I Just Want to be Part of Something...

We were watching a slide show at keynote one morning at Montreat and a slide flashed of a young adult with the caption, "I just want to be part of something."  It really slammed into me.  I think,  more than any other saying about teens or young adults, that describes them exactly.  They want friends because they want to be part of something.  They constantly look for "things to do" because they want to be part of something.  They join gangs or get into real trouble because they "just want to be part of something."

That ought to be good news for the church of Jesus Christ.  Boy are we part of something.  And boy do we not act like it.  We seem a bit embarrassed to admit we get up on a Sunday to go to....church?  We can sometimes find a million reasons not to admit that we need that spiritual food along with our cheeseburger.  We find it easy to insist on practice for sports and arts and even school, but accept any excuse from ourselves or our children to miss "practice" for faith.

One of the delights of Montreat Youth Conference is the abandon with which teens 1) expect to have a God encounter, 2) wait impatiently to get in the doors at worship and keynote and fight for front seats, 3) find ways to support each other in faith, 4) share their faith openly and verbally with each other and the world.

And then we come home and under the weight of the world's disapproval we revert to our convenient, not-so-challenging practices...and we suffer for it--and God's world suffers for it.  Because as children of God, we are part of saving the world.  We are not doing the saving, thank goodness, but we carry the message of God's saving grace.  We do the work of God's hands in our world.  We point to the kingdom of God when it breaks through in the here and now; we look for the final completion of the kingdom in the future.

"I just want to be part of something."  Let me tell you...I am part of something. We are part of the biggest "something" that ever blessed the earth.  A week at Montreat youth conference will show you what might happen if we all lived every day as if it was Montreat week.  The challenge is put to us yearly to bring our Montreat blessings back to our everyday life.

Will we see each other on the front pews in Sunday worship?  Will we be waiting for the doors to open?  Will we daily find ways to support each other's faith journey?  Will we answer God's call to change the world with God's love as we share our faith openly with each other and with the world?

Good Grief...

A special light in the faith family of which I am privileged to be a part is a young woman who inspires and leads us all with her passion for faith and sharing faith with others.  She has answered God's call to be a leader wherever she is...serving our church as its first youth elder...serving the greater church in conference leadership...serving God in her daily walk...sharing God's love with everyone she encounters.

Frustrations abound as she practices her faith.  You cannot answer God's call without frustration.  But she recognizes that God is working and she journeys on.  She heads to seminary in the fall.

She shared with us last night what all of us who serve the church experience.  With the excitement and challenge of serving as we are called, we also grieve the loss of those communities that nurtured us.  We can't worship on Sundays with those people who raised us in the faith.  We lead worship.  We can't enjoy Christmas Eve services in the community that first blessed us with God's love.  We preach those services.  We can't celebrate all the baptisms, confirmations, graduations, youth Sundays, (insert celebration here) of our friends and families because we are celebrating all those baptisms, confirmations, graduations, and youth Sundays in the churches to which we have been called.

The call of ministry is a blessing.  I can tell you that I have been nurtured and I have loved many congregations in the body of Christ.  Every church I have attended has blessed my life.  But I, with all my colleagues, also grieve.

I think what I am discovering is, in the life of faith, sacrifice and blessing walk hand in hand.  Pain and growth are inescapably intertwined.  And the ability to trust the journey of faith, even when it looks nothing like what we had imagined, is part of our call, whether we are called to ministry of Word and Sacrament, or whether we are doctors or lawyers or teachers or sports reporters.  We may be called to sacrifice things we love...things we never imagined we could do without...things that we don't want to give up.  But the blessings pour in, and we have the opportunity to bless others.  And it is good.

Home...

Closing day at Montreat...and I am being pulled toward home...so much so that I am going to leave after worship instead of at 5 in the morning just to be at home.  There is a bed here...nice people just like home...food...maybe AC at home that I don't have here, but it hasn't stopped me from sleeping so far.  But it is home.

