Dude, I don’t understand your family.” Vin sat with me on my front stoop as I played catch with my young son. I had met Vin through a teacher at the high school that was worried about him. In a lot of ways, Vin was your typical fringe kid - short, with long blonde hair and a black wardrobe that made his pale skin seem downright goolish. Which I think was the point.
There were lots of kids at the high school who looked like Vin, but Mrs. Kurtzer was particularly concerned for him because he seemed to take it to the next level. Vin was advertising a deepening participation in the occult and was starting to show up to school with his face painted al la Brandon Lee in “The Crow”.
Mrs. Kurtzer called me and asked if we could take Vin to camp.
Vin jumped at the opportunity and assumed he would terrify the church people by showing up to the bus in all black with his “Satan is Cool” shirt. He was a stark contrast to the guys in long, white tees and fitted caps and girls in their summer pastels. Most of them knew Vin and was surprised to see him on the trip…but everyone went along.
Vin was a bit disappointed that the proclamation on his chest didn’t really freak anyone out – so he upped the ante with face paint. Still, no one really noticed. People still talked to him and accepted him. By the end of the week Vin told us that even though he wasn’t ready to do the whole “Jesus” thing, he told us “I know for the first time that I am loved and that I can love back.”
I’ll take it.
Vin became a regular feature at my house that summer. Now, sitting with me he said “I want to make it my life to study your family. You seem to love your kids. You spend time with them and play with them. I just have never seen that before”. I was honest with him and told him it wasn’t because I was a particularly good guy, but knowing Jesus in an intimate way has changed how I think about life. Truly, it changed how I think about Vin.
Kids like Vin assume that they don’t belong with church people. Many inside the church have hijacked the idea of holiness to justify their isolation from people they don’t like or understand. The scriptures are clear that God calls us to be separate and God’s people have been getting it twisted since day one.
The Pharisee’s question in Matthew 9 is a fair one. Jesus has just asked a tax collector to be his disciple and is now at a party with a whole lot of tax collectors, prostitutes, and all kinds of people on the fringe. The Pharisees want to know why Jesus would eat with them when we are supposed to be holy.
Jesus gives them clarification on the theology of holiness. He quotes Hosea 6:6 and tells them to go figure out what it really means. The Hosea verse uses the word “hesed” that is translated all kinds of different ways in English. It is the word that describes what God really desires of his people. It means commitment to God on the deepest level. It’s the word used to describe the highest order of modern Judaism – Hassidic.
As with many words God gives us, it became a word used to cut off hurting and broken people from the warmth of God’s presence.
When Jesus grabs the word and couches it in the backdrop of dinner with sinners He is inciting a revolution. He is saying that holiness doesn’t mean running away from people, but embracing them. It means living a life transformed by love in front of and within people.
It means being the kind of man that God is making me to be and doing it with a psudo-satanist kid from New Jersey who sees in me the man he wants to be.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Father's Day
In our family we simply have no ability to wait when it comes to gift giving. Christmas usually comes to our house around the 20th and our "birthdays" usually fall on the day after gifts have been purchased. As a result, it was no surprise when I was sat down to receive my Father's day gifts last SATURDAY.
Each child lined up to present the gifts they had for me. My kids are still young, so gifts are all made at school. A very stressed out Jack was first. He was working hard to hold his gift together since he had wrapped it with a giant piece of construction paper and had overlooked the use of tape. I was grateful of this gap in his process as the paper was an elaborate art project on it's own. One side had Jack and I walking through a field holding hands. I'm tall and thin with an abnormally large head (Jack is a realist) and he with his orange hair. The other side was a detailed battle between the world's greatest superheroes and some unnamed baddies. He knows what I like.
I have failed to mention the gift. A highly decorated Frisbee that followed the immediate request of a "Frisbee appointment" later that evening. I was happy to oblige.
Calvin was next. He had a flawlessly wrapped gift. It was a small, red, cube-shaped package that had Father's Day wishes written in printing that shouted "I was done by the teacher!". Offering the traditional "Cal, what did you get me?" his reply was an excited "I don't know, I can't remember!" It seemed that me opening this gift was filled with anticipation for both of us!
As I opened his gift he saw the blue sparkly paint of the little box and laughed excitedly "I remember! It's a box" and re-presented the expertly painted, assembled, and again printed box to me with great pride. It was obvious that he might have picked up a paint brush during the creation of this gift - but little more. He was thrilled.
Taylor's gift was still coming. Emerging from the basement (where my printer resides) I was presented with a certificate. It seems that I am a #1 Dad (sorry to all of you who thought you were in the running). It was designed and printed by him and signed - in cursive! He was proud of his work and I was touched - and taught.
