Fears

Spending lots of time with middle and high school girls has given me lots of time to ponder their lives.  What will become of them?  Will they drop off the face of the earth next week?  Will they start a Bible study at their school?  How long will they get distracted by this boy?

I should also note that I'm a worst-case scenario kind of girl.  In my brain, if I can figure out how to handle the worst thing that could happen, then I will be able to handle anything in-between here and there.  This lends itself to some pretty depressing outcomes when I consider 'my girls'.

That worst-case scenario?  Not that they would dress trashy.  Not that they would get pregnant.  Not that they would get their heart broken.

One of my biggest fears for my girls is that they would grow up and lead silly, frivolous lives devoid of eternal meaning but full of comfort, all the while thinking they are serving Jesus.

Let's unpack that, shall we?

'silly, frivolous lives' - I fear that the most important thing to happen to them in a day would be a change to the Starbucks menu.  I fear that they would worry more about their hair than their heart.  I fear that they would only put enough effort into relationships to ensure that others like them.

'devoid of eternal meaning' - I fear that they would care not to participate in Kingdom work.  I fear that they would live in a perpetual state of YOLO, careless of the consequences or worth of their actions.  I fear they'd miss out on the holy eternity that is happening in every moment.

'full of comfort' - I fear they will never know the name and story of someone struggling with poverty.  I fear they would only pray for safe travel and good weather.  I fear they would never know what it is to depend on God for their needs.

'all the while thinking they are serving Jesus' - Ah, this is the deepest fear of them all.  The rest of it isn't quite so lethal without being combined with this lie.  I fear that they will live their lives for themselves and call themselves Christians.  I fear they will miss it - miss this radical grace that has turned the world on its head.  I fear they will not fear eternity as they should.  That they would not look upon their Creator with awe.

The rest of life's messes at least bring us to our knees, searching for hope.  What if my girls grow up and think they don't need the hope that Jesus offers?

This is why I am in youth ministry.

JB

Of Cooks and Kitchens

When I would come home from school and complain about group projects, my mom would inevitably say something along the lines of "Sometimes there are just too many cooks in the kitchen."  It didn't help my group-project woes at all, but she meant well.

I'm going through a little of that now.  See, our church is extremely blessed with a hardworking admin team, a communications person and a youth team that can, most days, schedule events far enough in advance to keep the admin team and communications person happy.  And our Family Ministry admin girl is freaking awesome.  She gets ministry AND can kick Excel in the teeth.

But we didn't used to have an admin girl or a church communications person.  So most of the burden of communicating, advertising and keeping everyone up to date on student stuff fell on us.  (Specifically the women on the team, but that really is more about gifting than gender stereotypes...most days)  As the student ministry staff has changed over the years, I've gradually taken over most of the admin tasks - small group rosters, mailings, parent newsletter, thank-you notes, website info, etc.  And now our Excel-kicking admin girl is more than capable and willing to help/take off my plate entirely a lot of those tasks.

**Sidenote: those of you who would give your big toe for a great admin girl are free to shake your fist at me.

So why am I frustrated about cooks being in the kitchen?

I'm frustrated because I now need to explain my entire m.o. to 5 different people.  And maybe it's because it's embarrassing that they can do those tasks better in half the time.  Perhaps, it's partly because sometimes there are details that get missed and I have to make amends.  Or maybe I just like being in control of everything.  And I definitely hate that it means adding another meeting to my week.

So, in a word, it's selfish.  And that's hard to admit.

So one of my goals for this month is to work better with our admin team and slowly kill the desire I have to kick them in the teeth when the work isn't done the way I think it should be done.  Doesn't sound very lofty or inspiring does it?  Sorry, folks.  This is the mess of working with people, of your co-workers being co-laborers for Christ.  People who have been saved, even when they are employed by a church, are just people.  Messy, frustrating, beautiful people.  And I'm one of them.

JB

Nothing Better

Do you ever have one of those moments you want to capture perfectly because you know that your remembering of it will pale in comparison to the actual event?

