Learning to love seventh graders.

Every Sunday morning I spend an hour with the seventh graders at Grabill Missionary Church. We usually have a a group of about 15 students, and I have two high school students who join us to offer a different perspective (and to help with crowd control).

I am amazed at the amount of energy these students have at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. Apparently, the worries of a thirteen-year-old aren't enough to cause a lack of sleep. Of course, I usually don't get home from work until around midnight and then spend about an hour planning my lesson for the morning. This doesn't exactly leave adequate time to rest up for the surprisingly exhausting hour of teaching.

An average Sunday School hour includes about ten minutes of hang out time in the basement, ten minutes of chatter when we finally sit down together (including announcements, reviewing the latest movie, and various distractions), half an hour of discussion (which really means 15 minutes of talking about what I've planned and 15 minutes of other conversation), a few minutes for prayer requests and prayer, and then as soon as I say "Amen," they scatter. I wait around to make sure they all head upstairs in time to find their parents to go to the 10:15 service.

Last week (10/27) was one of my worst teaching experiences ever. There was an almost complete lack of focus, there were students who answered as I was calling on someone else, there was endless chatter. I felt helpless. I didn't know what to do. I tried to bring them back to the topic. I tried raising my voice. I tried sitting silently until they figured out that it was time for them to do the same. I tried the "respect" speech. Eventually, I told them that I was frustrated and that I hoped they would come back the following week ready to listen and learn.

When they scattered, I looked at the one high school student who was there that week and we just shook our heads. We tried to make sense of what had just happened, and decided that we'd move from the circle of couches to the chairs that we use on Wednesday nights when the whole group is together.

I wanted to go home and cry. I was so ready to just tell the youth pastors that I couldn't do it anymore and that they needed to find someone else to take over these hooligans. We had a Newcomer Lunch that day and I told one of them that I "hate seventh graders."

I felt like the worst youth worker. There were moments during the summer that I felt like a failure at my job, but this just hurt me to the core. I thought I was a teacher. I thought I would be able to do this. I committed a year to these kids, and I wanted to be faithful to that.

I talked to my dad about it, like I do about most ministry-related issues. He suggested that I simply re-teach the material. I liked that idea. It meant that I would just have to review it and come up with some different examples and ways of explaining the metaphors. (Jesus is the Bread of Life, Light of the World, and the Good Shepherd.) It meant that while I was at GOMAD with Senior High Campus Life this weekend, I wouldn't have to think too much about Sunday School.

Ha! That's funny.

I thought about my seventh graders all weekend.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It's as if they are showing you the way."

The "Don Miller Character" says that in "Blue Like Jazz." I'm not sure whether it's in the book, but it's in the movie. It caught me the last time I watched it, because it's so true. I don't think Don was talking about junior high students, but that's how it worked for me. At least, in part.

One of the volunteers who had been recruited to join Leo for the weekend works with junior high students. I told him that I taught seventh grade Sunday School and he told me that he loved junior high. I was confused and convicted. I had spent so much time complaining about my crazy kids that I had forgotten that I was supposed to love them. I had forgotten that they aren't just a group of wild, distracted, talkative children.

They're children of God. And simply because they are people, they deserve my love. They are valuable. They are fun. They have real questions and real struggles. They need to learn, whether or not they want to. They deserve my time and attention, my lesson preparation, my care.

And I decided that they deserved my honest explanation of how I was feeling about them. So on Sunday morning I stood up on stage in front of my students and told them that I had wanted to give up on them. I told them that I had been frustrated and sad and angry and confused. I told them that I loved them and cared about them and wanted them to learn and understand how much God loves them. I told them that I wanted us to all come together on Sunday mornings to focus and be serious.

We talked through Psalm 139, which was not part of the curriculum we're using for Sunday School now. The night before, I read the Psalm to the Leo students who attended GOMAD. I love it. I wish everyone would believe it as Truth. That everyone would believe that God loves us, made each of us carefully, thinks of us, searches us, never leaves us, sees us. It's so important to know and truly believe those words. I wanted my seventh graders to hear those verses. I wanted them to even begin to understand what it means to be loved by the God who created the universe. It's difficult to convince anyone that he or she is worthy of this kind of love, but it's especially frustrating for teenagers who are facing all kinds of pressure and are in a developmental stage that predisposes them to self-centeredness, comparison, and a lack of self-esteem.

