REAL Holy Week…As Told Honestly by Your Pastor & DCE.

Get enough complaints about not blogging, and guess what?

You get back into it pretty quick.

Suffice it to say it’s been an extremely busy couple of months for me. I’d bore even myself trying to recount everything that’s been going on, so I’ll stick to one humorous reality I faced for the first time this year: Holy Week with as a church work duo.

We’re both church workers at the same church this year, for the first time–my husband as a pastor, and me as a Director of Christian Education.

What does this mean during the average week? We’re co-workers, and live and breathe church at work and at home. In fact, if we didn’t have two dogs to care for, we might occasionally forget we have a home away from church.

It also means we’re pretty well-prepared in jumping in to do mostly anything at church. Watering flowers? Rearranging furniture? Running registration tables? Creating dessert trays? Dusting shelves? Running screens? Organizing files? Trimming poinsettias? Making coffee? Guiding campus tours? Cleaning bathrooms? Serving meals? Leading chapel? Making hospital visits? Writing or leading devotions, lessons, or Bible studies at a moment’s notice? We got it covered, no sweat.

Holy Week, however, is a different beast entirely.

What might seem like a cheerful holiday for most–yellow bunnies! pink marshmallows! foil-wrapped chocolate!–is nothing short of laborious torture for those of us in church work.

Picture this: seven church services in eight days.

That means bulletins, flowers, communion set up, musicians, announcement slides, song lyrics, lights, candles, service order, sermons, readings, ushers, banners and paraments, food and coffee–times SEVEN.

This year, my husband and I started a new tradition to commemorate our first year in church work–our Real Holy Week picture diary, capturing how we felt at the end of each day. And rest assured, friends, those were some long days we worked–along with our dedicated staff–to prepare for Holy Week 2013.

So here’s a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes in the lives of two brave church workers during Holy Week:

Day 1 (Palm Sunday)

Cassie: Optimistic

Tyler: God save us…(We’re Gonna Need It)

Day 2 (Monday)

Cassie: Seriously? It’s only Monday?!

Tyler: The calm before the storm…

Day 3 (Tuesday)

Cassie: And we thought tax season was stressful…

Tyler: Kickin’ it into high gear!

Day 4 (Wednesday)

Cassie: I just got home…it’s MIDNIGHT…but holy cow, I love my church!

Tyler: Zzzzz……

Day 5 (Maundy Thursday)

Cassie: Holy  Guacamole!

Tyler: Bringin’ it, Maundy style!

Day 6 (Good Friday)

Cassie: I love the most depressing service of the year!

Tyler: And He saw that it was GOOD.

Day 7 (Saturday)

Cassie: I. am. so. tired.

Tyler: This. Is. It.

Day 8 (Easter Sunday)

Cassie: Hallelujah! We survived Holy Week 2013!

Tyler: Thank you God!

And now….you know the real story behind Holy Week.

Next time you ask us why we look tired after Easter, you’ll know exactly why.

The #1 Sin of Church Workers?

I know, you haven’t heard from me in a while. I’ve been busy.

This whole spring-rolling-into-summer-rolling-into-summer-camps-and-VBS-and-mission-trips-and-confirmation-stuff thing is pretty much the most chaotic time of year for those of us in youth ministry.

But trust me, things haven’t slowed down in my mind at all, even though I’ve neglected my blog here in the last month.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about ministry and what sort of legacy I want to encourage my youth to have in their own lives. I happen to have a couple of kids who aspire to be in ministry someday, so I’ve been pondering what the most important bit of wisdom I could possibly impart on them could be, in view of this long-term goal.

After a lot of careful thought, I think it comes down to this single shred of wisdom:

Remain humble.

It seems so simple. Anticlimactic, almost.

Yet I think that the sins of pride and arrogance are the ones that cripple church workers the most.

The very nature of a pride issue cuts one off from being teachable or moldable. From ever admitting wrongness or failure. From sharing the credit with others. From truly connecting with other people. From ever apologizing. From rolling up the shirtsleeves and doing the gritty, hard work that’s required—because, after all, it’s beneath you or it’s not your thing.

Pride makes it impossible to try someone else’s idea. It isolates from being open to God’s promptings. It makes it difficult to work with others. It prevents others from coming to you—because who wants to confide in or seek counsel from someone who sneers down their nose at you?

Most shamefully, arrogance can lead us off of the real path of God’s work and instead focus our eyes inward, on our own kingdoms, accomplishments, and successes—whether actual or merely perceived.

By the very nature of the problem, it’s impossible to try to convince someone that they do have a pride issue. Anyone who offers an honest opinion, a helpful remark, or even a harsh criticism is brushed off by those who think they know better than anyone else.

Pride says that people are just bodies to control. Pride whispers falsity. Pride dominates and boasts and refuses to actually care about anyone but itself.