Last week, I had the honor of getting to be a part of one of those holy moments.  Truth was shared, tears were cried, and fervent prayer had it's place.  I couldn't believe, even as the conversation was happening, that God would let me participate in His work in this way.  A teenager who just found out that his dad was moving to the area was looking for a place to learn about God.  So I told him about our youth programs and encouraged him to come check out the church.  Then he began to share his story.  He'd never known what the cross meant, why people would believe in God or even be interested in Jesus.  But God was working in him and Andrew, without knowing why, googled 'churches in Pittsburgh' and picked up the phone.

Why would God trust me to explain the cross to this teenager?  Does He not know my track record for screwing things up?  Perhaps I should re-submit my resume or schedule a review.  I'm a verbal train wreck of tactless, blunt and oblivious with some onomatopoeia thrown in there for fun.  This is why I work well with middle schoolers - they understand me when I talk in noises and they don't have much tact either.

Isn't it beautiful to be a part of "But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong." (1 Cor 1:27)?  That's why God uses folks with my track record of word vomit to teach this broken world about Himself.  The God of the Universe chooses the weak, the screwups, the word vomiters to be a part of His family and do His work.

So pray for Andrew, and know that God is in the business of using us in our imperfections.

What I Want in Life

Right now,  I want a few things, most of which I will never receive.  But hey, why not ask?

I want someone else to come up with roommate assignments for summer camp next week that will cause no drama.

I want to sleep for 12 hours straight.  Starting about now.

I want to stay hydrated and not have to pee every couple of hours.

I want it to not thunder and rain on our event tonight.

I want our database to magically update itself with student info.

Alas, none of these things are likely to happen (unless you have some insight into middle school girls and their rooming preferences), so I will go back to work.

After I take a quick nap.

~JB

Lessons I've Learned...

 

Things I've learned from middle school ministry:

• everyone is awkward, some people just show it a little more than others
• no one likes walking into a big room of people alone, even if you're 28
• there should always be snacks
• no one likes everything about themselves
• find joy in the crazy moments in life
• never underestimate the power of a good hug
• if one person is excited, most other people are excited
• it's actually really helpful to talk through consequences of decisions
• coffee is a wonderful, beautiful gift from the Lord above
• farting is still really funny
• 13-year-olds must always be nudged toward what is best for them, because they won't choose it on their own
• God equips you for the ministry He calls you to
• Twizzlers can make you friends
• flirting is an important way to develop social skills

 ~JB

"What do you do all day?"

Since I've been asked this question three times this week, I thought I'd let all of you inquiring minds know exactly how I occupy my hours.  So here's a regular day:

Oh wait, I forgot to mention that in youth ministry there is no such thing as a regular day.  

Instead, here are some of the tasks I accomplished last week:

• re-outlined the New Testament half of our Bible reading plan for students
• wrestled with balancing "we have restrictions on this for a reason", "yes, I know they are a core family and their kid needs to be connected" and "if you let any more students sign up to help at summer camp, you will cause chaos and will need to buy margaritas for all the adults that have to supervise them"
• took cookies to the local high school during lunchtime and encouraged students that Jesus still loves them even if they bomb their finals
• met with our middle school student leaders to plan our June outreach event
• planned our June young adult event
• input all of our summer camp middle school volunteers into the church database
• filmed a video with an 8th grader at the mall about how to not make friends (the amount of awkwardness was directly proportional to how funny it is)
• talked with our Director of Small Groups about how to get young women connected
• creeped on prom pictures via Facebook
• planned out a meeting for the upcoming 6th grade parents for this weekend
• wrote a note to a rather exceptional 7th grade girl 
• put off calling women I'm hoping to recruit for 6th grade small group leadership this fall
• learned how broken one of my 6th grade girls' family is

I really couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.  Up next week: actually calling those women, planning a sleepover for my 6th grade girls small group at my house and reaching out to our summer interns.

I freaking love my job!

JB

Einstein Was Wrong

You CAN create energy!  It's called coffee.  And prayer.  And an intense love for Jesus that flows into an intense love for His kids.  And more coffee, with some Twizzlers thrown in just for fun.

I'm headed out for 2 full days of middle school mayhem this weekend, and I'm actually pretty stoked about it!  If you ask me Sunday night at 11:30 when we're just getting back to the church, I may have a different opinion.  But for the record, I am excited to see what God is going to do this weekend in the hearts of 47 middle school students, 7 volunteer leaders and Joel & I. 

