Into the VOID: American Young Adults

Today I was praying for some of our young adults down in FL. Then it hit me; I never really put into words how important I believe that Young Adult Outreach/Ministry truly is.

The statistics are in, and they are very scary. 6 out of 10 people starting from the age of 15 will leave the Church permanently or for an extended period.

Just sit and think about that for a second. 60%.

More than half of the kids in your youth group. Yes. Even the really active ones.

Truth?

I am one of them.

Although Shanon and I are both active in the Church today, I for one, am part of the 60%, because I left the church from about 17-until 22.

Let me explain the "void" a bit further.

The American Church by design has been set up to engage all people, regardless of age. Mostly.

Starting with the Nursery, babies are cared for, sung to, and nurtured into the care of the Church. Next, Children's Church teaches songs, does arts and crafts, and teaches short Bible stories. Next you have Jr/Sr high ministry, which can mean so many different things. Youth are usually engaged in a more edgy and raw way, encouraged to dig deeper into spirituality, and for 60% of us, plant the seeds that carry us through the rest of our lives.

Then, there is this void.

"I am now too old to be a part of the youth ministry, but yet I am still too young to hang with couples, or small families, or older folks. I'm not ready to be that "old" yet. Where do I go?"

This void lasts, sometimes until marriage, kids, mortgage, or at least until I have something to talk to the young Father's about.

And why do people walk away?

Here are some answers I have obtained since working with youth/young adults.

DOUBT - Young people have doubts. They are asked hard questions. They are engaged with new Collegiate studies that push their boundaries and understanding.

RELEVANCY - Being Bombarded through social media, electronics, friends, hobbies, college, jobs, makes it hard for a young adult to come to a place and hear a sermon. Most of the time sermon's that they don't find themselves identifying with. Besides, "I have taken two college science courses by now, and I am starting to view things a bit differently. But there is no one I trust to talk to."

EXCLUSIVITY - Some young people feel like they have to choose between their friends and their faith. "There doesn't seem to be any tolerance whatsoever for the things I see and deal with every day."

This is just scratching the surface.

Where does your church stand in this void? How does your church engage youth once they "age out" of the youth group?

How can you help?

ALL of these, are excellent questions.

The 60% is depending on you.

FABRICS.....Threads.......

Music has been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. My Sisters and Parents have told me stories of how even at a very young age I would sing my own songs on the couch, sometimes in protest of my Mom not letting me play outside and things of that sort. ( I was punk rock from the start...lol)

Let me stop you here. I have not been a mystical person. Ever. I am generally turned off or away from people when they start reading too much into things and begin to think every single solitary thing that happens is somehow divine and telling them something. I'm not there.

Music has threaded it's way through my life. Somehow music has been the thread that forms the fabric surrounding my memories, and moments in time. I'm not sure why, but there are just some songs that take me back to a very specific place and time in my past. Some of these moments are fond occasions that bring a smile to my face. Some of these moments are painful. Some are yet both.

Where can I start this thread? This song has weaved it's way through so much of the last 5 years of my life.

I do not recall the first time that I heard the song called "How he Loves". But what I do recall, is that it spoke volumes to me. It immediately was stuck in my head, and became one of my all-time favorite worship songs.

For the last month, we have been praying for affirmation. The transition to Michigan has been trying, and things have not gone anywhere near close to planned. Not even a little bit. We found ourselves in a place where we began to question if we had perhaps fallen out of step with God's plan. We began to wonder if we had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

So we began to pray. Nothing specific. Just that God might begin to show us that we are where he wants us.

In a conversation about two weeks ago, Shanon and I talked about friends. She was telling me how she had been missing one of our friends in FL, and even though they still text from time to time, they felt so far away. I remember telling her specifically that I really didn't think I had been very close with anyone since my brother Darrell died. Since that bond was broken, I had just kind of floated along. We both shed some tears and went to bed.

(That's Darrell on the right =)

The last time I was able to spend time with my brother Darrell, was just after he had went into HOSPICE care at my mother's house. On my final evening in town, I was able to borrow an acoustic guitar from a friend, and we had this awesome time of worship together. I think a couple of my sisters were there as well. He sang along with me to "How he Loves". He even asked me to play it again.  I will never forget this night, the songs we sang, and the time we spent in prayer before I had to get in a car and drive 1200 miles away. 

The Sunday after Darrell passed away, I and two of my sisters attended Darrell's Church. It seemed fitting. Wouldn't you know it, "How he Loves" was the last song that the worship band played that morning. My sisters and I, standing with our arms on each other's shoulders, rocked back and fourth and belted that song out at the top of our lungs. It was a beautiful moment that I will never forget. 

Snap forward to a week ago. My son Alex and I were at one of our friends houses, we had done some work for them that evening. While we were there, somehow we got on the subject of my brother. I shared about some visions and dreams I had had, back when he was alive. It was a great talk. 

Well before long, her husband came home. As I approached him I saw his shirt, and for a moment I almost broke into tears. This is what he was wearing: 

 

Now, this shirt is kind of a big deal. Darrell had made this shirt semi-famous in the family. So much so that after he passed away, I made a special trip to his daughter, so she could have it. I had never seen ANYONE wear this shirt besides my brother. Could this be God telling me something? On the way home, we heard "How he Loves" on the radio. We also heard that John Mark McMillan (songwriter) was coming in concert to a church the next town over from us. weird, right? 