I definitely know that there are incredible, humble, servant-hearted people out there. I thank God for those people—they are the salt of the earth. I have many of them in my ministry, and I absolutely couldn’t function without their constant encouragement, love, and care for others.

But lately, I’ve realized more and more that pride is a stronghold for many in the ministry. Pastors, youth workers, students across the board seem to struggle with being possessed with an arrogance problem.

In fact, in my opinion, pride is the number one sin that has a grip on those in the ministry.

Is it possible to start out with the purest of intentions, and become something that does a disservice to our loving Savior?

Absolutely.

Which is why we must constantly be on guard with our actions, and aware of what we’re allowing into our hearts. We must regularly and honestly evaluate ourselves, and ask those we trust to evaluate us. Sin can—and does—swallow us whole, without us being aware that it’s happening. And only our ever-patient, ever-loving, ever-forgiving Savior can help us guard our hearts and minds from this deceit.

Jesus had the harshest criticisms for the Pharisees, the teachers of the Law. When I was younger, I didn’t understand that. Now that I work in a church, I completely understand. As people charged with the task of sharing Christ with others—with leading and teaching and exhorting—we should be the biggest proponents of humility.

Instead, it’s the trap that Satan has carefully laid for those in the ministry—and he has snared many in its deadly clutches.

When I was in college, I was a resident assistant for two years. During our month-long training in the summer before school started, we were asked to help prepare the school for the arrival of students by cleaning the dorms. On a skin-searingly hot summer day, we spent ten hours scrubbing mold from refrigerators, plunging toilets, mopping floors, painting hot metal railings, moving back-breaking piles of mulch, and repainting parking lines in the student lot.

As I stood with a gallon of bleach in one hand and a brush in the other, panting in the heat, I kept looking over at our directors. Although they were the loudest cheerleaders for doing this service project, they had been sitting all day in the shade, sipping their ice waters. They didn’t do a thing the entire day—in other words, their talk didn’t even come close to matching their walk.

And when we had finished up what later became known as “Slave Labor Day”, they were the ones to receive the accolades from the university for working so hard.

Their arrogant pride ultimately turned an entire staff of student leaders against them, in pure disgust. And no amount of team building or pep talks could ever restore the respect that was lost in one day.

If that can happen, I shudder to think how many people we’re turning off from Christianity because of our pride issues.

People’s eternal lives are being impacted.

All of those people in the world that shout “hypocrites” to us? I get it.

Pride. It’s a dangerous pitfall—and that’s why I tell my student leaders over and over and over again that they must remain humble.

I recently saw a quote online that said, “We’re called to be fishers of men, not keepers of the aquarium.” I’ve found myself repeating that constantly.

He didn’t call me to lord over a church.

He didn’t call me to put myself up on a platform.

He didn’t call me to consider myself better than the rest of my synod, other churches, my staff, or the students and families I work with.

God didn’t call me to be a keeper of the aquarium, but to be a fisher of men.

Yes, I’m Married…to Satan.

I don’t think too many women have uttered the phrase, “Honey, why don’t you go take off your makeup and we’ll go get some dinner” to their husbands.

But I have.

You see, I’m married to Satan.

No, really. I am.

At least, I’m married to the actor who portrayed the devil in our church’s Good Friday drama just a few days ago.

Tyler had been practicing a lengthy and intense monologue featuring Satan interrupting a somber worship service over and over again, which made for an incredibly powerful experience that I don’t think a single person who witnessed it will ever forget.

It’s hard to even describe it—other than to tell you to imagine what it would be like if the devil stood in the midst of the congregation, maniacally screaming, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” as lightning lit up a dark sanctuary and thunder rattled the building.

Yes. Chilling.

But my goodness, let me tell you—being married to Satan is quite an interesting experience.

For one, I spent weeks listening to Tyler perfecting the mocking, sneering voice that he used throughout the drama. Setting the table for dinner and overhearing, “Why don’t you come down from that cross if you can, Jesus” from the other room is just a little disconcerting.

And then there was the costume selection. An endless question of “Does this look evil enough?”

We settled on a lovely blood-red silk dress shirt—Bugatchi, if you’re a fashionista like me—and a silk vest paired with black slacks and a black tie. As my father quipped, “The devil wears Prada.”

What a lovely mugshot, Satan...I mean, Tyler.

Of course, there was the stage makeup, too. In Tyler’s opinion, the devil should be sickly pale, with wickedly black hair, a long black goatee and mustache, and dark circles around his pale eyes. He achieved this look with a copious amount of black hair dye, a lovely eye shadow palette borrowed from moi, and a super-light shade of foundation borrowed from our resident office makeup expert, Sue.

I didn’t tell Tyler this—I’m a bit embarrassed. But that shade of foundation that turned his face a papery white color?

The same shade I use on a daily basis.