When Taylor handed me his gift I had a dawning moment. Each of my children had used their strength and gifts in order to honor me. Taylor is a tech guy. He isn't particularly artistic, but he can do computers - and write his name in cursive.
Jack is our resident artist. He spend hours perfecting his craft. Even as a young child he was a perfectionist when it came to expressing himself. It is what he is best at doing.
Cal on the other hand...he isn't particularly artistic and at four has limited computer ability. What he does have is an uncanny power over people. It is no surprise to me to recieve a gift that someone else produced. I picture his preschool staff burning the midnight oil to make sure that Mr. Calvin's project was done by the deadline and up to his standards (which as of now included gluing a dump truck to the lid). I wouldn't be surprised if my life is a series of gifts produced by assistants.
What I discovered is that each of these gifts meant the world to me because it represented the best of each of them. As a Father, I celebrate who they are far above anything that I might "like".
I think God feels this way. He is a Father after all. We work so hard to try to offer God all of the "churchy" things because we think those are the only gifts He wants. Truth is, I think He wants us to use our gifts to the best of our ability. When we act in who we were created to be - we honor Him.
Ministry to people means that we help them discover their unique gifts and then introduce them to a Father who celebrates the use of their uniqueness. He doesn't need another preacher or more songs (unless of course that is who you are). He needs you to be you.
The world is waiting for what you have - and maybe He is as well.
Each child lined up to present the gifts they had for me. My kids are still young, so gifts are all made at school. A very stressed out Jack was first. He was working hard to hold his gift together since he had wrapped it with a giant piece of construction paper and had overlooked the use of tape. I was grateful of this gap in his process as the paper was an elaborate art project on it's own. One side had Jack and I walking through a field holding hands. I'm tall and thin with an abnormally large head (Jack is a realist) and he with his orange hair. The other side was a detailed battle between the world's greatest superheroes and some unnamed baddies. He knows what I like.
I have failed to mention the gift. A highly decorated Frisbee that followed the immediate request of a "Frisbee appointment" later that evening. I was happy to oblige.
Calvin was next. He had a flawlessly wrapped gift. It was a small, red, cube-shaped package that had Father's Day wishes written in printing that shouted "I was done by the teacher!". Offering the traditional "Cal, what did you get me?" his reply was an excited "I don't know, I can't remember!" It seemed that me opening this gift was filled with anticipation for both of us!
As I opened his gift he saw the blue sparkly paint of the little box and laughed excitedly "I remember! It's a box" and re-presented the expertly painted, assembled, and again printed box to me with great pride. It was obvious that he might have picked up a paint brush during the creation of this gift - but little more. He was thrilled.
Taylor's gift was still coming. Emerging from the basement (where my printer resides) I was presented with a certificate. It seems that I am a #1 Dad (sorry to all of you who thought you were in the running). It was designed and printed by him and signed - in cursive! He was proud of his work and I was touched - and taught.
When Taylor handed me his gift I had a dawning moment. Each of my children had used their strength and gifts in order to honor me. Taylor is a tech guy. He isn't particularly artistic, but he can do computers - and write his name in cursive.
Jack is our resident artist. He spend hours perfecting his craft. Even as a young child he was a perfectionist when it came to expressing himself. It is what he is best at doing.
Cal on the other hand...he isn't particularly artistic and at four has limited computer ability. What he does have is an uncanny power over people. It is no surprise to me to recieve a gift that someone else produced. I picture his preschool staff burning the midnight oil to make sure that Mr. Calvin's project was done by the deadline and up to his standards (which as of now included gluing a dump truck to the lid). I wouldn't be surprised if my life is a series of gifts produced by assistants.
What I discovered is that each of these gifts meant the world to me because it represented the best of each of them. As a Father, I celebrate who they are far above anything that I might "like".
I think God feels this way. He is a Father after all. We work so hard to try to offer God all of the "churchy" things because we think those are the only gifts He wants. Truth is, I think He wants us to use our gifts to the best of our ability. When we act in who we were created to be - we honor Him.
Ministry to people means that we help them discover their unique gifts and then introduce them to a Father who celebrates the use of their uniqueness. He doesn't need another preacher or more songs (unless of course that is who you are). He needs you to be you.
The world is waiting for what you have - and maybe He is as well.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Jesus and the Infinate Sadness
So, this might not have much to do with youth ministry, per se, but it has been my reality in the past couple of weeks. I've given it the title "The Infinite Sadness" with apologies to Smashing Pumpkins. See, the world I grew up in is all falling apart and there is nothing I can do about it.
