September 20.
11:00am.
Pleasant Valley Reformed Church.
The date, time, and place. A big moment for me. I have felt many convictions regarding Christ's Church for many years.
It was right here. In this very spot. On the couch in my basement apartment at my parent's home. I was probably on HSA, checking out people's profiles or responding to a message. My dad walked down the stairs (his footfalls against the carpeted steps acting like the peek hole through a door, into which announces the presence of the person approaching) and asked to come into my room. His words would change my thoughts for the evening -- and my thoughts for the looming days ahead. He began: "People are getting excited." I was confused. What people? And why are they excited? Did gas prices come down again today? That would be exciting, indeed! He continued, "I sort of mentioned to a couple people your thoughts about youth group and church and they are getting really excited. They want to hear your thoughts directly. They have asked to have you come speak with them about this idea." Ummmm... errrrr... *cheesy grin.* I couldn't help but smile. I tried not to. This was all happening so very fast. Maybe too fast, but that has yet to be determined.
What my father was referring to, was a conversation he, my mother, and I had had the night before. They had asked if I would be willing to help with the youth group at his church. I hesitated with that. I had my face kicked in at the last church I served at in youth ministry. Undoubtedly, I have grown timid of the idea of returning to such position. And there remained something else... something I couldn't quite squeeze from between my lips. I wanted to say what I was thinking but felt scared. An emotion I have come to know all too well as of late. See, my time at Trinity Reformed Church last year was a time of trials mixed with triumphs. I have never been so pushed in all my life. Many questions developed over the 15-months in my white brick, book-filled office. What is this all about? Are we being effective? Page upon page worth of questions.
When my father confronted me with the question of helping with the youth group, many memories came rushing back into my head. All the questions returned. All the evening walks around Holland -- wandering alone, walking hand-in-hand with my thoughts -- flashed like lighting somewhere deep in my mind. Oh Lord, would I have it in me again? Do I have the passion for just one age group of church goers? That nagging "something" that I spoke of earlier began to rise to the surface. "I... uh... don't know that I can do that anymore. I don't know what to say to them anymore." This was the best that I could mutter. I knew there was more. After a moment of silence, I proceeded to wring from my soul what I was feeling. "I don't know that I agree with separating youth from the rest of the church. I think there is more we can do." There, I said it. And I meant it. I felt a bit embarrassed doing so. My dad has been so elated about a youth ministry at the small, country church. I was worried I would look up from the ground and see him holding a hand over his chest, and see a grimaced look on his bearded face from the gun shot wound I had just inflicted. But alas, no gun shot rang out. Instead, there was an intrigued look on both my parent's faces. So I continued. "I believe that ministry -- life in Christ is what I really mean by that word -- could better happen across the ages. Grandparents, parents, twentysomethings, teens, and children all engaged in a time of God-centered, heartfelt worship. Worship in the form of relating, of struggling, of honesty. Grandparents sharing their wisdom from years of trials and joys. Parents sitting down with their children and relating personally the realness of God in their lives. Children engaged in listening to the God-stories, soaking up the realness of God and active members in the life in Christ. No separation. No sunday school teachers or youth pastors relaying the message which should come from their parents and families." (That is a paraphrase of all I spoke.) There is yet more to my thoughts, but that best describes the main point of the discussion.
Next always in this discussion, comes the questions. People have questions for this idea. We have operated as a church for so many generations with one way of thinking: The church is responsible for the spiritual health of my family and will speak the utterances of God directly to each in the safety of their peer group. We'll call it sunday school because we're educating our kids in the way of God. We will search high and low for the most hip, current teaching curriculum and let that be our guide for our kids understanding of God. We'll prod them to attend youth group each week because they will come back on fire for God (that youth pastor dude seems so in touch with those kids and only he can truly teach them about who God is in their life). But I believe this has been a sad mistake on the part of the church. People are so incredibly disconnected from a life lived with other believers in Christ! We have shot ourselves in the chest. Despite all my "shooting" talk, I really am not a violent person. Families are falling apart. And God is no longer glorified. The latter must be the bigger sadness. We are not living in a right understanding of who God is. We do not seem interested in drawing each breath from Him. For many, their "walk with Christ" is limited to a Sunday morning service from either a bare-wood pew or a padded chair.
And so... the lingering question illuminating from my soul the past few years has been this: What if there could be more? More to the God we serve? More to our life in His Spirit? More to our life with other believers?
What if?
For right now, I will leave you with that question.
And the importance of September 20? It will be my first opportunity to share these thoughts with a group of people. Please pray I am able to speak clearly and passionately.
