THE CHURCH BECOMES THEIR CHURCH:
When we are on a high school trip, they forget the relative smallness of their voice, forget what it means to be a minority age bracket or the "someday" church, and instead find themselves face to face with a powerhouse of a woman who expects them to be fully capable of ministry right here and right now.
And, because Ms. Betty believes that the is is their church, they believe it too.
They will gladly clean out the nastiest, hottest, most spider infested corners for Ms. Betty, because they know that when they come running down the stairs to announce a shooting star, Ms. Betty will send them right back up again with cups and a pitcher of ice water for everyone. Because, every moment deserves a celebration.
We bring them on high school trips so that we can join in with people like Ms. Betty in celebrating the wonder of who they are right now, because, when they claim this Church as their own, something amazing happens...
WE BECOME PARTNERS:
Yes, they learn what it looks like to become partners in development by working together with a community to meet felt needs in a sustainable way. Yes, they build relationships and respect that spans the global Church. But, more selfishly, we become partners as a youth group.
You can't spoon feed kids on a ministry trip, can't do everything for them, can't provide all the answers before they think to ask the questions. There is no way to learn a language or a culture for a person. No way to pre-build a relationship and hand it to them wrapped up with a careful bow.
But, it is also the perfect chance to *not* fall into the trap of thinking that "giving students ownership means getting them to do *all of the things.*"
Because, being between the ages of 11 and 18, and able to pass a background check, means serving in children's ministry. We so often expect greater service and consistency from our kids than we do from 80% of the adults in the church.
It's notnecessarily healthy probably not healthy at all, but it is deeply engrained in the culture of our local church and has been for as long as I can remember.
It's not
Until we hit a ministry trip. And, then, for a few magical days, we are doing this thing as partners.
On a ministry trip we are allowed, expected, to work towards the same goals as our kids, expected to function as a community. We each take our turns leading and following, have our moments to step up and our times to stand down.
On a short term trip, we know what we're doing, and the differences start to matter less, because...
On a short term trip, we know what we're doing, and the differences start to matter less, because...
THEY ARE SIMULTANEOUSLY SHELTERED AND PUSHED:
Sheltered in that we build up walls around them that their normal life would never allow.
When they stay up late talking, we stay up with them, watching for that magical moment when they are finally ready for sleep. We let them nap whenever the opportunity presents itself and encourage playfulness and obnoxious songs. Provide food and Band-Aids and aloe. Check up on bug bites and scratches and monitor how much they eat and how much they drink.
We debrief anything and everything all the time and wrap them in layers of conversation and hours of quietly doing nothing.
Guard like bull dogs against relational drama, stay responsive to fears and anxieties, look for the reason behind the reaction, and set them up for success in every possible way that we know how.
But, we also push them.
We take the one who won't stick her hand into a bucket of clean water and let her wash slimy dishes in the semi dark. Bring the one who has fallen in love with this place, even though we know that the reentry will break his heart.
We take along kids with every form of anxiety under the sun, and we expect them to function as a dream team because of it and despite it.
On ministry trips we expect them to be grown up enough to handle their own passport and tickets in an international airport; to keep moving forwards when everything that they think they know gets thrown up into the air. Expect them to respond with grace and love and mercy to things that would tip most adults past their breaking point, because...
When they stay up late talking, we stay up with them, watching for that magical moment when they are finally ready for sleep. We let them nap whenever the opportunity presents itself and encourage playfulness and obnoxious songs. Provide food and Band-Aids and aloe. Check up on bug bites and scratches and monitor how much they eat and how much they drink.
We debrief anything and everything all the time and wrap them in layers of conversation and hours of quietly doing nothing.
Guard like bull dogs against relational drama, stay responsive to fears and anxieties, look for the reason behind the reaction, and set them up for success in every possible way that we know how.
But, we also push them.
We take the one who won't stick her hand into a bucket of clean water and let her wash slimy dishes in the semi dark. Bring the one who has fallen in love with this place, even though we know that the reentry will break his heart.
We take along kids with every form of anxiety under the sun, and we expect them to function as a dream team because of it and despite it.
On ministry trips we expect them to be grown up enough to handle their own passport and tickets in an international airport; to keep moving forwards when everything that they think they know gets thrown up into the air. Expect them to respond with grace and love and mercy to things that would tip most adults past their breaking point, because...
THEY ARE GOOD AT THIS:
Somehow, by virtue of being teenagers, by virtue of this Love that has taken up residence in every sinew of their bodies, they are incredibly good at this relationship thing.
Not that it comes easy, but that they go at it with an intensity that has everything to do with an open and willing heart. That our kids are willing to absorb pain and injustice and joy and hope and let it all wash over them in the moments that it comes, without filter and without complaint.
Wait for two days in a city full of strangers just to get a new passport. Ride for bumpy hours on a bag full of soccer cleats or hover over the gap between two seats. Give piggy back rides that rip open blistered sun burns. Clean infected wounds or dance and play on a broken foot.
Our kids love well.
"Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences...to arrive at its destination full of hope." - Maya Angelou
Somehow, by virtue of being teenagers, by virtue of this Love that has taken up residence in every sinew of their bodies, they are incredibly good at this relationship thing.
Not that it comes easy, but that they go at it with an intensity that has everything to do with an open and willing heart. That our kids are willing to absorb pain and injustice and joy and hope and let it all wash over them in the moments that it comes, without filter and without complaint.
Wait for two days in a city full of strangers just to get a new passport. Ride for bumpy hours on a bag full of soccer cleats or hover over the gap between two seats. Give piggy back rides that rip open blistered sun burns. Clean infected wounds or dance and play on a broken foot.
Our kids love well.
"Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences...to arrive at its destination full of hope." - Maya Angelou
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