So, while I head to bed at an unreasonably early hour to try to store up some sleep ahead of time, you go ahead and pray.  For real.  Right now.  Pray for our leaders to build relationships that lead to spiritual growth, pray for vision and clarity in teaching for the CIY staff that are leading this weekend-o-middle-school-awesomness, pray for our students to experience the power of a God who has entered into this world in order to restore it to Himself.

Catch you on the flip side.  Or when I recover from my sugar-induced energetic state.

-JB

Fruit

Oh no, not the kind you eat.

The kind you labor for, sweat over, pray for, and sometimes never see.

But that elusive fruit?  I got a freaking basket today.

Let me explain a little.  Youth ministry can be hard, draining, frustrating and sometimes sad.  And then, just like that, you get a day when every late night, every conversation, every shaving cream pie in the face is worth it. 

Today, I watched 3 of my students get on the main stage at the church and share how their lives were touched by a recent trip to Haiti.  They explained their faith, their reason for hope, their vision of God's plan for their lives, better than most adults I know. 

We had a leader meeting for a weekend trip we're taking to CIY Believe next weekend (normally, I wouldn't promote a certain ministry, but these guys know what's up).  I was so encouraged by the heart of these leaders who are willing to give up their weekend for two solid days of life with 6th, 7th and 8th grade students.  And there aren't any empty seats on the bus.  And they are so excited - not because it's going to be a great conference, but because they believe that middle school students are worth it. 

One of those high school leaders I met when she was in 7th grade.  She was bubbly, loud, gossiped a ton and flirted way too much with the guys.  Today, she is a leader in our youth group, is doing her senior project on exploited women around the world and has had her heart broken for the world that she lives in. 

At our middle school service, I got pied in the face.  Ten times, to be exact.  And the girl who pied me (I told the girl leading the game to pick little scrawny kids who wouldn't break my nose) asked me if  we had lost the game, would I have been mad at her.  My heart broke.  This 7th grade girl has no clue of her value in this Kingdom.  She still thinks she needs to win to be liked. 

This fruit, it tastes so good.  It smells of eternity, and it's sweetness reminds me of the Father's love.  Lately, life has not been so sweet and it was so good to be reminded that the darkness will not last.  Eternity shines too bright to be hidden by the crap of this world.

~JB

Crisis...continued

First, read this story, because the rest will make a lot more sense if you do.

As crazy as last Friday was, it didn't stop there.  Friends had family situations, the needs of others popped up out of nowhere and Hubs had a 14 page annotated bibliography and a 4 page paper to write.  Oh, and I have tendonitis.  It was just one of those weeks.

When times like these come, I am continually reminded not of how busy my life is, or what a broken world we live in, but the power of God.

I know it may seem weird that in a time where all seems out of control, I am reminded of God's power.  Common sense would deem the opposite - to run around screaming "Where the crap are you?!" and shaking my fist at the sky.  I know well the feeling of searching for His presence in the midst of a crisis.  I know what it's like to wonder if you've been abandoned for someone with more prospects, more talent, or who looks better in skinny jeans.  Trust me, I've been around that block more times than you can count.

But this week, I've been consistently reminded that God has the power to heal, to repair, to redeem.  That gives me hope.  This world need not lay in wait for whatever pending disaster will strike next, because there is hope in God that, even if that disaster does come, that it will have a purpose, that we can use it to draw near to Him, and that we can see Him working in it all.  In addition to having hope, I am relieved of the burden of fixing all of these situations, of having to be the only source of comfort for these people.  I cannot fully explain how freeing it is to have finally acknowledged my not-enoughness.  I can take these burdens, sharing some of their weight from the other person, and put that weight squarely on the shoulders of the One who can bear it.  It's too heavy for me.  I am in no position to carry it, since I've got so much of my own junk weighing me down.  He has borne our sin, and as we share in His suffering, he bears that too.

I've long struggled with my not-enoughness.  One amazingly insightful woman once told me I had Miss Superhero Independent Syndrome and that those spandex I was trying to rock would become uncomfortable after a while, because I was never meant to fill that role (or wear spandex - ever).  I've wanted to be the answer for someone's problems because I thought it would give me purpose, would make me feel good about myself or would somehow let me earn a little of the grace God had given me.  Those were wrong, selfish and completely devoid of a true understanding of the gospel.  What I've begun to learn is that in embracing my not-enoughness, I am free from having to earn my place in the hears of others or of Christ.  By acknowledging that I can't, I am free to embrace the fact that I have, through the blood and life of Christ, been given these things.