What can I say? I’m a good ol’ German Lutheran girl.

Anyway, after Friday’s service, I had scores of people grabbing me by the elbow and breathlessly whispering, “Oh, Cassie, your husband was simply amazing!”

Ironically, the ensuing conversation always went pretty much the same way:

Me: “Thank you, I quite agree—he’s a great actor.”

Them: “Oh, Tyler was just so creepy!”

Me: “Yeah…he was just acting, though…”

Them: “But he was so creepy!”

Me: “Yeah.”

Them: “What’s it like to live with him?”

Me: “You know…intense…”

Them: “Is he that creepy at home?”

Me: “Um…no. You see, he’s just acting.”

Them: “Ooo…he was just so scary. I can’t imagine living with him.”

Me: “You know, he’s not really like that….he’s a good actor.”

The exchanges reminded me of a young friend of mine who was born and raised in Africa, the daughter of missionary parents. She laughingly told me that she can boil down people’s reactions to hearing that she’s from Africa into one of three lines of conversation:

A) “Did you live in a hut?”

B) “Did you have an indoor toilet in your hut?”

C) “Did you play with lions?”

The funniest part of this entire experience, in my personal opinion, is that Tyler did the children’s message on Easter Sunday, at all four services.

Yep—playing Satan on Friday night, and handing out plastic eggs full of candy on Sunday morning. He’s a talented guy.

All humor aside, it was delightful to watch my husband use the gifts God has blessed him with to help an entire church think a little bit differently about the true sacrifice that Christ made for us on that cross. Listening to the twisted, manipulative, venomous anger that Satan has for God—and knowing that despite how bone-chillingly evil Tyler portrayed him as, he didn’t even come close to tapping the true depth of wickedness that the devil actually is was mind-boggling.

And then, of course, was the incredible fact that Tyler didn’t break character once—despite having one of our youth grin and wink at him while he was screaming his lines at full volume.

Or the fact that while he stood in the front of the sanctuary, delivering the most passionate lines of the whole drama in candlelight, the tornado sirens shrieked at full-blast and the wind howled around the building, scaring the dickens out of the hundreds of us inside who were too afraid to move a muscle.

Thank goodness our lives can go back to normal now—without Tyler attempting to perfect the art of imitating the devil.

And let’s just say that despite the fact that I played the lead character in last year’s VBS drama, there’s only room for one actor in this family.

It’s definitely not me.

Don’t Judge the Savior By the Screwball…

(Author’s Note: This post is part of a multi-author blog site called “The Question”, where a variety of authors will be blogging about a sole topic. To check out the site, please go to whygrudge.blogspot.com or facebook.com/The-Question)

It’s the epic question that, provided you had the right answer, could land you a multi-million dollar book contract and enough speaking engagements to last you a lifetime.

The problem is that I don’t suspect that there’s merely one answer to this taxing question: why do people have a grudge against Christians and the church?

The implications of the answers affect each one of us, as Christians. However, if we’re being honest with ourselves—do we really want to know why we’re so disliked?

To put it in another perspective, isn’t what we’re asking here tantamount to the nerdy dweeb asking the most popular kid in school to bluntly list out all the reasons why he’s not cool?

Quite simply, one of the biggest reasons that Christianity isn’t popular is that we’re soldiers stranded in a hostile enemy territory.

Jesus himself tells us in Luke 12:51, “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” The world we live in has little patience for our standards of life. They don’t understand that our philosophy isn’t “every man for himself”, but instead “love your neighbor as yourself”. In a culture obsessed with freedom and success, the idea of submitting and laying down idols seems downright stupid.

And worshipping someone you can’t even see? Ridiculous.

For a year in college, I lived with a roommate who wasn’t a Christian. She was so clueless about Christianity, in fact, that when she watched “The Passion of the Christ” for a mandatory religion class assignment, she paused halfway through the scene of Jesus being whipped mercilessly and asked me, “They don’t kill this guy in the end, do they?”

My roommate observed my behavior as a Christian for an entire year. She asked me questions about why I would get up early on Sunday for church, or why I would waste time reading my Bible when I could be hanging out with the boy I had a crush on down the hall. When I finally convinced her to come to a campus chapel, after months of praying for the opportunity to get her in church for the first time in her life, she sat in mute silence, her face stony. She never came to chapel again.

I valiantly tried my best to point out all the benefits to my life as someone who had a relationship with Christ, but she wasn’t won over by my best arguments. To this ultra-hip, beautiful girl who had everything in the world going for her, she didn’t have the slightest interest in giving up her wild weekends and changing her lifestyle to live a life of obedience and thankfulness for her Savior.

Ultimately, my former roommate became a Christian five years later, after she hit rock bottom in her life. It wasn’t until everything in her life was shaken that she finally realized how important Christ really is.

