Adapt or Lay Awake at Night

You have to be able to adapt.

Sometimes things don’t go as planned.  In fact, usually they don’t.  Are you the kind of person that gets uptight if your ducks don’t walk in row?  Because it seems like, in youth ministry (at least in my youth ministry) the ducks never walk in the row to which they have been assigned.

One thing I have learned as a tried and true principle in my ministry –write it all in pencil…and make sure you have a good eraser.

This year, we decided to do something we’ve never done before.  We actually took our students tent camping for one night of our summer camp experience.  I hear your incredulity – ‘you’ve never been camping?!’ – ‘is there any other kind of camping besides tent camping?!’ – ‘why only one night of camping – are you a pansy?!’

Yes – yes to all!!  I’ve never taken teenagers camping.  There are LOTS of other types of camping that do not include sleeping on rocks and pooping in holes.  And, yes, thanks for noticing – I am definitely a pansy.  My idea of roughing it is running out of towels at the Holiday Inn!  But, alas, because I love my students and they begged me – we decided to give them ONE night of tent camping to start off our summer camp experience.

At about 2 AM, Mountain Time, I realized I would have to adapt to survive the evening.

I don’t know if you know this about me – but I am what most grandmothers call ‘husky.’  Most teenagers call it fat.  I call it preparation for being lost in the wilderness after tent camping.

I don’t know if you know this, either.  Most sleeping bags are not made for ‘husky’ guys.  I was trying to sleep on a self-inflatable pad (that didn’t have very good self-esteem apparently) in a sleeping bag that was a size and a half too small for a husky guy.  I would dose for about ten minutes and then awake as some part of me either fell off the pad onto the hardened ground or slipped out of my straight-jacket called a sleeping bag.

Finally – in the middle of the night and to the symphonic sounds of coyote calls – I finally decided I needed to adapt if I was to sleep a wink.

I unzipped my sleeping bag so it was the biggest comforter I’d ever seen (yes, even big enough for a husky guy), positioned my self on my flate-less inflatable mat in the most comfortable position I could muster – and slept deeply and soundly until morning.

Now what’s the point of all the TMI?  There are times in ministry when things just don’t go as planned.  Someone throws a monkey-wrench in the carefully-thought-out mix of your ministry ideal.  Equipment doesn’t work to its potential or for its intended use.  You step WAY outside your comfort zone only to find it’s VERY uncomfortable there.

You can spend the entire night resisting adaptation – trying to force square pegs into round holes (husky guys into slender bags).  Or you can simply adapt.  You can adjust to the circumstance.  You can show your students how to make the best of a bad situation.  You can get a good, deep sleep in the midst of coyotes.

Youth ministry, of all professions, is about adaptation.  We adapt to trends.  We adapt to everyone else’s calendar.  We adapt our eating habits, sleeping styles, and musical tastes – all in an effort to love God by loving students.

So the next time things go awry in your ministry – your mattress doesn’t inflate, your sleeping bag is too small, or the coyotes are singing the wrong song – remember…you can adapt.  You can sleep well.  You can find Jesus EVEN in the midst of tent camping.

Darren is a veteran youth pastor in Corpus Christi, TX, and the co-host of Mi Podcast – a weekly podcast for parents of teenagers. (www.facebook.com/MiPodcast)

Get In The Water

This summer our students spent a week in Colorado hiking, rappelling, climbing, and rafting.   It was an amazing adventure experience – especially for our ministry, located at sea level,      with warm gulf water and sand dunes – to see God through the glory and grandeur of the Rocky Mountain range.

The first day there, we suited up for our eight mile hike.  The air was crisp and clean.  The fragrant mountain breeze cooled us, seemingly at our every request, as we hiked.  The trees provided a glorious canopy of shade since most of us felt even closer to the sun than usual.  The landscape was nothing short of miraculous.

Trees towered.  Pine needles blanketed the ground.  Boulders beckoned the weary to rest.  This landscape was so very foreign to beach dwellers.

Equally alien were the rushing rivers and streams.

Living on the beach, we are no strangers to powerful water.  There is nothing more soothing, relaxing, calming than the sound of the ocean as it meets the beach, each time as though it were the first time.  But this water was different.

Watching it rush through its designated route, I couldn’t help but think about God.

This water was powerful.  Pulling large stones from their hiding places.  Making rough edges smooth.  Sometimes creating a difficult route for fish to get where they thought they should be.

This water was renewing.  As I watched its mighty flow, it was obvious that what was in the water where I sat just a moment ago was now far downstream.  It made me wonder how much change the bank had seen as it sat silently watching the river-friend work its renewal.  Microbes swept away in the rushing current.  Tress that used to be upstream relocated downstream.  Silt carpeting the river bottom that once belonged to the mountain.  The water changes everything.

And then I thought about my students – seeing this kind of water, some for the very first time.  There was no doubt they could see its power – its renewing properties…even from far away.  At times, we were so far up the mountain that the stream looked like a ribbon of white flowing through the valley.  But you could hear the power in its voice as it sang its song to nature.  When we got close enough to sit at the water’s edge, there was no denying its powerful force as it rushed to its final destination.

And it broke my heart.  As I listened to the majestic water’s roar, watched it change everything in its path, I realized a devastating truth.

The water doesn’t really work if you don’t get in.  I am praying that my students experience the refreshing, renewing, life-giving water from a personal, intimate vantage point.

It is one thing to recognize how beautiful and glorious the rushing water is from the safety of shore.  It’s a completely different matter to allow the current to sweep you away – smoothing your rough edges – changing the direction you thought you were going – renewing everything.

I am praying that our students experience THAT kind of water – the deafening roar of life anew – the panic of going in a completely different direction than planned – life-altering, life-giving, living water.  I want them to know THAT kind of water long after we return to the beach waters of the gulf.