Well, its been almost a week since we’ve been back and I’m STILL recovering (really, I got used to the hiatus from technology in black hole…I mean Gary, WV and didn’t want to boot up the laptop). But I thought it would be good to reflect on the week and give the rest of ESM and CNX a little peak into what we did. Now, I could have wrote a “play-by-play” or summary, but I thought I’d write some of my favorite quotes and give a little explanation behind them:
NINJA!!!
Our biggest contribution to group time and getting to know the other youth groups was the game Ninja. For those of you who don’t know the game, its like watching a Kung Fu movie with it pausing every 3 seconds (if you want more details, you’ll have to be a volunteer and play with us some time 
). Whenever we had some free time, someone would throw do
wn the gauntlet (mainly cry out NINJA!) and we’d immediately assume our positions and start playing. The first night was more like the Kung Fu movie than ever. No one wanted to give up when the rain came down so there we were, soaked to the bone, brandishing the oddest positions, and playing on till it was over (no worries parents, everyone changed out of their wet clothes after the game and stayed healthy). The other groups soon were intrigued and got in on the action. It created a bond that spanned the mission trip and into ICHTHUS where we were able to secure them a camp site right next to ours. So, if you see teens randomly frozen in place with their hands in karate poses, stand back and watch the Ninja fly!
They need our help, why am I going to complain?
Our trip took us to one of the most remote locations in West Virginia (Gary, WV to be specific) to help a dying community pick itself up. Gary used to be one
of the wealthiest towns in West Virginia before the coal industry dried up. Families who used to run this town were now forced to watch their life and livelihood slowly decay.
Our particular job was to scrape paint off of a home that would be a fresh start for a single mother (Tiana) and her four sons. She is six months from finishing her nursing degree, coaches her son’s ba
seball teams (that’s right, plural…TEAMS), and living in a house with ten other people. Our job was really to scrape the paint one day, paint the house the second day, and finish up anything on the last day.
Within an hour, all of us knew that scraping wouldn’t be done within three months let alone three days. The paint was four to five layers thick with an adhesive layer that made it near impossible to scrape. Trying to keep thirteen youth inspired to work within a square foot of outdoor plank for hours soon became a futile effort. Some were redirected to a VBS with some of the local children, others were happy to continue scraping with the distraction of music, working on a roof, and Canaan’s witty riddles, and others had a few hours of reprieve by hauling garbage out of the house (fallen ceilings, insulation, trash, dirt, grime, stuff left by squatters). After the second day, I approached one of the youth who chose to stick it out and scrape until we left and said, “I’m really impressed with your work ethic. You haven’t 
complained, haven’t taken excessive breaks, and just worked hard,” to which he replied, “they need our help, why am I going to complain?” It motivated me to stay positive and keep everyone on track through our last day on the job.
Now THIS is what I signed up for!
Have you ever heard a youth say this? Yeah?
How about cleaning up their room? Maybe?
How about cleaning up a room with snake skins, fallen insulation, mud, bullets, plaster, moldy furniture, clothes, and other items of relative disgust? No?
This was what made me smile on the second day when Nick and I discovered another room that needed to be cleaned out. While looking through the house for depressions in the floor (there was a floor that needed to be replaced and we wanted to make sure it wasn’t prevalent throughout the house), we stumbled on this room that looked like something out of a bad earthquake movie. The floor was swollen with the water that had leaked through the roof, the insulation, and the ceiling. Finding another way to divert the redundancy and tediousness of scraping, I quickly assembled four of the youth to start cleaning and rearranging the room so that it could at least be used for temporary storage. As the dust rose and the garbage bags filled, one of the teens said, “now THIS is what I signed up for!” I never thought that anyone could get excited about cleaning up a room…especially a teenager.
Christian music doesn’t suck!
Okay, I’ll admit it. This was my sentiment that I text back to my wife. See, I am particular about the kind of music I listen to; I want great lyrics and great instrumentals. So when I was in college, in Atlanta, I had my fill of great music. I got to hear groups and singers in dive bars before they were playing in front of arenas and amphitheaters. So, I hope you won’t judge me too harshly when I turned away from Christian music. The lyrics became generic love songs that could have replaced God with a girl or boy and the music sounded like something out of Orlando (see, that’s where most of the boy bands got their start…no offense Fred!). This was one of the big sticking points I had with this entire trip. I didn’t want to spend four days listening to diabetic coma inducing sappiness wrapped up in a Christian nougat flavor.
Nick, Stephanie, Canaan, Learyn, and Aaron had other plans for me. After a few hours of listening to bands like Superchick, Anberlin, and Red, my expectations were immediately blown out of the water. Their lyrics were relevant (suicide, hard time with life, don’t let the world tell you who to be) and their beats were infectious. I even got to reconnect emotionally with God as I headbanged (yes, I headbanged, jumped, threw my fist, and swayed) to Skillet and Disciple.
After that first full day, I knew that I was going to have a new playlist on my music player.
Be genuine, be real, be authentic, and most of all be full of Christ. Because if you’re not full of Christ…you’re full of …something else.
I feel like I am part of a group of adventurers in life because of youth ministry. It is one of the last and greatest unknowns because this generation is VASTLY different from any that preceded it. To do anything involving the latest generation is to be exploring alongside them rather than saying, “follow me, I know the way!”
They are naturally inquisitive, bold and confident, hard to earn their trust, and easily hurt when you break that trust. They are quirky and free with their expressions of pain, love, humor, melancholy, and indifference. They pick and choose what to believe yet aren’t swayed by the flashy and popular if it rubs against their experience.
So how is a youth minister, born of a different time and experience, supposed to relate and care for teens so diverse and challenging?
No matter what speaker I listened to, they all said the same thing:
1.) Listen (SHHHH!!! Don’t talk)
2.) Be real (it’s okay not to know the answer)
3.) Care (really care, don’t patronize)
4.) Be filled with Christ (you may be the only way they see Jesus)
This is why I love what I do. Nowhere else can I scrape paint, play Ninja, and listen to great music and call that work. Nowhere else can I ride an exercise bike like a bucking bronco and have those I work for love every minute of it. Nowhere else can I be completely real and honest and not be punished by the cultural norm but rather celebrated and trusted.
I said from the beginning that if I bankrupted the youth budget for this trip that I was okay with it and I still mean it today. This trip meant more to me (and I hope to a few of our youth) than anything else I could have planned throughout the year.
And it wasn’t because of the music…
It wasn’t because of the missions…
It wasn’t because of Ninja…
It was because I felt Christ surrounding us, filling us, and participating with us every step of the way. As we became filled with purpose, direction, faith, and love, we overflowed to those around us on the mission site, the campgrounds, the festival, and on the ride home. It is a lesson I could fail to teach in 100 lessons on Sunday. It is the lesson of Christ’s authentic, real, and overflowing love that can change everything in a matter of minutes, hours, or one week in June in West Virginia and Kentucky.