I think that’s part of it, truly. Our lives are so comfortable and convenient, so fast-paced and chaotic, so distracted, that we forget that we need a Savior. In fact, we’re not entirely convinced that we have anything we need to be saved from. Sure, maybe we screw up every once in a while—but me? Deserve death for my disobedience? Nah.

Sometimes we don’t even realize that our lives have an ending point—and a future home after death—until something earth-shattering forces us to recognize our own invincibility.

And maybe, if we’re being honest, we don’t like to be reminded that we’re invincible. Perhaps we resent the fact that Christianity points out the weaknesses we want to hide, the secret flaws we want to pretend don’t exist in us, and the fact that we, too, will someday cease to breath and will die.

But why, too, are people so opposed to Christians themselves?

Being a Christian, I’m not sure if I can answer that for the “other team” accurately. But I suspect that maybe we find people hating us so much because, well, we’re kind of lame sometimes.

A Christian shirt I actually own...

We wear our pithy Christian shirts. We listen exclusively to our Christian radio stations. We read our Christian books with ridiculous titles, we drive our cars with silly bumper stickers, and we frequent Christian establishments.

Do we ever intentionally look at the bubble of safety we’ve created for ourselves to live comfortably within, and think that maybe we’re not meant to live solely in this zone? That maybe God called us to live out in the world and witness Him to people who don’t read Christian magazines and listen exclusively to Chris Tomlin?

As hard as we try, we’ll never be anything like Jesus. Yet we walk around proclaiming to be His earthly representatives. Unfortunately, when we yell to the world, “I’m a Christian!” and then screw up—as we so often do—we’re representing Him poorly.

Imagine a secretary who proudly claims to represent her boss so well…yet she continually forgets messages, doesn’t return phone calls, loses important receipts, chews out other employees, and bungles one business deal after another. Isn’t that sort of like what we Christians are doing to God?

I hate when I hear a band do a cover of a song from another popular group. Sure, it’s technically the same song—and sure, they can hit all the notes—but at its core, it’s merely an imitation of the real thing. And really, that’s what we are, as Christians. We are merely an imitation of Christ—not Jesus himself.

Sometimes we’re a pretty darn lousy imitation, too. But just as you can’t judge a horrible rendition of a song and give up on the original tune because of the blockhead cover artist, the world shouldn’t judge Christ based on our failed attempt to represent Him.

Somehow, I suspect our mission needs to be getting ourselves out of the way and letting the Holy Spirit shine through us as unclouded as He can. To share that, as Christians, we’re not perfect–but even as the fact that counterfeit money is circulated in the world doesn’t detract from the real money that’s out there, our weak imitation of Christ doesn’t truly represent who He is.

His kindness overflows. Ours does not.

His love is endless. Ours is not.

His forgiveness is limitless. Ours is not.

We are human. He is Almighty.

Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to realize how far we really are from Christ’s perfect love, and to honestly show that gap to the world. It’s only when we’re actually open to the stinging truth of our own failures and shortcomings that we can admit our own infallibility and our desperate need for a Savior.

Because really, that’s the beauty of our faith in a nutshell: in our deepest shame and our biggest mistakes, we can be forgiven and renewed and given a future we don’t deserve through the grace that Christ offers us freely and unconditionally.

And when we, as His earthly representatives, can be candid about this—maybe we’ll encounter a world more likely to sympathize with us.

On A Hamster Wheel and Spinning Madly…

Sometimes, I feel a bit like a hamster running frantically on a little metal wheel.

This weekend, I went to the City Museum, a zany and creative interactive playground in downtown St. Louis, with a few friends and some of my high school students. While there, I had the opportunity to actually jog in a glorified hamster wheel–a contraption I privately think of as “the DeathTrap”. It’s a large, wooden circle that rotates as fast as you can run in it–which, if you really get going, can be pretty darn fast.

Every time I’ve used this thing–usually with a few other people–I’ve ended up falling down and seriously bruising my knees on the hard wood planks and gigantic metal hinges.

Me, my husband, and my brother on the City Museum's wooden "DeathTrap" last spring...the boys may LOOK like they're happy, but we were all secretly fearing for our lives.

I don’t know how hamsters survive. Seriously. How do they get off of those maddening metal wheels?

Do they ever get off?

You can obviously tell I’ve never owned a hamster, right? I seem to have a lot of questions about their lifestyle…

So, back to this DeathTrap machine that skinned up both of my knees with surgical precision this Sunday afternoon. I really did feel like a hamster, frantically trying to keep myself upright while this machine rattled around faster and faster–I kid you not. The only thing missing was the cedar woodchips–which, frankly, are more interesting to me than the actual hamsters. 

Sometimes I wish my bedroom floor was coated in cedar woodchips. What a lovely scent that must be to wake up to each morning.

I digress, as usual.

