In a recent post (below or on my Posterous), I mentioned some new directions coming out of the Cincinnati NYWC. The first involves an effort to refocus the purpose and look of this blog. I will be switching it over to a private blog on Friday morning while I make the changes. For most people, that really doesn’t matter. What will matter is that most, if not all of the content on the blog will be disappearing while the blog is down. I suspect no one will miss much, but if you did happen upon a lesson or something that you might want to save you may want to copy it now.
When the blog returns about a week or so after that, it will be totally focused on 33|6|8 and what it means to live it …
I have no idea where to begin. Be warned. This post isn’t just about the National Youth Workers Convention. It’s about a long journey that has been largely private until now. I offer the story now because I have finally found peace in the new directions I am taking. We learn from each other’s stories so maybe someone can learn from mine. I am also, as Donald Miller would say, preparing to write a better story with my life as God has created me so why not share it from the beginning?
I’ve attended the National Youth Workers Convention four times now, dating back to 2002. Each one has taken on a different flavor, attitude and inspiration. For the first one, I was a relatively new youth worker. NYWC was an overwhelming revelation. Overwhelming in the sheer breadth of information, ideas, conversation and -yes – commerical messages I encountered over the course of a long weekend. Overwhelming in the realization that there were other people out there who didn’t cringe at the thought of hanging out with teenagers. Overwhelming in hearing Mike Yaconelli reassure us that there was no such thing as “just a volunteer.”
In 2005, the theme was jump. I remember with amazing clarity a moment in the general session when Tic Long led us in prayer, saying that maybe God was calling us to jump into something or maybe God was calling us out of something.
That was the first inkling that God was calling me out of youth ministry.
That couldn’t be. I protested. I argued with God. I’ve worked hard to build the ministry and you want me to leave? Subsequent positive changes in my ministry context that made me think that first inkling was way off base — a result of a long schedule and a dangerous lack of sleep. There’s no way God could be calling me out of youth ministry.
Then came 2008 and the ’seriously ridiculous’ theme. By this time, I had been a few months into my first non-volunteer (read: salaried) position as a part-time director of youth and family ministries. What was seriously ridiculous was that I again came away unsettled. It’s hard now to describe it. I was still energized and excited by my new position but still there was this nudging to something different, something more. I once heard the phrase divine discontent to describe that time when God was making you unsettled to the point that you would be propelled into the next phase of ministry. That was me then.
After quite a bit of struggle, I acknowledged that my ministry of 14 years was not my identity. I had been clinging to what I knew in ministry instead of what might be. By the time the 2009 convention rolled around. I had already stepped down from my position after only a year and was exploring what God’s next steps were. A surprise invitation found me in Cincinnati, wondering why exactly I was there, what it could possibly have to offer me and what I could possibly have to offer the youth ministry community since I was heading for the exit.
The shape of the following days revealed an answer. Friday’s Big Rooms and the lab I attended reminded me of who I was as a child of God, that change doesn’t come without pain and that the basis for all of this has to be rooted in Christ alone. From the prayer walk in the morning to the sounds of the Daraja Childrens’ Choir at night, Saturday was about mission and justice. Sunday’s recurring theme revolved around creativity and taking chances. By Monday, the question that remained on my mind was: What are you going to do?
And now, here we are post-convention 2009.
Creativity, missions, justice and mentorship — the four themes that wound their way through that convention have given way to a new determination not to waste what God has given me. In the coming weeks, I plan to make changes to my blog site (not this Posterous) to reflect those changes. I will be mentoring a student as she helps organize a mission trip for her high school graduation project. Longer term, there will be more mission trips and service projects in my community — a community that includes all ages in the church but will inevitably engage the youth.
Maybe I haven’t left youth ministry after all …
Tim Hortons.
Beautiful sunrise.
Breakfast with family.
Hit the road.
Gas is cheaper here than home!
Gas is cheaper at this exit than the last one.
Grr.
Three lanes? There’s nothing but farms.
Cincinnati.
Next exit.
Elm Street. Elm Street. Right on Elm Street.
Parking garage.
$8 per day? Rock on. Cheapest listed online was $10!
Please, desk lady, let me in my room.
Shower.
Shower.
Clean.
But not clean.
More on that later.
Meet a Twitter friend.
Meet my crew.
Can these chairs be any narrower?
Reggie Joiner has a Mac Plus.
And an Mac Air.
Check your systems.
Make the changes.
Hold onto what is core.
Let go of what is cultural.
Look at all these Youth Workers under 30!
Pray for them.
Van Halen?
Where is room 200?
Chap Clark = theology & wisecracks
“Every adult is a 6th grader lost, looking for his locker.”
Tweet-Up!
Exhibit Hall.
Why, yes, I will give you my e-mail and be registered for a Martin guitar.
Name that Tune…kinda
Rudy plays the saxophone … very well.
Worship.
Photos.
Tony Campolo.
Oh.
My.
Deep.
The eternal now.
God can make straight lines with crooked sticks.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Always.
Calling.
Asking.
Absorbing.