The Jeremiah Project youth performed an interpretation of the end of Revelation this morning, the celebration of God's kingdom here on earth...God living with God's people...all people.  The river of life that flows though the streets of the city, healing and bringing together the nations.  No more tears, pain, mourning...IT IS DONE!  God's kingdom is here!!

Home.  God's home.  Our God.  With us.  Part of my journey of faith is being pulled toward home...God's home...our God...with us.  Pain, mourning, tears...no AC...still with us...but the glimpses we have of this kingdom to come...this kingdom here, now...pulls toward home.

God, keep pulling...I want to be home.

Ah-ha Moments

I love ah-ha moments.  Nothing is more satisfying that seeing someone "get" something.  Yesterday, we were talking about reading scripture in worship.  Youth read once, however they thought it should be read...then I asked them to read like they would be talking with a peer...another teen they were mad at.  The tonalities changed completely, and in this grou,p there was an audible gasp on the difference.

Which do you prefer?  The second, of course. It made so much sense hearing it read the way we would have normally communicated with each other.  The dynamic of the readings completely changed.  They transformed into a powerful word from God instead regurgitating words from the Bible.

God gives us language so we can share with each other.  Granted, the challenge is greater when we are using the language of a more formal translation.  But we have learned the power of "communicating" even the more formal words with the same passion that we use talking with each other.

God brings our words alive when we believe them, understand them, and share them with others.  And when people hear God's words (even through us...) ah-ha moments abound!

Prissy Preacher...

We sat down and made a list of things we really like in worship...things that help us connect with the holy...things that inspire and motivate us in our Christian journey. That list was written under the highly theological symbol of the "happy face." Under the "sad face" went all the things that distract us or keep us from effective worship.

One of the biggies under the sad face was "preacher talk." "Preacher talk" is when the preacher talks one way when she/he is talking to you face-to-face, then goes into highly formal, "prissy" speech in the pulpit. We all agreed that drives us crazy. "Why can't people be 'real,' even in the pulpit?" we lamented.

Then, the youth got into the pulpit to do liturgy and put on their "preacher voices." Paul asks, "Why do I do the things I hate?" I always thought he was talking about some special sin...but now I think it might have been prissy preacher talk.

Stuck in the Mud...

 We were talking worship yesterday in this worship-focused small group, and we were talking about different worship practices and what we do in our churches.  the youth, as expected, made assumptions about what older people would like and would dislike in church.  the ubiquitous comment about change bringing out the "fussy" in people emerged.  Heads nodded.  The conversation moved on.

Then one of the kids retraced their steps and said, "You know, this thing about changing worship...We worship in a certain way here at Montreat and if anyone came in and changed it, we would have a fit!"

We seem to like our ways of doing things...even when they are boring or stuck or no longer effective.  It is hard for us to imagine change or to do change.  And if we are led into change for whatever reason, there comes a point where we actually struggle to go back...even if we have liked the change.  Human nature...

The other part of the conversation revolved around assumptions.  (I won't insert the joke about assumptions here...)  The youth are frustrated that adults assume that they all like contemporary worship.  Many of them really like the traditional worship that their churches offer.  They also like other things.  variety is good...especially when it is good.  They are frustrated that adults make the assumption that they don't want to be involved in the church or that they do not like the church as it is.

I shared with them that most adults...no matter how old...really have the "brain" of a 26-30 year old.  True isn't it?  If you are 50 don't you still feel about 30 in your head?  That's the frustration of the achy joints and the memory that is full of junk-you-don't-need-so-you-can't-remember-what-you-do-need.

So we concluded that worship style and preference is not a function of age, it is a function of familiarity.  Perhaps we should stop making assumptions about each other and start listening... "like" really listening to each other.

I Stand Amazed...

I have the privilege of leading a small group at Montreat Youth Conference this week named the Jeremiah Project.  The title comes from the Jeremiah's call...including text that God encourages Jeremiah to not let anyone stop him from speaking for God because of his youth.

