This goes for everyone, not just the “Ministers” that work in the church, but for volunteers and anyone who takes on the role of “minister” to anyone in the church. 

It’s the fact that at some level, you can’t really be yourself. 

Have a beer occasionally? Better make sure a picture of you tilting one back doesn’t end up on Facebook. Same goes for anything similar: beer, pipes, cigars, wine, etc. While I don’t personally believe that these are cardinal sins, I do think that we need to be careful when and where we expose kids to the knowledge that we as adults might enjoy one or more of these things on occasion. 

But the list can go on. I worked at a church that didn’t allow me to see ‘R’ rated movies in the theater, for fear that a kid might see me walking in/out of it and think it was a prescription for them to do the same. The church also forbid me playing video games rated above “Teen” because the lowest age we worked with was 12, and we wouldn’t want them to think that they could play those games too, would we? 

As an extreme, the church also discouraged my wife (wife!) and I from public affection, because the kids might think they should do that stuff with their boyfriends and girlfriends. That was just unbelievable to me. 

But the issue remains: there are just some things you can’t do anymore, that are perfectly fine for adults to do, because of your proximity to those of a “weaker” disposition (or maybe they’re the stronger ones, who knows?). 

I struggle with myself, back and forth; why can’t I just be a blameless person? If I was truly blameless, I wouldn’t feel this constant tension between who I really am, and who I let the kids see. 

Sometimes I envy those who really can claim the freedom of Christ to live their lives according to his will, without the heavy judgement of those around them because of their “position.” 

It seems to me that the issue is not that we should all refrain from doing anything that others would consider wrong (because people have some jacked up ideas about what’s wrong and right), but that the goal is always teaching. We should endeavor to teach and lead. Help kids understand that it’s okay for a married couple to have sex, but it’s not okay for them to have sex with their boyfriend/girlfriend. 

And that’s just the point. Kids do understand that. Especially that particular thing. So I think we’re selling them short, and even damaging them, when we simply insulate them from the reality of life.

That idea of not insulating definitely isn’t safe. It would require diligent and constant dialogue between kids and mentors (parents included). That’s hard. Sometimes it’s just easier to cover our kids’ eyes (both figuratively and literally) when something happens that we don’t want to help them understand. 

There’s a proper context for everything. Note, I’m not saying that everything is permissible (though Paul seems to). I’m saying that for every experience in this life, there is a proper context for and from which it is to be understood. It is up to us, the leaders and teachers of kids, to help them understand these contexts. 

It’s not the safest way. But it’s the best way. A way for which we are all inadequate. Good thing our Helper isn’t.

They’re all great leaders. They care about the kids and the ministry. I don’t know if I could categorize a single one of the youth leaders as being a trouble-maker. Not one of them feels like a willfully rebellious member of the team. 

But, it’s hard being a leader of people who have been doing ministry here longer than I have. I have picked up on a very subtle vibe from a few of the leaders that manifests itself in mistrust, or distrust, of my leadership. 

If I was a member of the team, I would do what the leader asked. For some reason, when I ask this team to do something, they simply don’t. 

I wanted them to read through some small group questions and accompanying Bible passages, and then write a few of their own questions. Also, I requested that they pray over these materials in preparation for their meetings. 

This is a weekly thing. I think it wouldn’t take more than 30 minutes for them to do this simple task. But for some reason, there has not been one week where all of them did it. There hasn’t even been a week where MOST of them did it. 

My conclusion is this: old blood is hard. That seems a little gross I guess, but it’s true. 

I don’t have influence based on experience with this team yet. I don’t know if I ever will. Because I’m just the new guy. I always will be. To compound the issue, I’m younger than some of them. And the ones I’m younger than seem to view that as reason to look down on me. 

They’re good people. Just a little crusty. Old, hard, crusty, blood. 

I’ll keep trying. I’ll not give up on serving and loving them. And hopefully, one day, I can lead them in that.

We had our youth group gathering tonight, and it went well. At least I think it did.

But something was off. Not quite right. Something was troubling.

I think there are several reasons that I could feel troubled (I’ve had a lot happen recently), but primarily I believe that the reason is me.

Surely other ministers feel the same way sometimes. They teach these passionate, challenging lessons, then look deep inside their hearts and find that they themselves aren’t following their own advice.

It’s hard. Troubling.

I want to be a singleminded man. A man that believes and does what he says and tells others to do. I want to be that kind of man. But I’m not. I’m a wretch.

I wallow in my sin, complacency, hypocrisy. I don’t know why.

But tonight, it is eating at me. I feel worthless. Like a deceiver.

I’m not worthy of this task, but I desire to do it. I’m not perfect, but I do think I’m called.

God forgive me for my divided heart and mind. Help me to love and serve you with all I am. Forgive me. Help me. Amen.

At the most recent one, the pastor posed to us a question, but he prefaced it with some comments about the state of the average member of our church. His observations were that many people walk into the building looking tired. They’re tired because they have so much going on in their lives that they just don’t have any real gas left when it comes to church. 

