Youth Group Reconsidered

I’m pro youth. Some of my own kids are youth. I’m not sure, but I think I used to be a youth myself a long, long time ago. In fact, I think most people have to move through youthness before they arrive—if they ever do—at some semblance of adulthood. So it’s probably safe to say that youth is a fact of life.

There are many things I like about youth: the exuberant hope, the marvelously irrational conviction that they will never die, the Zen-like embrace of the present, the envious ability to ignore implications, the boundless energy, the exquisite belief in a world that bows at your feet, and the persuasion that this is the best of all possible times. Youth is a heady cacophony of heroes, hormones, and hedonism—an all-too-brief Golden age that is to be celebrated; and if the Bible is any authority on the subject, youth is also something to be shaped by those who know better.

This post concerns that most precocious of church institutions, the Youth Group. There are many good things about Youth Group, including fellowship, some passable Biblical teaching every so often to keep the charter, and a boatload of relatively harmless, completely meaningless activity that adults need more of. (I’ll take burping contests over political games anytime.) Generally speaking, Youth Group offers kids from Christian homes a place to have some fun away from the bald-faced spirit of antichrist that pervades our culture, something for which their parents are grateful.

Of course there are some very real issues too. Many parents are concerned about what they see as a troubling encroachment into Youth Group by a worldly spirit. Values and practices formerly associated with the “world” have become integral to the fabric of Youth Group identity. Rather than nurturing a sense of holiness, of being set apart from the world for Divine purposes, Youth Group often revels in the attitudes and idols of an irreverent and blasphemous culture. The mandates of Scripture have been reinterpreted by a grace now defined by license rather than Christlikeness. And it often seems that it is the youth themselves who run the Group rather than those who have been given charge for their spiritual welfare.  What is more, for many parents Youth Group functions as a surrogate for their own deliberate involvement in their kids’ spiritual lives.

The result, with notable exceptions, is that the graduates of our Youth Groups, like so many of their parents, are spiritually sincere but also deeply conflicted. They have hearts toward God, but have been given little definitive direction. They have been repeatedly fed the smallest teaspoons of spiritual milk laced with lots of cultural candy, the effects of which are deep cavities in their Biblical, moral, and missional understanding.

Perhaps my biggest concern about the way we do Youth Group is that it can foster a fracture in the practice of family. Most Youth Group activities are designed to be away from Mom and Dad. I realize that kids need to have space to be kids, and I’m not talking about those special activities where parents might function as hosts or chaperons. I’m referring to the overarching Youth Group paradigm that assigns (though not explicitly) the central organizational responsibility for the youths’ spiritual development to outside the home. Youth Group often seems to compete with parents for their children’s attention, interaction, and filial allegiance. And when Youth Group has all the bells and whistles, the concerned parent can come across as an obstacle to fulfillment rather than a loving guide to lasting spiritual fruit.

If we must have our “youth pastors” (a trend that begs the question as to youth as an incompatible and separate spiritual “species”), I would love to see them spend more of their time figuring out ways to facilitate parent/youth interaction. I would love to see them direct the youth toward their parents by fostering at home gatherings, helping equip parents to input more effectively the lives of their children, and nurturing in the youth a desire to grow in the Lord with their parents rather than a desire to escape them.

Mostly, I wish to erase the culturally driven, Youth Group sanctioned divide between parent and child, a divide the Scriptures neither condone nor recognize. I would love to see parents and youth able to stand on the same ground in their relationship with God. This will require a major reassessment by parents of their real role in their kids’ spiritual lives. It will require churches to turn away from fostering our youth as a separate spiritual culture. It will require that parents lovingly impart to their own children the God-gifted distinctives of each family unit.

I firmly believe that God has given me my particular kids because he has entrusted to me something he wants me to entrust to them. If not, they would have been born to somebody else. Even I—though one of the most opinionated people on the planet—would never presume to tell other Christian parents how to raise their kids. I appreciate the efforts of churches to provide for our youth, but they cannot give to them what only God has given me to impart. I do not offer my children to the template of another’s values and practices, even if they are far more entertaining. If we can grasp this, and respond fully to it, then Youth Group will become what it should be, an adjunct to the home fires. Until then, I guess, it’s up to parents to rise to the call.

Go against the flow, my friends.

U-conography

Iconic images have always been important in the church, reaching a zenith of significance and artistry during the high Middle Ages and early Renaissance. Images carry emotional content in ways that the written word does not, and though I’m primarily a word person, I deeply appreciate the visual image for its potential power and beauty. Sometimes the image has more immediate impact and conveys greater nuance than written words can achieve. Images can communicate core meaning quickly by suggesting as much as explaining.

The images, fonts, and background texture that make up the U-Church blog header were carefully chosen and rendered to reflect the “spirit” of this endeavor and, as such, compliments our value emphases discussed here. I thought it would be interesting to elaborate a bit on the visual elements of our header and how we hope they somehow suggest U-Church’s perspective. Scriptural references are inferred, but you’ll have to look them up yourself if you’re interested.