We have done many things at the last minute, and I have ten kids who have stepped up to the plate...giving far more of their time than they anticipated at the beginning.  Much of the normal "free time" you have at Montreat to be with your friends has been devoted to rehearsals.  They are the definition of sacrificial giving. 

Today's challenge for faith and real life is to listen to these kids.  They are certainly not perfect...no adult is either...but their dedication and willingness to sacrifice to share the good news of God's salvation has inspired and blessed the multitudes...

Lift them in your prayers...

Work

We work...work...work...work...work...work...work...work...all the live long day...

Or some iteration of that was sung by the seven dwarfs...remember?!  So we work...work...work...

and then....

we play!

Question of the day...does working all day in 100 degree heat and humidity make one's brain turn to mush?

Sharing...

Bayou Blue was really last night's post...but I had to go to bed last night and didn't get it finished this am before we had to stop.

Tonight's post is on sharing.  We share meals, pods, ink pens, snacks, ideas, grace, patience, knowledge, and...

wait for it...

poison ivy. 

Some boys clearing the yard got into the PI.  Drew is fine...no reaction.  Nick is a little affected.  Adam is pretty broken out. 

The kindness my son showed as he rubbed my shoulders has shared the love...and the PI...

My mother used to say (when she was totally exasperated)...don't help me...

I'm not saying it...but next time I'm going to make him wash his hands before he shares the love...

Bayou Blue...

"Praise Jesus for the connectional church!"

Actually, it was more like "PRAISE JESUS FOR THE CONNECTIONAL CHURCH!!!!!"

Jill's voice representing the bayou Blue Presbyterian Church literally rang out in the gym where they fed us a spread of Cajun dishes that would choke a horse (as my grandmother would say).  We were sooo stuffed physically...then we got fed spiritually--this woman was a remarkable witness to faith.

Bayou Blue Presbyterian was founded more than 100 years ago by a Presbyterian missionary who wanted to offer services in their native Cajun French instead of the Roman Catholic liturgy in Latin.  Many of the people who served us last night were related to the folks who founded the congregation...great-great grandparents.  This tiny church began serving volunteers right after Katrina and have not missed a week since.  This week alone they will serve more than 250 people.

Jill spoke about their experience.  The people who live in the bayous of this are are independent and interdependent.  They work hard to take care of themselves and harder to take care of each other.  After Katrina, which didn't hit them hard, they opened their doors and their school and their hearts to anyone and everyone.  Their community doubled in size in weeks.  They were busy giving and giving and giving.  Then, Rita struck--a direct hit.

Jill's words were, "We couldn't see the forest for the trees."  There was so much devastation on top of the chaos from taking in so many people from New Orleans that they couldn't even see where to start.  So others started for them.  Volunteers did a little and a lot, and with every little bit, the community healed...and heals.  Jill told the story of her grandmother always insisting to her that she be grateful to be part of a connectional church.  "Praise Jesus you are a part of the connectional church!  "PRAISE JESUS YOU ARE A PART OF A CONNECTIONAL CHURCH."

We are writing you postcards tonight because we are grateful to be part of a connectional church.  We belong to FHPC, but we also belong to Metairie Ridge Presbyterian and to Bayou Blue Presbyterian and to Christ's church all over the world.

"PRAISE JESUS, WE ARE A PART OF CHRIST'S CHURCH!!!"

Perception...

Meet our mascot...

We'd like to tell you his/her name, but we can't think of one.  Suggestions would be welcome.  No criteria except reminding us of our trip...thank goodness for the connectional church.

Day Three...still kicking...

Lots and lots of happy, verbal frogs...much like a chorus of Jr. High boys making armpit noises with their hands...you know the ones I'm talking about--the noises, not the boys.  Rain starting about 3 and continuing steadily through the evening and off and on during the night.  The paper mache tent did not leak...yet.

