. And I was glad I was alone while I broke down in tears in actual worship (because we know that if I was with a friend or church person, I would resist vulnerability like a kid rejects broccoli). Then God decided to address a few other issues.
You know when there’s a problem and someone pulls you aside to discuss it away from everyone else? That’s what this felt like. In the solitary confinement of my (quite comfy) hotel room, God talked me through reading, journaling, praying, listening, and addressing the big issues of the past year. It wasn’t instant complete healing- that process with continue to take time- but He demolished a big chunk of the wall I’ve been diligently building around my heart.
me: “So now what, God? We’ve established that I’m quite broken. Doesn’t that make me too defective to properly shepherd the precious young lives at church?”
And so we processed that one together the next day. A couple different speakers referenced the story of the woman at the well, and pointed out that she ministered to her entire town without being completely put together and without understanding all the answers. Furthermore, my experience with the dark struggles of bipolar disorder equips me to handle issues that many youth workers don’t understand or even fear. There’s no way I could relate to someone who’s stranded at rock bottom if I didn’t reside there myself. But I have to get through to the other side in order for this to happen.
So I was feeling pretty good about things, and caught myself actually thinking (adventurously expectant, even) about the future- something I had previously given up. I felt ready for the evening’s speaker, Jamie Tworkowski from To Write Love On Her Arms. I knew that the subject matter would hit close to home (for the story behind TWLOHA, click here and scroll down). When Jamie said, “I don’t have the answers”, I wanted to say, “But you do!” The common thread between his story, my story, and even the stories of other people is this: when someone is in trouble, it takes a team of support LIVING active love to change or save a flailing life. He and his friends surrounded a girl in need, and took every possible practical step to walk with her to recovery. When I got lost this spring, my family of dear friends held onto hope for me when I couldn’t grasp it. They walked through every practical task, holding my hand to pull me up.
In “Christianese” we call this “being the hands and feet of Christ”. In straight-up English this means love in real-life action. We MUST do this- in ministry and outside the church walls- it’s not an option or going the extra mile. It is a requirement for people to live.
Holy cow, this is longer than intended. If I could, I’d give you a cookie for sticking with me and reading this far. But I had to tell you where I went this weekend. I’m the woman who went to a well for one purpose (youth ministry training), and left with unexpected living water. The only logical thing to do next is share with everyone who will listen.
Oh, and on the last day, I finally met a group of fantastic guys from West Virginia. So I even got to hang out with fun new people. It was worth the drive to San Diego, don’t you think?