Today, we had a staff meeting that totally sent me spinning, hamster-style, in a new direction. It’s exciting, confusing, uncertain, and exhilarating all at once. Our staff has a lot to discern and pray about in the coming months.

It’s still messy, and we all have lots of questions…but to me, the most important takeaway is that my church is willing to change in a time when the landscape of religion is definitely changing all over the world. I feel so fortunate to be a part of a staff that’s actively studying culture, striving to be influential and relevant in our communities and world, and is ready to take whatever steps necessary to reach people with the life-saving message of the Gospel–even if it means stepping away from everything we’ve always done, and all of the carefully crafted programs and events we’ve so meticulously created over the last several decades.

Somehow, God managed to place me perfectly at this church. It’s not a church that’s going to bury its head in the sand and let the world pass it by, becoming obsolete; rather, it’s a church that is seeking to understand what’s going on in the world and how it can still be relevant with an eternal truth that the world needs to hear.

Yowzah.

I’m excited for the future of Faith, and I’m looking forward to the new directions that our church will be heading soon. I truly think that God is guiding us–in fact, I think that we’re heading the same direction that a lot of other churches and leaders in the Christian world are heading.

2011–it’s a whole new adventure.

The wheel’s already spinning, friends…

A Little Look Back is Good for the Soul…

Yesterday was the two-and-a-half year anniversary of my first day working at Faith Lutheran Church.

Looking back–I was a bright-eyed, ambitious, and totally overwhelmed young intern.

I shared an office with another co-worker, had about five books on my bookcase, a computer, and a whole desk drawer full of empty files.

Oh, and a pen that I had brought from home. I didn’t know where the community stash of pens was located yet.

And–I wore heels.

You’d have to work here to understand how outlandish that is. I felt like a pariah.

Beyond our senior pastor and the co-worker I was sharing an office with, I couldn’t remember any of my coworkers’ names. Which was doubly awkward, because the entire staff had peeked into my Facebook profile before I even arrived in St. Louis–so the first comment that many of them made to me was, “Gee, you don’t look anything like what your pictures looked like!”

Me with my husband, during our first month here in St. Louis...

(Note to self: don’t show up to a brand-new office with a drastically shorter haircut, when your co-workers have already done reconnaissance work on you. It’s never good to throw people a curveball when they don’t know you yet.)

Since my husband and I had just moved to St. Louis from southern California, I didn’t know my way around the city at all. My dear husband had kindly inked a tiny map of my route to work on a Post-It note, which I pasted securely on my dashboard.

Did I mention it was the first day of Vacation Bible School? The church was overflowing with people–and my first responsibility was to wrangle a class of preschool kids for the entire morning.

By some small miracle, I handled those screaming, energetic youngsters and managed to ease into my job and learn the complexities of the office copier in the course of that week.

The hard part was yet to come, though. My duty at Faith was clear: my job was to work with middle schoolers and help manage the brand-new student center that they had just built.

Beyond that, I was clueless.

Ironically, in the course of my studies in Christian education at Concordia University, I had often said that I didn’t want to work with kids any younger than high school–that my intellectual nature wasn’t compatible with grade school or middle school kids.

That’s why you never make statements like that, right? They seem to always come back to bite you.

That week, I hosted my first “official” youth event–a little pizza party halfway through the week, designed for me to meet and greet dozens of middle school kids at once. I remember being so excited to meet these kids, but so nervous that they wouldn’t like me at all–that they would breeze past me, grab the pizza, and hightail it home without a second glance. What if God plunked me right down in a place where people would hate me?

I was pleasantly surprised to discover how friendly the Faith kids were. They actually seemed to like me right away.

On day two, I was able to sit in the unfinished student center building, sipping cappuccino as I chatted with a few middle schoolers and high schoolers. Slow but steady progress.

Unfortunately, I was completely flabbergasted when I realized how many names, facts, and stories I would have to learn. My mind was spinning when I collapsed at home every night that week.

Little did I know at that time that I would spend the next few years laughing, crying, and bonding with these people…that some of them would become like my own kids…that their families would open their homes to us and take us…that I would end up thanking God for this church and the people here every day.

Oh, and I didn’t ever expect that I would find myself doing games that involved kids eating baby food or shooting cereal out of their nostrils…but that’s happened, too.

So much has happened in the last few years. I’ve met so many incredible people, and I’ve cried tears of joy upon seeing the love and generosity of so many people who so freely share God’s love with me. I’ve had doors open for me to pursue my passions in writing and student leadership development, by writing my own column at thESource, helping Lutheran Hour Ministries with their curriculum, and being a part of the Missouri District Peer Ministry Training Team. I’ve been inspired and motivated by my coworkers. I’ve made connections with great DCEs and youth workers all over the state of Missouri. I’ve loved working with incredible, devoted, inspirational leaders in our middle school programs. I’ve been blessed to be able to freely go into the public grade school and middle schools near us and simply hang out with students–to meet them where they’re at. I’ve been able to mentor a couple of students and see tangibly how God is powerfully working in their young lives.