Cleansing.
Endlessly.
Grace.
Abounds.
Life.
To.
The.
Full.
Jesus, Messiah.
A Spirit in the room.
Prayer.
Silence.
Hotel.
Only free wifi is in the lobby.
Guess where we are.
Talking.
Writing.
Editing photos.
This is my community.
This is my tribe.
Christy Nockels, formerly of Watermark, released the solo effort, Life Light Up, earlier this year to primarily positive reviews. Reading through several of them, I noticed many focused on her powerful, gorgeous voice. Her voice is all that … and more … but don’t forget to pay attention to the lyrics that are full of praise in one moment, praying for purpose in the next.
Here’s a sampling:
I may live and I may die
Either way You’re glorified
— Life Light Up
No greater call – You gave us all a reason to live
No greater love – You gave us all a reason to give
No greater life – You gave us all a reason to shine
No greater love – forever mine!
— No Not One
The fallen back on their feet
The fatherless now complete…
The innocent suffering, rising from wounding, to find…You were there all along!
— Song of the Beautiful
The time is now
Come Church arise…
Love with His hands
See with His eyes…
Bind it around you,
Let it never leave you,
And they will know us by our love…
— By Our Love
Personally, I would like to see a few more of the tracks from Life Light Up be released as performance accompaniment tracks. I can think of girls in the youth group (and fairly recent grads … you know who you are!) who would do an amazing job bringing some of these songs to the congregation as special music.
In the meantime, listen to the album here. You may have to sign up for a free account first. If you like what you hear, you can buy it from Lala or head over to Amazon where it is on sale through the month of October for only $5.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
— Henry David Thoreau, Walden (1854)
For some reason, this quote from Thoreau kept whirling through my mind as I read Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. Please understand I am not putting Miller on the same level as Thoreau. That’s a judgment reserved for 155 years from now if people have random quotes from Miller’s writing popping up in their heads. I do, however, believe that Miller may have hit closer to the mark of reality in his description of the life of the average Jane like me. With apologies to Thoreau, desperation has an aura of action that most of us never take. We’re creatures of inaction, choosing the comfortable and familiar over the difficult and uncertain.
Donald Miller was handed the golden ticket out of a life of indifferent comfort when he was given the opportunity to turn his bestselling memoir, Blue Like Jazz, into a movie. Thanks to his realization, we are granted insight not just into how Don went from clicking through television channels to clicking off the miles on a cross-country bike ride but also how the elements of story can play out in our lives.
Scene after scene introduces the reader to memorable people who, knowingly or not, have chosen to live an interesting story. They’re people you want to meet. They’re people you half-believe you already know because of the way Don talks about his encounter with them. Miller’s cinematic descriptions make it almost too easy for the reader to be right there with him, whether he’s riding a kayak pulled by a pick-up on a snow-covered street or catching his first breathtaking glimpse of Macchu Pichu.
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years reads how your best friend would sound if you were at the local coffee shop, reliving years of shared memories. It’s open without drifting into “TMI” territory; it’s heart-wrenching without being sappy and it’s eye-opening without being preachy.
Simply put, it’s a good story.
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#MusicMonday 1: Come O Spirit! Anthology Of Hymns And Spiritual Songs Volume 1 by Bifrost Arts
For my non-Twittering friends, MusicMonday is a Twitter meme in which you recommend music to your followers. I never really did much with it in the past because I was too darn lazy to get anything together.
Not anymore. I’ve always been a bit of a music explorer so it’s only natural that I share some of it with whoever stumbles upon my various social networking sites. Thanks to Lala, you can listen to my recommendations using the embedded player. You will have to sign up for a free account to do so (click here to set up your account), but I’ve been using Lala for a couple of days now and it’s a really cool service that allows you to listen to albums once in their entirety for FREE. You can buy a “web-only” version of the song for the princely sum of 10¢. Should you later want to buy an mp3 of the song, that 10¢ is credited toward the purchase price. It’s altogether a cool deal.
Anyway, enough with the introductory material. On to the music …
There’s no better introduction to BiFrost Arts than the first line of the bio on its MySpace page: “Bifrost Arts is a sacred music non-profit that exists to enrich the church and engage the world with beauty and truth.” The collective features a wide range of artists including Dave Bazan, Damien Jurado, Rosie Thomas, Denison Witmer, The Welcome Wagon (featuring Sufjan Stevens) and Leigh Nash. The result is a haunting, prayerful reflection of art and faith.
Note: WordPress.com doesn’t allow the player to be embedded, so just click here: Come O Spirit! Anthology Of Hymns And Spiritual Songs Volume 1 by Bifrost Arts
“Everybody thinks that it’s a simple thing and everybody has the answers. This is not. What we’re going through as a nation; it is not simple. It is we are reaping what we have sown, not for a presidency and not for the eight years previous to that, but for years and years and years. We’re arriving at the destination we have been traveling to for many years. So, to blame a person is ridiculous, to blame an administration is ridiculous, to blame a Congress is ridiculous. That’s such simplistic thinking, which is, typically, you know, every generation does that. But, we’re where we are because this is where we’ve been headed. So here we are. And so, there is no solution in the sense of a fix. There are different destinations and there different paths we have to take to get to where we need to be and it’ll take a long time. But people would rather blame, point fingers and go crazy over all the craziness.”