First, on the left, is the rather strange image of a man who is wearing a kind of clerical collar and a halo over his eyes. He is dropping a piece of paper into the slot of a locked box. This box suggests that the slip of paper is either a ballot or suggestion. The whole image has an antique feel with its rough edges and scratched surface.

The collar and halo, as in traditional iconography, suggests sainthood, but, in this case, of a decidedly quirky kind. The halo, which implies holiness, seems too big for him because it has slipped down over his head—or did he put it on that way? Either way, the halo is still shining even though it is clownishly displayed. Has the halo obscured the man’s vision or corrected it? Maybe it’s all a matter of perspective. At any rate, he seems able to fit the paper in the slot. And what about that paper and box? Whatever is on the paper, it must be important to the man. He is submitting it (blindly?) into the box to be counted (ballot) or at least considered (suggestion). Clearly the paper is meant for someone else’s eyes. The box, however, is plainly locked. Nobody, not even the man himself, can violate the sanctity of this mysterious “ark” of exchange. Once the man inserts his input, it is subject to laws and forces beyond his personal caprice. And yet, the man’s actions suggest he can trust the process, even though the picture implies his profound ignorance of anything beyond his rather limited capacities. On the whole, it’s a rather humorous image of human limitation and faith. It might even be considered pessimistic if it were not for the buoyant portrait on the far right.

Facing our idiosyncratic saint is one of the most recognizable portraits in the Western world. It’s a detail from Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel around 1511. Here is the imagined face of God, swirling with creative energy and wholly attentive to his creation. His eyes are fixed in artistic concentration and his countenance radiates joy. He is both fatherly and enigmatic, approachable and elusive. Above all, his face reveals that his creation matters to him. He is engaged.

In the header, God’s attention is riveted on our clownish man. There is no hint of displeasure in the awkward saint before him. He seems delighted in the man and vitally interested in what the man is doing. Is it for him that the man’s slip of paper is meant? Is he the one who unlocks the box? In God’s divine, loving gaze the bumbling saint—even with his persistent imperfections—is transfigured as the object of God’s robust pleasure. This is inexplicable, irreducible grace.

Between the images of saint and God flares our name and “slogo.” The roiling, flame-like background bridges the gap and functions artistically as the connection between the them. U-Church is what unifies what would otherwise be two distinct and separate images. U-Church is the interaction of the saint and his God, but it does not define either of them, The two images on either side define the center frame. In this way, the header forms a kind of triptych, a tree-part image that conveys a story or spiritual reality. The font used for U-Church is a bit scuffed as if from rough and tumble use, but the symbol of its redemption is clearly visible, a treasure in a font of clay. Just beneath floats our slogo, rendered in outlines, which suggests our expectations about this strange and audacious experience.

Altogether, the header serves as our own little icon. As such, it signifies the often exciting, though many times mysterious character of our collective relationship with God. If you’re not into icons, that’s okay. We don’t genuflect before our header anyway. Still, since we don’t have a cathedral to speak of, it’s the next best thing to a stained glass window.

The Measure of Success

Success has ruined many a man.
—Benjamin Franklin

Over the years I have noticed that the biographical blurbs for the keynote speakers at most Christian conferences include a phrase something like this: “Pastor of the 7000-member Really First Church.” The idea, of course, is that one of the important factors validating the speaker’s credibility and authority is that he or she has a big church—in fact, a much bigger church than you do. Rarely, if ever, will you see a conference heralding somebody who is not the head of a large group or has not won wide acclaim through books or music.

On one hand this makes sense, I suppose. Conferences trade in attendance and admission fees; we are not likely to pay to see an unknown. Besides, why would I care to hear somebody talk about something for which he has little to show? No thanks.

And yet there is something troubling about our implied “standards” of excellence. There is no doubt that, as far as American church culture is concerned, bigger is better. Though we may not say it aloud, we regard the pastor of a church of 5,000 with greater esteem than we do one of 50. More than that, we may even suspect that the pastor of a smaller church either lacks spiritual gifts or is wanting in other areas. I myself have concluded this about small-timers, thinking that if they were good, they’d have a big congregation.

Considering that we’ve just launched U-Church—which can only be described as a nano-congregation—it might seem gratuitous for me to talk about this. The truth, however, is that over the years I’ve often wondered about our American veneration of the big and how it obscures and even discourages the profound value of the faith-fueled small. It also defines kingdom success by the aims of capitalism in which amassing resources is the highest good.

This is not to say that the kingdom of God should not grow in either numbers or spiritual “capital” (read: grace); if the lost aren’t added to the fellowship of believers, something is profoundly amiss. Yet it seems to me that growing in numbers or resources is—or ought to be anyway—a by-product rather than a product. Perhaps the real success is simply faithfulness. Maybe that’s all it ever is.

God I hope so.