Oh, and I’m currently on Computer #3, and have a jam-packed bookshelf and file cabinet. And I only wear heels on Sundays around here–especially not during Vacation Bible School week.

I could never have imagined all of this, back on my first day of work at Faith.

It’s easy for me to forget how abundantly God has blessed me–so this little look back is good for my soul.

Despite the many frustrations, moments of doubt and anger, my incessant questions, my wrestling with my calling as a church worker, my discontent, and my flaws and weaknesses, God has been faithful to me. He’s been my Anchor as I struggled to settle into a new marriage, two new homes in a new state, a new job, new friends and co-workers, and plenty of new passions.

Thanks, God.

Now if only He could do something about the pens that my friends seem to get a kick out of stealing…that’s a dirty (although highly effective) prank.

The Most Insightful Car Ride. Ever.

I woke up this morning with a contradictory thought in my head:

I think I’m most effective in my job when I don’t realize that I’m doing my job.

Let me back up and explain. Since our confirmation group moved up to high school this year, my small group co-leader and I decided to move up with them. Dawn and I both feel like these girls are family to us, and we’ve seen the Holy Spirit work so powerfully in our relationships that we made the committment to be their small group leaders for another four years–which, if you’re doing the math, adds up to six years total of hangin’ with the same girls.

Yep. We love ‘em.

So, this committment to our small group is what moved me into high school ministry on top of my actual job, which is middle school ministry. Basically, I’m now doing ministry to 5th through 12th graders–which is something I love, because I appreciate so many different things about these different age groups. This is what I was trained for, really–to do intergenerational, lifespan ministry.

Added bonus: free pizza is now practically a staple in my life.

Anyway, after our Refuel high school small groups last night, I had a few kids ask me for rides home. Oakville is a pretty small town (face it, folks, it is–don’t give me more of that “You’re from California, you don’t understand the Midwest” mumbo-jumbo as an excuse!), so I don’t mind dropping them off.

Oh, the things we do when we love kids...

However, when I climbed into my car stuffed to the brim with kids, I found myself unthinkingly doing ministry as I drove the various kids home. It was like suddenly their arms failed at carrying the weight of the world, and all their real thoughts and frustrations came tumbling out as we scissored across Oakville. I found myself listening and counseling, consoling and giving advice, and talking about God and the big picture of life as we drove.

As I dropped the last student off and sat talking to her in her driveway, listening to her tearfully pouring her feelings out, I realized suddenly that I was no longer talking. Instead, the Holy Spirit was prompting me to have insights and say things that she needed to hear. I have no other explanation for the eloquent and meaningful answers that came out of my sleep-deprived, utterly exhausted brain.

I drove home, pondering the fact that I thought my ministry was done when we wrapped up our small group time in prayer earlier that evening. I know that God is all around, and that there’s never a wrong time to talk about Him–but I guess I figured the kids would be their usual chaotic selves as I drove them home. I didn’t expect them to be so honest–to be transparent in their struggles–to be listening to each other and sharing their feelings so willingly in my car.

 I really think they wanted to go deeper, to talk more about their faith and their lives, for even longer than we gave them. And that made me realize that I, as a youth leader, need to pick up on that and give them opportunities to go deeper. Otherwise, I’m stunting them.

It reminded me of the first time I realized I loved talking about spirituality and faith. I was a junior in high school, and I was sitting in the sunlit library at my school, chatting with five other guys. I don’t remember the specifics of what we were talking about–I know it was Lutheran theology and prayer–but I remember the scene vividly.

I remember getting an overwhelming feeling of peace and contentedness. I remember looking around the room, tangibly realizing the many blessings God had given me. I remember looking at the faces of the guys I was debating with and thinking, “I could do this for the rest of my life.”

I remember walking away after over an hour, marveling at how much that one conversation about faith impacted my entire week. And now, looking back, I realized that this one conversation started me down a path that ended up with me becoming a Director of Christian Education–a position that allows me to share my faith all the time.

I think the reason I feel like I’m most effective in my job when I don’t realize that I’m doing it is because that’s when the Holy Spirit is flowing through me uninterrupted. That’s when my ego doesn’t get in the way. It’s in those moments that I’m not worried about saying the wrong thing, or overthinking things. God’s Words of comfort just flow naturally, and I don’t even need to analyze or think of what to say–it’s just there, at the tip of my tongue.

As a church worker, there are plenty of dangerous temptations out there. It’s so easy to overanalyze and doubt sharing God’s Truth–because sometimes it convicts, and drives people away. It’s easy to forget how insignificant you really are, as you’re standing up in front of hundreds of people and wielding a microphone in your hand. It’s easy to put yourself in front of God, and to hog the stage instead of letting Him be the focus.