The kids continue to be amazing.  If your teen ever drives you crazy doing nothing, you need to come on one of these trips.  We arrived at Mrs. Hill's house yesterday at about 9:30.  Her yard was filled with aluminum cans, construction trash. and a collection of "stuff" that we all thought needed to be thrown away.  She also had one of the cutest puppies ever...mix of shepherd and pit bull...beautiful dog but completely puppy.  The lucky youth were assigned to take the dog for a walk first..."take a guy with you to be safe"...so Jay went. 

The rest of us started with the clean up, which made Mrs. Hill very nervous.  A group started putting cans into plastic bags so they could be taken to the recycling center.  I think we wound up with about 10 bags of cans...smushed ones.  Yeah, that many were in the yard.  The boys began to take the construction trash to the curb.

Instructions..."Put the trash between the two trees on the line between my house and the neighbor's house...they'll pick it up (meaning, we think, the trash guys).  We walked to find the two trees and found no trees...it finally dawned on us that there were two dead trees piled up in the ditch...huge piles of trash that had been there a while (with  no trash pick up)...ah ha!...we dumped! (learning in the meantime that assumptions make an .....well, you know that one too.)

Some primed new wood to paint later.  Mrs. Hill hovered and kept telling us not to throw things away..."just leave it," she'd say.  So we did...but as the morning went on and the trash cleared...as the flower beds were weeded and the yard was reclaimed, she began saying..."yeah, go ahead and put that in the front."  It was an amazing transformation and at the end of the morning we had done everything we could do without a chainsaw and we went to Wal-mart and bought her some new plants to replace ones she had lost in the cold weather last winter.  (She loves to plant things.)  It's hard to know how much work they did without being there...but you'll have to trust me, it was massive.

Afternoon brought a swamp tour with a hilarious guy.  The swamp is beautiful.  The one thing I wanted was the miracle of silence...I just wanted to be in the swamp and hear no teens...alas...but it was quite the adventure.  Carolyn or Molly asked if people swam in the swamp, but about that time the gators arrived to get their chicken treats from the driver and the question of swimming became a moot point.

The guys did a great devotion and we collapsed at about 10...check Facebook for pics... Tonight, food and fellowship at the Cajun Pres church...Bayou Blue Presbyterian...more later...

BTW...we are grateful for messages and texts...they lifted our spirits and fed our souls.  God is good!

Day two...it gets better...

Your youth made you soooo proud at Metairie Ridge Presbyterian church.  I have pics but we'll post tomorrow.  suffice it to say that about 40 people worshiped with us, or rather we worshiped with them.  They even moved to the front even though no one thought they would.  It was a beautiful service.

We have lucked out with the forecast...much rain expected but that will keep the temps in the high 80's instead of the high 90's.  Good for us.  We spent several hours in the French Quarter.  Joe loves beignets...surprised even him.  Never ask Adam Utley for directions.  Carolyn can manage to not make friends with strangers when asked.  Yes, Meghan, it is true that people try to pick your pockets or steal your stuff.  (She was smart and ready, BTW.)

Houma is big-sky beautiful.  We are living in folded paper tents.  (See what you have to tune in to see tomorrow?!)  There are huge black bugs...crickets on steroids...and little green tree frogs are EVERYWHERE.  It is so wild that Carolyn decided against snacks in her pod.  Smart....

We have eaten too many hot dogs.  Probably will eat more.  Joe insists only on Kraft mayo and eats it on peanut butter sandwiches...eewww.  We all sweat.  We all are exhausted but are looking forward to sleeping well in our tinfoil...

Grace and peace!

Do you always think of me when you shave your legs?

"Do you always think of me when you shave your legs?"

That was the serious question in the van before we got out of the parking lot.  Nothing like taking a group of teens on a mission to illuminate the real significant questions of faith.  Why had it never crossed my mind?  In the quiet darkness of the pre-dawn, the question was asked that revealed the truth in all relationships.

I don't really know that it can get better than that...but if it does, I'll let you know.