The pastor also observed that even the small percentage of the members who do volunteer and give tons of time and energy, even (maybe especially) they seem exhausted. Not only are they dealing with their busy lives, but they’re carving out significant time and mind share to give to the church family. 

So his question was this: “What keeps you going?” In other words, what compels you to push beyond your tiredness and keep serving? Why do you do it? 

There were many answers, ranging from things like, “I love seeing the victories, when people really change.” To, “I just make time to spend with God, and out of the overflow of that, I serve.” To, “It just needs to be done.” 

It got me thinking about what keeps me going. I know that I’m a bit different, because it’s technically my job, so it’s all I deal with. But at the same time, I made a choice to reject the life I could have had, in favor of a life of full-time ministry. With that role comes unique stresses and pressures that the average volunteer doesn’t feel, at least not as strongly. 

So what is it that keeps me going? Why am I here? Certainly I love seeing the victories. I definitely serve as an overflow of my relationship with God. And often times I see a job that just needs to get done, so I do it. But for me, and I’m not saying those other reasons are wrong, but for me the real impetus behind what I do and why I do it is this: I cannot help it. 

It brings to mind the verse in Jeremiah 20:9. It’s often quoted, because it’s such a striking image of how God works on some people. But for me, I feel it. I know it well, because I’ve tried to resist. 

But if I say, “I will not mention him 
or speak any more in his name,” 
his word is in my heart like a fire, 
a fire shut up in my bones. 
I am weary of holding it in; 
indeed, I cannot. 

I am a minister, because I have no choice.

Back when I was just a kid in youth group, we called them “sponsors,” but around here, we call them “youth leaders.” And I like it that way. Aye. It gives more credibility to the role. More responsibility. You’re not just a warm body that ups the adult/student ratio. You’re a leader of youth. You lead youth in being disciples.

Anyway. I need youth leaders. But I have no idea how to get them.

It seems like every time I get a good idea of someone to be a youth leader, I take that idea to my senior pastor, and he tells me one of two things:

1. They would be great youth leaders, but they’re up to their eyeballs volunteering in other ministries.
2. They will be great youth leaders, but not for another year or so. They need time to mature.

I love my senior pastor. He’s a wonderful, wise, sagely mentor for me. In fact, he handed this ship over to me, as he was it’s last true captain. So I trust him completely when he tells me these things about potential youth leaders. The last thing I want is to steal good people from another ship, over-extend already overly-extended people, or get some immature disaster-waiting-to-happen Jonah on the crew. But I have to be honest, it’s getting frustrating. I mean, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?

How can I draw new leaders out? How can I generate buzz? Pique interest?

I don’t want to cry out in desperation to people, as my sage mentor wisely counseled me, “Remove the words ‘need’ ‘help’ and ‘desperate’ from your vocabulary, cabin boy.” No one wants to jump on board a sinking, burning, gunpowder-laden ship. Even the heroic Prince Eric jumped off of one of those.

But neither can the ship sail with a skeleton crew. And right now, our ship is no clipper; she’s far from sailing with a bone in her teeth. I feel like I’m constantly seeing the slack sails, and shouting “Man the oars!”

So what about the souls in our care right now?

The current crew feels the need. And the longer it takes to find more, the closer I come to another (yes another) mutiny.

It’s not all hopeless though. I am working on at least one new youth leader, and definitely have my eyes open (look lively!) for prospects all the time. I have other ideas up my sleeve, and the stars still shine at night to sail by, but it will take time for me to implement them in a seaworthy fashion.

I just wrote this entire post once, and for inexplicable reasons WordPress logged me out at some point, so when I hit “Publish” it took me to a login screen. Poof! Everything’s gone. This is my second attempt, and I think it’s better for it.

Then it happens. I get overwhelmed with this task, this calling, this weight.

You would think that after being away at Colorado on a spiritual renewing retreat that I’d be refreshed, encouraged, invigorated and, well, renewed. But I’m praying, and all the sudden I feel heavy. I feel like if this prayer is one of those simple “thankee fer frands, fallashyip, an’ fewd” prayers, that the whole world will crumble. That the stability kingdom of God itself will be in jeopardy or seriously in question.

So I pray, very slowly, choosing my words as if the fabric of eternity is only a flippant phrase away from shredding. I pray, because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I pray, because I am a sinful wretch of a man. I pray, because all of this is so totally out of my control. I pray, because I cannot do otherwise.

And after I pray, I cry. I’m a man, but man, sometimes it’s the only way to deal with it all. I cry, and my wife moves close to me, her warm body pressing against my back, and her gentle hand rests on my shoulder.

“You’re the man for the job,” she says. “It’s pretty obvious that this is where God wants you.”

I love my wife. I love her heart. I would be lost without her.

And for now, I pray and I cry. Because I am a youth minister, and I am completely inadequate.