— Andy Stanley, Catalyst Podcast, Episode 80.To set the scene, it is a gloriously beautiful late summer/early fall day. I’m at a state park with hiking trails ranging from basically a sidewalk in the woods to tough, rocky, sloping terrain. In theory, I would hike a portion of the Appalachian Trail to a connecting trail that features what I am told is an amazing overlook. I’ve never actually been on that trail, but it’s one of the most popular at the park so I thought it would be a gorgeous way to end a lovely weekend.
Sometimes theories just don’t work out in practice. Part one of the plan went well. This particular section of the AT gained some elevation, but didn’t have the rocks that make the Pennsylvania portion of the trail notorious for ankle-twisting and knee-popping. At opening of the connecting trail, I was confronted with a choice as there was a bit of a fork at the trail’s head. I saw a blue blaze halfway up a tree not 10 yards from where I was standing. I took that fork. Uh-oh. I knew the trail was supposed to be rocky near the top. Plenty of people had told me that much over the years. Having a greater than average fear of falling, my eyes were glued to my boots and the rocky path. At first, I thought to look up every couple of yards to find a blue blaze to reassure me that I was on the right path, but, as the path became rockier and the rocks looser, I forgot to look up. It was a long time before I looked up again. I reached a point where there were fewer rocks, looked around for a blaze and saw nothing.The rather large tree down across the path did not escape my notice. I thought it odd that park officials wouldn’t have done something about it given the popularity of this trail, yet I continued on despite the lack of painted, dollar-bill sized rectangles on any tree within striking distance. I hadn’t noticed any trail branching off from the one that I was cautiously descending so surely I couldn’t be too far off. Descending, however, is the key word. Standing triumphant of the other side of a second down tree, it occurred to me that the promised overlook was awfully far down the mountain. Suddenly, I realized there was more mountain above me than below me. I also recalled I had not seen a blue blaze in a significant amount of time. Deciding that I had certainly wandered far from the intended path, I continued on my descent, anticipating that the increasing wetness of the trail indicated that it would eventually lead to the streams that surround the two park’s two lakes. I was correct, but, oh what a journey! I slopped through water. I climbed over at least two more trees. I crawled through the mud to get past another. I don’t even want to think about what sorts of reptiles and insects were on the trail with me. Finally, a house. And a driveway. Driveways lead to roads. If I could get to the main road, I could easily figure out which way to go since the sun was now at a noticeably lower angle than when I began my accidental journey. I found the main road, but this mystery trail I had muddled through dumped me off at the exact opposite end of the park from where I parked the car and a good three-quarters of a mile or more from where I had intended to return to the paved road. I wish I could say this was a random occurrence. Rest assured, I don’t make a habit of getting lost on mountain trails, but I do forget to look up. There are times — more than I would probably admit — that my gaze is fixed firmly on what directly affects me. My goal is to get things done. I need to keep up on the news. I have to know what albums are coming out this week. Then, there’s work. There’s always work. And I forget to look up. I forget to pray. I forget to read the Bible. My mind races through my to-do list instead of focusing on the message at church. I give up opportunities to get together with other believers. I forget to look to the blazing light of Jesus. Inevitably, I get to the point that I realize I can’t do it myself. I end up muddy, scratched and aching far from the path God has prepared for me. When I finally do look up, I see Jesus. But he’s not a blazing light. He’s scratched and muddy from traveling with me. He’s aching to bring me back to where I belong. It’s then that I realize how far off the path I’ve been and how faithful he has been. It’s then that I reach out — muddy, scratched and aching — to begin the long walk back to what God has prepared for me. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. – Proverbs 3:5-6 (ESV)When I dragged myself out of bed this morning after a late night of jazz and college visiting, I had no idea how swiftly God would work to shape the next six to eight months.
~ I had a conference call with fellow writers for The Seed Company. It reminded me how excited I am for our retreat next month and resulted in a total God-thing related to the next point below. I don’t want to get into details yet, but it is too cool. ~ I randomly (to me, not to God) checked the recently posted office calendar on which all the vacations are listed. To my surprise, a co-worker’s week off in January had moved up a week, making it possible for me to be off January 2-5. So, pending the finalization of some details, I may just be able to volunteer at Passion 2010 after all. I had been so disappointed when the dates were announced and it looked out of reach. Another case of God’s timing not being my timing! ~ I found the church will support the Help-Portrait project. I had mentioned it to a friend at my home church. He brought it to council and it’s game on! ~ I learned when my third trip to Mississippi to assist with Katrina relief will happen. I’m more handy with a camera than a hammer, but the team always seems to appreciate it. Even though a couple bummer kind of things happened, they are nothing compared to getting a glimpse of how God is going to use me in the next few months. Please pray that all the planning and details will come together for the glory of God!