Truth is, it was falling apart my entire life. It's funny how the way we live is - no matter how broken - simply normal. My family's obsession with themselves has caused small fissures to become scars the size of the grand canyon. In the last few months I have been watching the tragedy of human choice some to the natural consequence - that of total isolation and death.
So, why do I tell you all of this? Please know that it's not to excuse my absence over the last couple of weeks. It's to remind us of our calling. We are agents of healing in a world that we made. Human pain comes from our attempt to control our world. Whether we are the predator or the victim, mankind is on an insatiable quest to fill out the image of God that is stamped on our soul. It is the condition of all of us. I fear what I cannot control so I refuse to trust God and His infinite love. My choice to drive my live ALWAYS ends in isolation and death. It's not "judgment" in the way we think of it, it's just the natural consequence of not living in love - the way we were designed.
The kids we serve - and every adult that surrounds them - are in this cycle of fear. Each has their own "Infinite Sadness" that they hide with clothes, sex, substance abuse, violence, technology, or whatever they put between their fragile heart and other fragile hearts.
Fear drives people to do horrible things that have become so pervasive that we have accepted it as normal. Watch 30 minutes of BET or MTV through the lens of the deep love of God. People are being abused 24 hours a day. Men think that their role in life is to be tough and to have as much sex as possible. Sexuality and violence are infecting themselves in the lives of our young women who advertise their sexual availability and call it being "strong". This generation celebrated Beyonce for her strength in a song that proclaimed she was getting rid of one loser man to get another who will "be here in a minute".
Even our "church kids" think that following God simply means doing good in school. God forgive us.
Sin isn't really a religious word. In fact, we have made all of the Bible words religious by taking them out of real life. Sin is an archery term that simply means "you missed". Kids are aiming at life and miss. Kids want life and love. They want to be whole. I want to be whole. Without turning the entirety of our being over to God to become enraptured by the Spirit they (we) will continue to miss.
This is what I suggest. Ask God this week to wipe the scales from your eyes. Ask Him to wipe away your perceptions of what is normal and let your soul see with His love. Allow yourself to really look at what is happening to ourselves and our kids through our choices. Not with the eyes of judgment, but with the brokenness of compassion.
I invite you to write your insights here. We must understand what is broken if we are to be agents of healing.
May God give us His heart as we journey into honesty.
Truth is, it was falling apart my entire life. It's funny how the way we live is - no matter how broken - simply normal. My family's obsession with themselves has caused small fissures to become scars the size of the grand canyon. In the last few months I have been watching the tragedy of human choice some to the natural consequence - that of total isolation and death.
So, why do I tell you all of this? Please know that it's not to excuse my absence over the last couple of weeks. It's to remind us of our calling. We are agents of healing in a world that we made. Human pain comes from our attempt to control our world. Whether we are the predator or the victim, mankind is on an insatiable quest to fill out the image of God that is stamped on our soul. It is the condition of all of us. I fear what I cannot control so I refuse to trust God and His infinite love. My choice to drive my live ALWAYS ends in isolation and death. It's not "judgment" in the way we think of it, it's just the natural consequence of not living in love - the way we were designed.
The kids we serve - and every adult that surrounds them - are in this cycle of fear. Each has their own "Infinite Sadness" that they hide with clothes, sex, substance abuse, violence, technology, or whatever they put between their fragile heart and other fragile hearts.
Fear drives people to do horrible things that have become so pervasive that we have accepted it as normal. Watch 30 minutes of BET or MTV through the lens of the deep love of God. People are being abused 24 hours a day. Men think that their role in life is to be tough and to have as much sex as possible. Sexuality and violence are infecting themselves in the lives of our young women who advertise their sexual availability and call it being "strong". This generation celebrated Beyonce for her strength in a song that proclaimed she was getting rid of one loser man to get another who will "be here in a minute".
Even our "church kids" think that following God simply means doing good in school. God forgive us.
Sin isn't really a religious word. In fact, we have made all of the Bible words religious by taking them out of real life. Sin is an archery term that simply means "you missed". Kids are aiming at life and miss. Kids want life and love. They want to be whole. I want to be whole. Without turning the entirety of our being over to God to become enraptured by the Spirit they (we) will continue to miss.
This is what I suggest. Ask God this week to wipe the scales from your eyes. Ask Him to wipe away your perceptions of what is normal and let your soul see with His love. Allow yourself to really look at what is happening to ourselves and our kids through our choices. Not with the eyes of judgment, but with the brokenness of compassion.
I invite you to write your insights here. We must understand what is broken if we are to be agents of healing.
May God give us His heart as we journey into honesty.
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