I want to be one voice that represents love. I want to be one person who won't leave. I want to be one "adult" who encourages but doesn't allow them to get away with everything. I want to love them in the best way I can. I want to let God love them through me.

I am so thankful for that guy who helped me see that seventh graders can be loved. I'm thankful for a God who is love. And I am thankful for my crazy, out-of-control, loud, obnoxious seventh grade students. I love them. I like them. And I'm glad I have them this year.

I hope they're glad they have me.

Calling in sick.

This post will include complaints, honesty, and increased self-awareness.

I woke up with a headache this morning. I hate it when that happens, especially when I know that it's the kind that's only going to get worse if I try to continue with my day as planned. After twenty minutes of wrestling with the idea, I called my boss and told him what was going on. He said he's open for me and find someone else to cover.

I hate letting people down. I want to be everything for everyone, as far as my standards will allow.
I'm discovering that it's impossible, exhausting, and destructive. I spend 30 hours each week at work giving to my bosses, co-workers, and customers. I spend four hours each week preparing/teaching/co-leading Sunday School and Break Out Group. I spend two hours each week with students at Campus Life. I'm allowing myself to be drained, and I'm not being refilled quickly enough.

I'm finding that it's easy to be dragged down by the bad attitudes at work. It's easy to fall into the patterns of complaining, sarcasm, and laziness. I wanted to shine a light at my workplace, to change it for the better, but I'm allowing it to change me. And I don't like it.

I don't like coming home feeling like I can't do anything right. I don't enjoy dealing with frustrated co-workers who don't care about their jobs. (If any of you are reading this, don't act like this is new or secret information. And I know I'm not innocent here.)

I needed the break that today offered. I needed the extra sleep, not only to relieve my headache, but to give me some distance from last night. It was a busy night and we felt understaffed. There was tension that no one was trying to hide, we were all on edge, I cried, things didn't get done, and somehow we were $10 short. I usually enjoy most parts of my job. I don't mind busy nights, I can put up with the trash talk, I can delegate. But I had the strongest urge to just walk out and never come back.

At one point, one of the drivers said something about me needing something to energize me or something. He was thinking something along the lines of coffee, but it was at that moment that I realized that my life is out of balance. I'm giving without taking. I'm feeding without being fed. I'm the Yes Girl. And it's not healthy.

I need Christian fellowship with my peers. I need deeper intimacy with God. I need to allow myself to remember that I'm loved for more than my ability to do my job, to teach, to hang out with students.

I'm loved because I'm His daughter. His creation. Not for what I can do. Not for how many times I agree to do someone a favor. Not for wearing myself out trying to be the perfect employee or volunteer. Just because of who He is.

In summary:
-Work was difficult last night.
-I am allowing myself to be depleted.
-I can't do that anymore.
-I love my job and want to do it well without turning into my identity or the way my worth is determined.
-I need a Sunday night Bible study with people my age. (Any suggestions?)
-God is always good and I am always loved, even when I don't feel like either of those things is true.
-My headache needs to go away because I need to go to the bonfire tonight.

The next phase.

It has now been almost two months since I turned in my keys and left GMC for the last time as a staff member. It has been almost two months since I started working at a local pizza place. It has been almost two months since this "next phase" began.

I've been struggling to figure out how I feel about my job since before my first day of work. I make minimum wage. I work about 30 hours each week. I close the store two or three nights each week. Sometimes it's crazy busy and I love it. Sometimes it's super slow and I love it. Sometimes I hate both extremes. Sometimes I enjoy working with everyone, and sometimes I can't wait to send people home. Sometimes I feel like I'm finally settling in and getting used to everything, and the next moment I'm totally overwhelmed and feel like I'm falling apart.

And then my dad said "You're helping teens figure out how to live their lives. You're funding your work at East of Chicago."

It's the answer I want to be able to give. It's the perspective I want to have. It's what I need to convince myself of.

I don't want to be ashamed of making minimum wage. I don't want to feel like I'm wasting my degree or the time and money I spent earning it. Because I'm not. I know what I want to do, and I'm in a period of waiting. I have loans to pay back. I have some growing up to do. I need to learn more about ministry and people and the "real world" and me.

I work at East of Chicago Pizza Company. I teach 7th grade Sunday School at GMC. I co-lead the 7th grade girls Break Out Group. I volunteer with Leo Campus Life.

I don't have much of a social life, which is something I need to work on.

I live with my parents, because I would rather be helping to pay off loans than paying rent.