Now, I'm only started on this journey, so if I do something really stupid next week, give me a break and remind me of God's grace that doesn't give up.  I'll do the same for you.

Crisis

Friday was one of those days.  One of those "when it rains it pours" days.

Firstly, it was our last morning of hosting our almost-2 and almost-3 year old niece and nephew at our house for a week.  The week had it's moments of doubt that we'll ever be able to handle our own kids, but in the end, the kids were clean, happy and didn't seem desperate to leave our house, so I'll call it a success.

Enter work.  (Does anyone else have the weird problem of not knowing whether to say 'I'm going to work' or 'I'm going to church'?  Is it just me?)  We had to change plans for a middle school event on Wednesday from snow tubing to Nerfmageddon at the church.  Yeah.  I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.  So, in the span of 3 days, we made a backup plan, made a graphic, communicated it to the church, ordered 50 Nerf guns from Amazon (thank you Jesus for 2 day shipping), and somehow managed to convince the facilities staff and the daddy-daughter dance going on in the lobby that there would be no casualties.

As we were opening the Nerf guns, we realized these things are packed better than most nuclear warheads.  So, I grab my big scissors and go to town.  Which worked great, except for the moment when I sliced my hand open and had to go get stitches.  It hurts, and the cut is on the webbing between my forefinger and thumb, which is super inconvenient, but on the whole it's not too bad. 

Then, as I'm on my way out the door to meet a new woman in our young adult ministry, the woman who assists our Community Care Pastor stops me and lets me know that one of my students has been taken to the hospital for suicide watch.  Scary.  Very scary.  So, I text her mom to find out what is going on and find out they'll be stuck in the evaluation/paperwork process for a while and there is nothing I can do.  So, I go to dinner and have a pretty good, if not distracted time.

Back to church/work and work on getting everything set up for our Nerfmageddon event.  It basically involved 40ish middle school students at war with each other in our gym.  I was actually really bummed that my stitches prevented me from wielding a weapon that night.  There were a few students I would have loved to peg.  (In a totally Jesus-loves-you kind of way, of course.)

So, there I am, bandaged hand and clipboard, checking in dozens of students while trying to not disturb the daddy-daughter dance and simultaneously convincing parents that though I can't be trusted with a pair of office scissors, their children will be in good hands.  Or hand.  Then I start counting and realize that the event was such a good idea that 20 students have signed up in the hours leading up to the event and we don't have enough Nerf guns.

Oh dear.

So, leaving Joel and a couple of volunteers to handle the 65-ish middle school students, I drive to Target.  This would be a good time to tell you that we had black paint available for warpaint on their faces.  And I had put some on.  And my hand was wrapped up.  And I was in a hurry.  And I needed to buy 20 Nerf guns.  The poor guy at Target didn't know what hit him.

But before that, I got a phone call from the friend of the student who was in the hospital.  So, I'm painted, bandaged and running into Target trying to explain to a 17 year old why her presence at the hospital might not be the best idea right now and that I knew this was hard on her too and I'd call her later.

After explaining the whole story to a couple of very amused Target employees and running into a youth group mom who helped me carry the guns to my car, I rushed back to church/work and we had a blast.  Every student went home laughing and telling me that the event should have been longer.

I gathered up the cheeseballs, took out the trash, and went to my friend's house for a girl's weekend.  We put on sweatpants, watched cheesy chick flicks that give girls unrealistic expectations for marriage, and ate junk food to our heart's content.

To be continued...