I’ve met so many church workers who’ve fallen into these holes and wear their identities on their sleeves:

“I’m a martyr. I don’t get paid enough for what I do.”

“You can’t ever possibly understand what my job is or how hard I work.”

“Of course I can dabble in this–I have to be real, don’t I?”

“I need those kids to complete me.”

As it says in 1 Peter 4:11, “Whoever serves, let him do so as by the strength which God supplies.” What it really boils down to for me is this: God doesn’t need me; He simply works through me. And I suspect maybe the best way to let Him work through me is to just shove myself out of the way, as often as I can.

All of this from one night of driving kids home…pretty impressive, huh?

172 Hours, 30 Kids, and WAAAAAY Too Many Bathroom Stops

Last evening, I returned home from our middle school mission trip to Loveland, Colorado. I think my brain is still recovering. I sure hope it returns to normal capacity soon.

Our new "family"

You see, I spent the last 172 hours straight with 30 kids under the age of 15. 

Ah. Now you get it.

I slept barely four hours a night, sharing a slowly deflating air mattress with a fellow leader, crammed in a tiny classroom with 15 other girls–three of whom talked in their sleep. I nightly attempted to fall asleep to the sound of boys running down the hall and body slamming into each other.

I ran around and played with little kids at a Boys and Girls Club in Colorado, where I had kids sneezing on me and crawling on my lap to whisper their breathy secrets to me. Naturally, I’m now sick.

I have a hard time hearing anything because my ears have been plugged since we left the Rocky Mountain National Park, where I walked around in a constant state of fear as 30 kids scampered around like Bigfoot running from a camera, flying through the woods and scrambling up and down rocky ledges, craning for a view of the unguarded sheer cliffs. 

In the last week, I’ve only had three showers. And, at one point, I joined the desperate kids in bathing in a local lake–in full knowledge that the toddlers a few feet away were probably tinkling in the very water I was washing my hair in.

I’ve basically lived on sandwiches and water–sometimes not even that much, as I had to share my lunch one day with a kid who forgot his.

I’ve helped sweep, mop, wipe down counters, empty trash cans, pick up infinitesimal pieces of paper off the ground, serve food, cut paper, hand things out, pack and repack vans, inflate air mattresses, hand out medicine, balance our budget, plan our routes, hold cameras for kids, juggle phone calls, break up fights, comfort crying kids, direct leaders, discipline kids, and say “because I said so” more times than I can count.

I’ve been alternately sweaty, freezing, sore, ticked off, mischievous, lackadaisical, angry, sobbing, awed, shocked, organized, disorganized, and exhausted.

But, I’ve never seen God so powerfully at work.

While on our trip, we found out that one of our student’s young cousins had been in a car accident and passed away. It was devastating, and beyond heart wrenching to be the one trying to figure out how, when, and where to inform this student about the tragedy that will forever affect his entire family.

It was heartbreaking to inform the entire group, and to see them tearfully embrace each other as they hurt for their friend, but the way that God worked through the kids is something that touched me deeply and will forever impact my own faith.

Seeing these young kids, some of whom have dealt painfully with death already in the last few months, cling to God in their sorrow–praying for each other, sobbing into each other’s shoulders, holding each other, taking care of each other, praising God in the midst of some of the most challenging moments of their lives–it was beyond moving. Every single person in our group cried together.

Without spending the twelve hours I could spend writing about this entire trip–sharing countless inside jokes, insights into the incredible kids on our team, and the gory details of being inside a car with half a dozen teenage boys who just wolfed down Taco Bell–I really just want to give glory where it’s due.

The Holy Spirit moved powerfully in our kids and leaders this week, in undeniable ways.

There’s something special about our group–and I see them now as part of my family. It sounds like such a corny thing to say, like something that would be written in a senior yearbook by the homecoming queen…but I really mean it. 

Our church is special, our leaders are incredible, and our youth are even more amazing. Our kids were willing to do anything–including leave halfway through our trip and driving straight through the night to get to St. Louis–to get their friend home for his cousin’s funeral.

Some of the students even volunteered themselves up to fly home with their friend, offering to pay for part of their ticket by themselves. Anything it took to help their friend. It was incredible to see how they absolutely paid no attention to themselves, but only strove to do everything they could for each other.

Part of me really feels like I was blessed more by this trip than anyone else–interacting with so many kids who poured out their hearts to me, who challenged me in my own faith, and who ran to me when they were hurting was quite an experience I’ll never forget.

I’ve never felt so connected to a group, many of whom I’d never had a significant conversation with at the beginning of the trip.

I’ve never interacting with leaders who I was so sure were the perfect leaders for this trip.

And I’ve certainly never, ever been more impressed with any group of kids. Ever.

