I began my career in youth ministry at the ripe old age of 22. Looking back, I’m fairly certain the church hired me primarily because I looked like their idea of a youth minister: young, male, thin, sporting a goatee. The trouble was, I had no idea what I was doing. Though I’d spent my whole life in the church, I had no training in leadership and very little background for working with youth other than a four-year college degree in psychology. Still, I graciously accepted their title of director of youth ministries and did the only thing I could think to do—emulated the youth ministry of my experience.
I quickly filled the calendar with lock-ins, game nights, outings to the movies, road trips, bowling and pizza parties. Whatever it took to keep the teens happy and entertained, I was more than willing to do. Join them for a sledding party on a school snow day? Sure. Dress up in some crazy costume for a Halloween party? No problem. Though I’m loath to admit it, my younger self perfectly fit Benjer McVeigh‘s image of the youth minister as clown.
I think I finally realized this distinction one Sunday as we hosted a whole series of messy group games in the church parking lot. There was no spiritual content to this event. It was simply a way to attract a lot of teens. It worked. I knew that on Monday morning I was going to be able to give a great report to my senior minister about what a successful youth program I was running (because, of course, it really was all about me, after all).
One particular game involved having teens chug-a-lug as much soda as they could out of plastic tubing connected to large soda bottles held over their heads. In my naiveté, I failed to realize that I was really teaching the teens a tamer version of a college drinking game. Two youth volunteered and began chugging away. One teen simply allowed the soda to pour out of her mouth and all over her clothes, to the great amusement of her peers. But the boy insisted on trying to actually drink the entire two liters. Thirty seconds later he turned green and proceeded to regurgitate all of the soda, and his lunch, onto the church parking lot. As I drove home that night, I paused to consider what exactly I was trying to accomplish with this ministry. Was attracting large numbers of youth with entertaining activities really what God was calling me to do?
I wonder how many of us working with youth in the church can tell personal stories just like this? How many of us accepted youth ministry positions perhaps fully ready to program activities but lacking, as Benjer puts it, “the skills and follow through that define the difference between being a youth leader and a pastoral leader.” Benjer argues that a helpful and biblical way to think of the pastoral leader is that of “shepherd.” In the role of shepherd, we place nurture of individuals, not programming, as our highest priority, and “we do what it takes to care for those who simply need to know that Jesus still loves them and that his church still cares about them.” I find this shepherd metaphor helpful, yet I also wonder how many youth ministers can really afford to focus the bulk of their time on nurture rather than programming activities.
To be clear, I’m in complete agreement with Benjer that care for the youth, volunteers and families in our ministries is a top priority. The gospels are ripe with examples of Jesus listening to, healing and simply spending time with people in need. I can’t think of any stories where he’s too busy to hang with the poor because he’s planning the next lock-in or weekend ski retreat for the disciples. But Jesus didn’t have to answer to a senior pastor, a church board or parents who might wonder why the youth group is decreasing in size due to the lack of attractional events and big trips.
I wonder how some church personnel committees might react to a youth worker who proclaims that caring for youth is more important than calendaring for youth. It can be harsh reality in the church that sometimes we are forced to choose between following our call as ministers and meeting the expectations others place on us as employees of the church. And yet, Benjer argues that fidelity to our call to ministry would demand that we first and foremost listen not to our own ambitions (or perhaps the will of the church board) but rather to the leading of God and the Holy Spirit.
I was expecting that somewhere in his argument Benjer might suggest that one of the most effective ways to follow the Spirit’s leading and to develop a more mature sense of our roles as shepherds of youth (rather than clowns sent to entertain) is through the process of becoming licensed or ordained ministers. As more and more churches decrease in size and shrink their budgets, I suspect that the number of salaried youth leaders or youth directors willing to settle for playing the role of clown will decrease as well. Churches simply will not be able to afford paying someone to play this role.
Instead, we will likely see more seminary-trained associate ministers who will lead a variety of ministries in the church in addition to the youth ministry. Or perhaps the movement will be away from professional ministers having much of anything at all to do with the nurture of youth, and the responsibility will fall primarily to lay leaders. If this is the case, I wonder how the church will help these volunteer leaders see ministry as “serving others by helping them discover and use their gifts to serve teenagers and for the glory of God.”
Will churches allow more youth leaders to journey, as Benjer suggests, “out of the big top and into the lives of students who desperately need to know Jesus?” Will churches be willing to develop ministries that focus more on nurturing the faith and gifts of youth rather than on developing high-profile programs? That remains to be seen, but the future of youth leadership and youth ministry may actually hang in the balance.
Comments