I'm not sure what I'd rather be doing right now. I'm feeling just fine with what is going on in my life.

And you know what? It's my life. I get to decide how I feel about it. And I choose to be okay with it. I choose to be okay with making minimum wage and living with my parents. I choose to enjoy my job and to love my co-workers.

That's one version of a life update.

A Fresh Start

How does one start a new blog? After four years of hope. just hope., I have decided that it's time to move on. I'm starting a new phase of life. I'm not as busy as I was when I started that blog. I was never as busy as I was when I started that blog.

Here I am, a college graduate. It's been almost three months since I walked across the stage, received my diploma, turned my tassel, and left campus.

I'm a week away from finishing my summer internship with the youth group at Grabill Missionary Church, and I am not ready.

I preached last night, the final sermon in our summer series. Our theme for the summer was "Called and Equipped," using 2 Timothy 1:7 as our theme verse.

Here's what I said to a large group of students aged 13-18. It describes what I'm feeling right now, what I'm afraid of, and what God is teaching me through this. I know it's a lot of words, and I apologize for any typos. I preach from a manuscript, and this is it. Welcome to my post-undergrad world.

It’s our last night together. Okay, so we’re having a party on Tuesday, and we have Sunday School, and I actually do still live here. But it’s our last Wednesday night of youth group, and it’s my job to finish up our series. I’ve been thinking about this sermon since May, when we assigned weeks and topics.

When we first started working, more than two months ago, we spent the first few days talking about our theme. We chose 2 Timothy 1:7, “For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” We decided that we were going to help you, and ourselves, understand that we are called by God to do good works, and that He has equipped us with so much in order to answer that call.

Alec talked about our call to holiness. We are called to be set apart for God. We are called to a higher standard, to relentlessly pursue righteousness.

Luke talked about our call to share the Gospel. He spoke about how God is seeking us, that He desires for us to know Him and to be close to Him, and that heaven rejoices over the lost who are found.

And last week Taryn talked about the importance of helping others see Truth. She challenged us to get out of our comfort zone, to bring our friends out of the cave and into the light.

These are callings that can be so incredibly intimidating. These are the callings that are for all believers, for everyone who wants to live a Godly life. As we seek to answer these callings, we might feel inadequate and wonder how in the world we can do these things. Well, that’s what I’m here to talk about.

2 Timothy 3:16-17 says “All Scripture is breathed out by God, and is profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work.”

That phrase “man of God” relates back to an Old Testament expression that refers to one whose commission is from God. It was used in 1 Kings 13 to describe a man who predicted the birth of Josiah and spoke against the idolatry of King Jeroboam. It’s used to describe other prophets and carries this sense of “minister” or “messenger of God.”

The word for “equipped” here is exertismenos. It’s translated in other versions as “thoroughly equipped,” “complete,” “adequate.” It comes from a word that means “completely furnished.”

So what Paul is saying here seems to be that the one who is called to be a minister of God, a messenger who shares the Gospel has everything that he or she needs in Scripture. That’s just so cool. And that is what we all have. Scripture is available to us. A Holy Spirit-guided study of this book, allowing the text and the God who breathed it out to change your heart will prepare you to share it with others.

Believers are given the Holy Spirit as a guide, a counselor, a helper. In John 14:25-26 Jesus is talking to the Eleven (Judas had already left) and says “These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” The Spirit helps us, dwells in us, intercedes for us. That’s just so cool.

And we have each other, which I think is the resource that we forget about. We have the body of Christ. We have an opportunity, not just an opportunity; we have a responsibility to encourage each other, challenge each other, support each other, keep each other accountable, learn from each other, and provide good quality Christian friendship and fellowship. And let me tell you, you need that more than you know. This summer I have been forced to spend time with people. I don’t usually choose that, so having this job has been a stretching experience for me. And it has been amazing to hang out with you and have conversations about life and God and next steps. I have loved having a social life with Christian brothers and sisters. And some of you just got back from ten days of constant fellowship. You know what I’m talking about.

But, welcome to the end of summer. Welcome back to reality. School starts soon, with early mornings and homework and sports and rehearsals and everything else that goes along with summer being over. There are endless opportunities for distraction. For me, though, things are a little bit different. I graduated from college in May. I don’t get to go back to school. That’s right. I said “I don’t GET to go back.” You see, I’m at something of a crisis point in my life. And I have to tell you all of this because it’s not fair for me to stand up here and preach at you about all of the ways God has equipped you for your life if I don’t admit that I struggle with the same things. I need you to understand that everything I’m saying to you tonight is like a personal pep talk for me, too. I need these lessons. I need these reminders. And I’m sure that I’m not the only one.