11:00am.
Pleasant Valley Reformed Church.
The date, time, and place. A big moment for me. I have felt many convictions regarding Christ's Church for many years.
It was right here. In this very spot. On the couch in my basement apartment at my parent's home. I was probably on HSA, checking out people's profiles or responding to a message. My dad walked down the stairs (his footfalls against the carpeted steps acting like the peek hole through a door, into which announces the presence of the person approaching) and asked to come into my room. His words would change my thoughts for the evening -- and my thoughts for the looming days ahead. He began: "People are getting excited." I was confused. What people? And why are they excited? Did gas prices come down again today? That would be exciting, indeed! He continued, "I sort of mentioned to a couple people your thoughts about youth group and church and they are getting really excited. They want to hear your thoughts directly. They have asked to have you come speak with them about this idea." Ummmm... errrrr... *cheesy grin.* I couldn't help but smile. I tried not to. This was all happening so very fast. Maybe too fast, but that has yet to be determined.
What my father was referring to, was a conversation he, my mother, and I had had the night before. They had asked if I would be willing to help with the youth group at his church. I hesitated with that. I had my face kicked in at the last church I served at in youth ministry. Undoubtedly, I have grown timid of the idea of returning to such position. And there remained something else... something I couldn't quite squeeze from between my lips. I wanted to say what I was thinking but felt scared. An emotion I have come to know all too well as of late. See, my time at Trinity Reformed Church last year was a time of trials mixed with triumphs. I have never been so pushed in all my life. Many questions developed over the 15-months in my white brick, book-filled office. What is this all about? Are we being effective? Page upon page worth of questions.
When my father confronted me with the question of helping with the youth group, many memories came rushing back into my head. All the questions returned. All the evening walks around Holland -- wandering alone, walking hand-in-hand with my thoughts -- flashed like lighting somewhere deep in my mind. Oh Lord, would I have it in me again? Do I have the passion for just one age group of church goers? That nagging "something" that I spoke of earlier began to rise to the surface. "I... uh... don't know that I can do that anymore. I don't know what to say to them anymore." This was the best that I could mutter. I knew there was more. After a moment of silence, I proceeded to wring from my soul what I was feeling. "I don't know that I agree with separating youth from the rest of the church. I think there is more we can do." There, I said it. And I meant it. I felt a bit embarrassed doing so. My dad has been so elated about a youth ministry at the small, country church. I was worried I would look up from the ground and see him holding a hand over his chest, and see a grimaced look on his bearded face from the gun shot wound I had just inflicted. But alas, no gun shot rang out. Instead, there was an intrigued look on both my parent's faces. So I continued. "I believe that ministry -- life in Christ is what I really mean by that word -- could better happen across the ages. Grandparents, parents, twentysomethings, teens, and children all engaged in a time of God-centered, heartfelt worship. Worship in the form of relating, of struggling, of honesty. Grandparents sharing their wisdom from years of trials and joys. Parents sitting down with their children and relating personally the realness of God in their lives. Children engaged in listening to the God-stories, soaking up the realness of God and active members in the life in Christ. No separation. No sunday school teachers or youth pastors relaying the message which should come from their parents and families." (That is a paraphrase of all I spoke.) There is yet more to my thoughts, but that best describes the main point of the discussion.
Next always in this discussion, comes the questions. People have questions for this idea. We have operated as a church for so many generations with one way of thinking: The church is responsible for the spiritual health of my family and will speak the utterances of God directly to each in the safety of their peer group. We'll call it sunday school because we're educating our kids in the way of God. We will search high and low for the most hip, current teaching curriculum and let that be our guide for our kids understanding of God. We'll prod them to attend youth group each week because they will come back on fire for God (that youth pastor dude seems so in touch with those kids and only he can truly teach them about who God is in their life). But I believe this has been a sad mistake on the part of the church. People are so incredibly disconnected from a life lived with other believers in Christ! We have shot ourselves in the chest. Despite all my "shooting" talk, I really am not a violent person. Families are falling apart. And God is no longer glorified. The latter must be the bigger sadness. We are not living in a right understanding of who God is. We do not seem interested in drawing each breath from Him. For many, their "walk with Christ" is limited to a Sunday morning service from either a bare-wood pew or a padded chair.
And so... the lingering question illuminating from my soul the past few years has been this: What if there could be more? More to the God we serve? More to our life in His Spirit? More to our life with other believers?
What if?
For right now, I will leave you with that question.
And the importance of September 20? It will be my first opportunity to share these thoughts with a group of people. Please pray I am able to speak clearly and passionately.