God is good.

How One Extravagant Shoe Purchase Turned Me Into A Bee…Oops.

Do you ever find yourself doing things you never imagined doing?

Like, if someone predicted what you would be doing in a year, you’d laugh hysterically and somehow manage to smack them on the back while congratulating them for coming up with such a fantastical yarn. And then you’d go about your day, inwardly chuckling at how off-base some of your friends can be.

Then, suddenly, before you know it: surprise. You find yourself doing something totally out-of-character.

 Welcome to my life.

First, let’s get a few things straight: I know myself very well. So well that during my freshman year of college, while sitting through the mandatory meeting with their “career advisor counselor”, I informed the counselor that I didn’t need her help in understanding my “personality profile”. She urged me to take the test, and I flat-out told her exactly what my personality profile was going to be. Somehow, she seemed utterly shocked that I accurately predicted my own personality to a T.

I like writing, painting, and running things. I like people and dogs. I dislike celery and pointless meetings. I hate cilantro and math.

And, I especially hate acting goofy in front of large groups of people.

Don’t get me wrong–I have no qualms about being on stage. I’m in charge of so many things that I sometimes feel I perpetually have a clipboard and agenda glued to my arm. I’m used to knowing and repeating facts, making presentations, and teaching kids and adults alike. I’m even prepared for the random, on-the-spot question that I have to announce to the entire congregation every Sunday morning (which has actually happened, on occasion).

But, for whatever reason, I’m all facts and figures in front of people. Some people (hmmph, Tyler) absolutely adore being on stage and hamming it up. The goofier they can be, the better.

That’s just not me.

So, how exactly did I end up being the lead character in this year’s Vacation Bible School skits and hamming it up in front of hundreds of kids, scores of parents, and my entire staff?

Thanks, shoes, for getting me into this....

I believe it’s due to my shoes. I blame them.

You see, about a month ago, I stopped by a shoe store to scope things out. I found the most adorable pair of bright yellow shoes. I put them on, and felt like I was walking on a ray of sunshine.

But–while they weren’t really expensive, they were totally unnecessary. I fear sounding like a lunatic if I actually tell you how many pairs of flats I own (13).

Naturally, I purchased them immediately and decided to make up my mind later.

Just a few days later, my friend Dawn asked me to consider having the role as the lead bee in this summer’s VBS, which is all about a beehive called “Planet Zoom”. As soon as she presented her offer, I thought of those yellow shoes.

“Hmm,” I said to myself, “I could actually justify keeping those shoes, since they would perfectly compliment that bee costume they’ll undoubtably make me wear.”

And now, a month later, here I stand: Barb Bee, Hive Director.

Ten long skits and about nine thousand lines to learn.

I never, ever would’ve imagined myself as the lead character in a huge VBS production…but here I am.

Darn those yellow shoes.

But–I did justify their purchase. And they do look pretty darn good with my bee costume.

Who has the last laugh now?

What A Weekend…

Sometimes I’m just in complete awe of how much God has blessed us.

We just wrapped up our “marathon weekend” of church services: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and a total of 6 services between 3 sites on Easter Sunday. It was an amazing weekend, and hands-down some of the most meaningful, Holy Spirit-filled services I’ve ever been a part of in my life.

The Good Friday service, in particular, was incredibly moving. Between the heartwrenching drama, the beautiful dancers, the live sand art, the band and the awesome songs, and the men’s ensemble singing the Lord’s Prayer at the very back of the church in complete darkness, I think most of the congregation (including me!) were in tears most of the time.

Equally moving, though, was the way I saw God working through so many people this weekend. It was like getting a little glimpse of heaven on earth…like He allowed us to step back from our busy weaving of the tapestry of life, and see a tiny sliver of the Big Picture that we’re all contributing to.

We had over 40 youth and several leaders come to a Saturday morning prep event for the Flowering of the Cross, a Faith tradition where rough wooden crosses are transformed into head-to-toe flower bouquets before the eyes of the congregation at every Easter service. These kids and leaders gladly gave up their one “free day” of the week to cut and arrange thousands of flowers for the services the next day.

At the same time, there were musicians practicing in the Worship Center, decorators prepping the stage with flowers, lighting and sound techs running through their configurations for the services, maintenance guys cleaning every inch of the church, and plenty of staff running to and fro with their last-minute preparations.

We have so many wonderful servants here at Faith, and this weekend they were all at work. It was amazing.

We have been so blessed by these faithful people.

It’s hard for me to even comprehend how someone could’ve gone to church this weekend and not seen God’s hand in everything there. To me, even the fact that the greeters were not only willing to show up at 7:30 am (and be on their feet all morning), but also excited and friendly is a testament to the fact that the Holy Spirit is at work in people.

The flowered crosses are placed outside after the services

What a privilege it is to me to call this church my home.