Let me talk to you about what it feels like to be me right now. I get asked at least once a week what I’m going to do after the summer.

I make a face like this (make face) and say “I don’t know.”
“Well, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was your degree in?”
“Liberal Studies, with concentrations in Literature, Music, and Psychology.”
“Oh, so what can you do with that?”
“Exactly. Or, as my mom puts it ‘everything and nothing.’”

Then they remind me to keep pursuing God’s will and that He’ll reveal it to me in His timing.

You know what? That doesn’t help. I wish it did, but I am just not naturally that patient. I usually leave these conversations feeling even worse about myself, because not only do I not have a plan for my future, I’m not being a good enough Christian. I know that that is ridiculous and that I have no reason to think this way. But it seems so much easier to feel worthless than to try to convince myself otherwise.

I face my own insecurity every day. I have to constantly remind myself that I am not worthless. I have to constantly remind myself that God created me in His own image, that He loves me, that He sees me, that He cares about my future, that He will guide my steps, that He will heal my heart, and that He is bigger than my problems. Most importantly, I have to remind myself that He has given me so much that I can offer back to Him. I have to remind myself of Truth. Because it doesn’t matter how I feel. The power of God is not determined by our fickle, changeable emotions. And He has equipped me, He has equipped each of us, with so much more than we can see or choose to see.

I have been wondering since May what I would say to you tonight about how each of you is uniquely equipped to answer God’s unique call on your life. I thought about discussing spiritual gifts, and reminding you of your talents. But I’m not sure that would help, because I’m sure that you’ve heard all of that before. I know I have. People have probably tried to teach you that you are worth so much more than you feel. And what’s your response? “No, not me. That’s for someone else. I’m stupid, I’m a loser, I’m a failure, I’m not useful for anything.” Right? It’s so hard to see our own worth. We want to avoid being self-centered and arrogant, but we so often end up thinking that we’re the lowest of the low.

That’s not okay. There’s a difference between humility and an inferiority complex. There’s a difference between not knowing what God has equipped you with and thinking that you’re not equipped at all. I’ve been on both sides. It’s easier, I think, to feel like we’re not equipped at all. I’ve been wrestling with this all summer. As I try to figure out how to best serve you guys and love you guys and talk to you and listen to you and plan events and work with the rest of the youth staff. I have questioned whether I should even be here, all the while knowing that this is where God called me to be this summer. Taking all of this from head knowledge to heart knowledge, from knowing it to actually believing it, that’s something I can’t do on my own. I hope you can relate to this.

Here’s my bold statement for this closing sermon: we are equipped with the struggle to figure out what we’re equipped with. We have a God who is mysterious and secretive and so much bigger than we can imagine. He knit us together. He made us carefully and knows exactly what He made us able to do. He knows us better than we know ourselves, and He wants to lead us and show us His desires for our lives.

I think that a lot of the time we feel like we shouldn’t struggle with this question of how God has equipped us. We think we should have it all figured out and should be ready to do anything that He has called us to. But did you know that Jesus asked his Father to change His plans? Jesus struggled with what the Father was asking him to do. In Matthew 26 and Luke 22, Jesus is praying in the garden and says (in Luke), “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” Jesus made it okay for us to be weak. He made it okay for us to wonder whether we are ready for our calling. But He also modeled the correct response. He submitted to God’s will. He drew closer to God in the midst of this trial.

I won’t speak for God’s motives in hiding Himself and His plan for us, but I am willing to say that each struggle, each question, each frustration, each fear is an opportunity for us to talk to God. “Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you.” Let Him love you. Let His perfect love cast out your fears. Stop thinking that you know yourself better than anyone else does. Stop acting like you aren’t called to anything. Stop believing that you are worthless, talentless, and inadequate. Because that's just not true. Let God show you that He has created you with purpose, that He has called you to follow Him, that He has equipped you with everything that you need. He has given you Himself, and that is the best equipment that you could ever want.

Let’s look at that verse again, because there’s a phrase that’s implied, but that we forget about:

“For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but [and this is what’s missing, ‘God has given us a spirit] of power, love, and self-discipline.”

We have it. We don't have to search for it. You are called by God to do good works. And you ARE equipped. Believe it.