True Confessions of a Youth Worker

I'll be honest - there are days when I don't want to be a youth worker.  Yesterday was one of those days.  What I've come to understand over my 9 years in youth ministry is that just because I get "those days" every once in a while doesn't mean that I'm not called.  It doesn't mean that I'm ready to give up.  It just means my heart is tired, or that I haven't been home at a normal hour in a while.  So, I've learned to get through those days by letting myself feel the negativity, really feel it so that I can deal with it and then move on.  Yesterday, I wrote myself this e-mail:

"There are days when I dream about moving to North Carolina, fixing up a little beach cottage and running a bed and breakfast while Hubs runs a charter fishing operation.  Today is one of those days.  Today, there are a million other things I'd rather be doing instead of youth ministry.  I don't want to deal with students who hold me to a ridiculously high standard.  I don't want to make slides for events that will never be appreciated.  I don't even want to have small group with my 6th graders and try to explain the person of Christ to them.  Today, I want a normal job that doesn't have eternal impact.  I want to be the bottom of the totem pole, without parents looking to me for answers.  I want to answer dull questions, not explain the imperfections of birth control to a 17 year old.  I want to fall apart, and not have it reflect poorly on a church that I love so dearly.  I want a job I can do from home, without interacting with the mass of emotionally crippled humanity that is high school students.  I want to be able to sleep in on Sundays and stay out late on Saturday nights.  I want this to be the job of someone else, someone who knows more, who prays more, who feels more called to this bumpy road than I do.  And if I do stay, I'd like to see some change.  Some student who is reaching out to their friends, some parent who gives a damn, some curriculum that isn't written by Mayor McCheese who has been living in the church basement for the last 20 years.

 Thank You God that not every day is like that. 

It is finished.

That's right, folks.  My camp-induced retreat from all things social and communicative with the outside world is over.  I'm free.  Free of wearing the same t-shirt every day (for yes, a month).  Free of a very strong urge to shake particularly obnoxious campers.  Free of the very high level of stress that comes with being partially responsible for 400+ campers, 80ish high school leaders and I have no clue how many volunteers.

Now you may be thinking, "Wait, I thought you loved camp?", and my friend, you would be right.  I love the fun, the my-parents-would-never-let-me-do-this fun.  I love the hilarious stories (Your camper said what?!?!).  I love the way that Jesus works in people's hearts when they're outside of their comfort zone and fully dependent upon His strength and grace, because they're completely out of their own.  I love the community that builds from serving together.  I love the opportunity to dance and skip and surprise someone with a water balloon.

What I've learned is that being around hundreds of people is really tiring for me.  Guess that happens when you're an introvert.  Weird, huh?  A lot of people don't think I am an actual introvert.  But a person's 'vertedness' (why yes, I did just make that up) often has nothing to do with their level of social skill.  I know extroverts who can't pick up on a social cue to save their life.  I hate it when people think I'm an extrovert just because I don't run away in fear from a big crowd and can speak on stage fairly easily.  It has to do with where you get energy from.  When I was at church, surrounded by and partially responsible for 500ish people, my tank got drained fairly quickly. I got cranky, tired, snappy and too task-focused.  I'm glad of a bit of down time so I can act slightly more like Jesus.

There Are Days I Hate My Job

This week, we are sending out our hire letters for our summer camp, and it's one of the least favorite parts of my job.  Our camp hires around 100 high school and college students to be day camp leaders for our church's summer program.  It's 3 weeks of high-intensity awesomeness.

But this week, I have the undesirable job of letting a few students know that they haven't been chosen.  Sometimes, we just have too many applicants.  Sometimes, they're not mature enough to handle a team of small children.  Sometimes, they have no clue who Jesus is and are therefore not great canidates to teach kids about Him.

Each of these letters breaks my heart.  Many of these kids have been looking forward to working at camp since they were campers.  Many of them have friends who will be working at camp this summer.  Many of them have very angry, protective parents who will be even more disappointed than their kids (these parents also have my phone number...yay.)

I know it's just a few students.  And I know that we are trying to make decisions based on what will be best for our campers.  But each letter still breaks my heart.  I agonized over these decisions, double checking applications and interviews.  We prayed before we made these decisions, and we prayed during, and, heck, I'm still praying.

This week, I really hate my job.

I Left My Heart In Haiti

I've been in Haiti this past week.  It was one of the most difficult and beautiful things I've done in my life.  While I'm still in the midst of processing the entire experience, I can say for certainty that the only thing that made me want to come home was Hubs.  Had it not been for him, I would have stayed and held the hands of the orphans I met all day long. 

I'm still working on getting used to being able to open my mouth in the shower and the cooler weather and the quietness of our home and the smoothness of the roads and the hugeness of the houses.  The culture shock of coming back to the US has been worse than the culture shock I experienced my first day in Haiti.  I had dreams last night about the people I came to know and love this past week. 