Later on I read the thread on a picture that Joe's wife had posted of Alex and I helping them out. A couple of the responses used the word "family". Could this be God responding to the conversation that Shanon and I had? 

We continue to pray. God show us that we are in the right place. 

So yesterday, (Friday), I get a message on facebook from our Pastor. "Hello Steve, someone contacted me wanting to bless your family, is it ok for me to give them your phone number? Good people :)"

So naturally I say, ok. 

I tell Shanon what Pat messaged, and we both kind of looked at each other. We began to speak of vegetables, it's the harvest time of year here, maybe someone had veggies for us. Maybe someone made us dinner? The suspense was killing us. 

So my phone rings. On the other end is a man named Chuck. He is a friend of a friend, and they have an extra car they don't need. After praying about it, they thought they should give it to us........yeah. He seriously said that. I didn't even know what to say. What do you say to something like that? Besides thank you???!!!

So Chuck and his wife Pam come over today. This is not a old rag tag car. This is a car they could have sold and got a bit of money for. Incredible. They stay for almost an hour, they pray with us for us and the car, and I swear to you, they left as old friends. Not strangers. Seems like we have known them for years. 

Perhaps God is telling us something, yes? 

So after they leave, I go to move the car from where it was parked. 

I start it up, and I hear......

Thank you God, for affirming we are where we are supposed to be. Thank you God for always giving us what we do not deserve. 

Thank you God, for the fabrics. 

"Real" Moments

Many times in my life, I have found myself in places that could be best described as “real”. This is not to say that there are not other ways to describe them. Perhaps a better picture of the “real” I’m speaking of is needed.

            “Real” situations would be those times where something happens, and then all falsehood, all fake-ness, all misrepresentations, all of the lies, all of the things we hide, all of that stuff, falls to the floor, and we find ourselves completely transparent.

            In the early summer of 2006, my brother Darrell called me at work, telling me that he and his wife Heather were at the hospital. Heather had gone into early labor, the staff had told them that the baby was in distress, and they weren't being told exactly what to do next. I went to the hospital to be with them. After a night of more questions than answers, waiting, and lots of horrible coffee, in an instant the heartbeat on the monitor stopped.

I left the room, and the baby was delivered. The nurse finally gave me permission to go back in the room. When I opened the door, Darrell was standing at the window, in the bright light of the morning, with a ruffled baby blanket in his arms. His daughter Katie was inside. The room was quiet. It seemed like everything had slowed down. There were no words. This moment was so “real”.

            In June of 2012, I stood in the same delivery room. In my mind all I could think about was all the conversations I would have with Shanon about having babies. We would hear a news story about someone abandoning a baby or horrible things that were done to babies. We would get so mad. Why? Why would God let those people have babies but we couldn't? My palms were sweaty. I thought about Darrell, and how crazy everything was the last time I was here. Everything felt like it was slowing down. I was handed a ruffled baby blanket, and inside was my son, Andrew. My eyes welled up with tears. There were no words. This moment also, was “real”.

            When I was in 10^th Grade, My Dad showed up at lunchtime in the cafeteria. I knew something was up, because my Mom worked there and she was not running the register like normal. The look on Dad’s face was not a good one. I remember knowing something was bad by the look on his face. He pulled me aside and let me know that my Uncle Bill (my Mom’s brother) had passed away in Chicago. I can still remember how the brick wall I was leaning against felt on my shoulder. I had just recently begun to have rapport with him. Dad wanted to take me home, but I told him I wanted to stay at school. I guess it just hadn’t hit me yet. I sat down at my usual table, and I must have had a weird look because everyone was asking me if I was ok. After a few minutes I got up and walked home. On the walk home, it seemed like everything slowed down. Up until this point, I had never fully felt grief. Not close like this. There were no words. As the leaves were blowing off the trees in their various colors, I seemed to walk between them. This walk home was “real”.

            In February of 2001, I stood at an alter and watched a beautiful girl in a white dress walk down the aisle towards me, and take my hand in marriage. I had never thought this day would come for me. Even some of our closest friends at this point said that this was a bad idea, and that we wouldn't last. This had to have been the most nervous I had ever been in my life. But somehow, as we stood there, I looked into her eyes, and I just new everything was going to work out. The hair on the back of my neck kept standing up, and I found my mouth to be remarkably dry. I felt like I was living someone else’s life. They announced us as man and wife, and it seemed like time stopped. I looked at Shanon as she was looking back at me, and I just knew. As we walked back up the aisle together, I couldn't help but stare at her. There were no words.

Everyone experiences moments like these at some point. These moments are more special to me because of the realness. The transparency. The human being at its most bare and raw form. The things that weigh the most can’t be weighed. We all share this experience; of knowing that the moment we are in has more “depth” than meets the eye. More weight than normal. We know that things will not be the same after these moments pass.

We are all spiritual beings. Of this I am sure. Our sensory capabilities go so much farther than the simple sight, taste, smell, touch, and sound. In our moments of grief, joy, excitement, wonder, love, heartbreak, and sorrow, we find that we experience all of these without the five senses. We were designed to experience these things. In these “real” places, God is closer than ever. At least, it seems so. In these “real” places, it is so incredibly easy to see and feel the hand of God in them.

We are all connected on some spiritual level. We all feel tragedy. All of us at our deepest levels long for truth and justice. We are made to experience God. We were made to experience Him on so many different levels. The more real and transparent we become, the more we are able to experience God and all he has for us.

Get “real” with God.