I'll do my best to get some pictures up and convey all that God showed me and taught me this week.  In the meantime, I'm going to go nurse my sunburn and pray that I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Packing it Away!

That's right, I'm actually packing prior to the day I leave for a trip.  Pretty amazing stuff if you ask me, or my mother, who has put up with her share of "but where is the travel-sized shampoo?" the night before we left on a trip.

There are pretty strict weight limits on what we can bring down, so I'm praying that our Wii Fit scale is fairly accurate.  And as I pack my skirts and mountains of old t-shirts (which I apparently have unparalleled skill at accumulating...a 'how-to obtain way more t-shirts than you'll ever need' post to come in the future), I'm thinking about how little we actually need in this world.  I had one student that's coming on the trip tell her mom that she needed to go buy new sports bras - 2 per day - for the trip.  Her mom came to me with her final payment and admitted she took some money to reimburse herself for all the bras.  Now, I get that we'll sweat through at least a bra a day if not two.  But new?  In all different colors?  Not so much.  But to be fair, this girl has never gone on a mission trip to a third-world country.  She's never seen women who wear the same bra, day in and day out for years.  She's never seen kids that don't wear pants because there are no pants to be had for them.  But she will.  Next week, she will encounter all that and so much more.  And I will not fault her for bringing all those sports bras, because I have a feeling that the experience will change her, and most of the clothes she brings will not be making it back to the States.  Because she'll realize that she doesn't need 16 sports bras.  And that it'll be much more fulfilling to come home with half-empty bags than to spend that much money on sports bras.

So I'm asking you to pray.  Pray for these students, that they will not be overcome by the poverty, the hunger, the trash in the streets or the hopelessness.  Pray that they will see God at work.  Pray that God will work in them, that they would reflect His love, grace and care to the folks we will have the privilege of sharing our lives with next week.

Kids Say The Darndest Things

On Wednesdays, the principal at the 11th & 12th grade building of the local school district graciously allows me to visit at lunch and bring cookies.  I have a team of "cookie moms" that faithfully bake mom-made goodness into their cookies once a month, and I get to visit my kids and meet their friends.  Some of their comments are amazing, precious or hilarious and all of them remind me of why I'm in youth ministry.  Here's the sampler plate:

"Wait, do you go here?"

"Did you get these cookies from your windowless van out back?"

"Is it fun being married?"

"Hey, let's have another religious conversation!  My friend told me a quote: that religion is a lot like [male parts], it's useful, but people don't like you shoving it down their throat.  What do you think about that?"

"Can you kidnap me?  I'm not ready for my chemistry test next period."

"Well I put ranch on his cookies because he smashed my sandwich."  Me: "What did you say to him that made him smash your sandwich?"  "Uh, I'm not telling you cuz you're from church."

(From a teacher at the check-in desk) "Honey, why are you leaving your coat in here?  Did they move your locker?"

"So do you have a job?"

"Oh my gosh, isn't that guy hot?!"  Me:  "He's not my husband or Gerard Butler, therefore the answer is no."  "Wait, how do you not think that guy is hot?"  Me: "Because it's illegal, and I'm married."

"Do you have to be a Christian to go to your church?"

"You should treasure your youthful skin while you have it."  (yes, she was 17)

Me (thinking I look pretty cute and age-appropriate: "Yeah,it's a fine line between I'm-not-a-student and I'm-not-a-teacher-either."  "So why did you wear that?"

They truly don't know how wonderful they are, or how me giving them cookies and helping them study for history makes my day.

Haiti Mission

In a little over 2 months, I'll be in Haiti, leading a team of high school students, and I cannot explain how excited I am for this trip!

See, our church has been in existence a little over 20 years.  And for almost all of those little over 20 years, we've been partnering with an orphanage in Cap Haitian, Haiti.  We know their names, their stories, their dreams.  Once a year we buy their shoes.  And more than once a year, if the political climate permits, we send teams down there to continue that 20 some odd year relationship. 

I'm taking with me some of my favorite students.  Yeah, I know, I'm not allowed to have favorites, and God doesn't, but I'm just not that godly.  Also, one of my really close friends moved down to live and work at that orphanage in September, so I'm really looking forward to spending time with her as well.  Here are some pictures from previous trips just so you can get as excited as I am.

What I Do

Last week we had a middle school girls tie-dye night so I could get to know some of the younger girls better.  To make a long story very very short, there were 3 times as many girls as I had planned for and it was amazing.  Few things make a more hectic combination than 6th-8th grade girls, permanent dye and free reign of the student chapel.  One of my favorite moments was when I was trying to talk to a parent that I'd never met as she dropped off her itsy bitsy 6th grade daughter and an 8th grade girl ran up, put her bluish/purple hands on my face and screamed "I LOVE YOU!"

And just in case you don't think life can get better than that, it totally did.

After the middle school girls left, I had one rocking dance party with 7 of my high school student leaders.  I only felt a little old and jiggly and I totally had better moves than most of them.  Yup, I may or may not take some unhealthy pride in the fact that I can still shake it better than a 16 year old girl, but seriously, wouldn't you?  I thought so.  :)

How well I shook my groove thing aside, there was one moment that I am still treasuring.  I was breathing slightly heavy, my thighs were burning, but as we were dancing I was overwhelmed by the fact that this is my job.  My job, people.  I get paid (granted, I'm not rolling in the Benjamen's, but it's a living) to tie dye with screaming middle school girls, to go out to Starbucks with high school students as they are dealing with drama, to have dance parties with leaders on Friday nights.  What an unbelievably cool way to live!

There are downsides.  There are the scary phone calls, the bulimic but beautiful young ladies, the hard questions of faith, the "no, I'm sorry you were not chosen" conversations, the weeks when I'm only home 2 or 3 nights for dinner.  But God does beautiful things, and He redeems this broken world - and I get a front-row seat.

I won't get to do this for the rest of my life.  I will not be able to keep up this schedule when we have kids.  So I'm treasuring every heart-wrenching, thigh burning moment.

Sent

This week has been exhausting.
It seems like every minute has been full of running into town, taking care of administrative stuff at work, major high school drama with my youth group kids, bringing work home, meetings, planning - you name it, it happened this week.  Actually, that's not true.  I can think of several things that didn't happen this week, including sleeping in, doing laundry and an Elvis sighting.  But I did see Dan Bylsma in Starbucks last week.  Way cooler than Elvis.  Anyways...

Wednesday was my longest day up til now.  I had to be in the office at 8:30am, and was going until 10:30pm.  And it was all people-work.  So even my slightly extroverted self was looking forward to the 7pm service where I could sit down without needing to delve into someone else's life.  And it was such a gift from God.

When we were sitting down, I was saying hello to a bunch of middle school girls that were sitting near us and my small group co-leader asked me where I got my energy.  I gave some sort of slightly facetious reply about the power of Jee-sus and she told me I was in the right profession.  I giggled, because I was tired and that's about all I had in me at that point.  Worship was amazing - it's rare that I'm able to block out what's going on around me and really focus on the words of songs.  Whoops, does that make me a bad youth leader?  If so, then I'm a bad leader a lot of the time.  Then our pastor got up to speak and he was talking about the idea of being sent.  Throughout the Bible, people get sent to different places, weird places, places that they fear and places that they've never heard of.  And he challenged us to consider where God was sending us.  To our workplace?  To our family?  To a friendship?  To a ministry opportunity?

And I had a beautiful realization - I really am doing what God wants me to do.  It may make me really tired at the end of a long day, and it may suck up so many Saturdays and it may mean that I get texts at midnight or 6am, but this is where God has sent me.  And knowing that makes all the long days totally worth it.

The Meaning Of Life

At our high school ministry big group night, we've been going through a series called Purpose and talking about what the church, and more specifically we as Christians, has been put here for.  This past Sunday, I spoke about compassion.  To start my research, I googled the meaning of life.  Here's the results:

1 - the philosophical question concerning the purpose and significance of life or existence in general

2 - an Irish TV show that first aired in 2009

3 - the 4th studio album from German thrash metal band Tankard

4 - 42

Needless to say, I'm not entirely impressed with Google's results.  If the meaning of life is 42, then we're all screwed.  I like what Ephesians says better:

Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.
~Ephesians 5:1-2

And that, my friends, sounds way better than German thrash metal.  Not that I've ever actually listened to German thrash metal, but seriously, do you really think it would sound as good as the Word of God?  Me neither.