Why I'm typing by candlelight.

So our 30 Days to 30 Hours kicked off today. If you’re not familiar with 30x30, it is essentially a prep tool for the 30 Hour Famine, an event where our youth group (along with thousands of other youth groups in the country) will spend a weekend fasting to raise money awareness for World Vision, an organization that helps end the cycle of poverty by providing food, education, medicine, and small business start-ups in developing countries. Leading up to our fast, each day we will be giving up a different item to raise our personal awareness of what others deal with on an everyday basis.

So now I am at approximately hour 23.5 of day 1, and the task? Fast from electricity. No biggie, right? I’m a camper. I’m own a flashlight and a headlamp and a couple candles. And of course I get to cheat while I’m at work. The first 10 hours were GREAT. Ok...I was sound asleep. But when that alarm clock went off (battery powered) my brain was wired to send my body straight to the Keurig. Shoot. Ok, instant hot chocolate in the microwave? Still electric. Hmm...boil water on the stove, then make hot chocolate. Dang, that’s electric too! What if I built a fire outside quick and warmed my water on that? True pioneer woman status. Ok, who am I kidding. That’s ridiculous. Starbucks it is. (I’m real impoverished, right?)

Thankful for my large windows and abundant Florida sunshine, I made it though my morning routine without needing to turn on any lights...winning! No shower meant no need to blow dry or straighten either. This isn’t half bad, and I’m ready in five minutes! 

Let’s be real. The day didn’t really get much most difficult from there. It was dark when I got home so I spend the evening by the campfire and when it was time to go inside, lit some candles. I really didn’t have to sacrifice much today. But what is so awesome is that God still had some teachable moments in there.

1. The things I NEED really aren’t NECESSITIES. The instant morning coffee, the straight hair, the obsessive desire for background music...I don’t need it! The 25% of the world without electricity doesn’t even know such luxuries exist. Yet I take all these things for granted. Each and every day I take for granted the ability to sleep with a fan on, make food hot in thirty seconds, or see the stairs I’m walking up. It’s the little things.
2. Going without leaves room for creativity. WOW. This one is HUGE! Normal evening routine? Locked inside my room, tv, Pinterest, puzzle, Facebook, link Facebook led me to, Netflix, laundry, more Facebook, and about 17,000 more links Facebook led me to. No reading. No writing. Nothing outdoors (which is most ridiculous of all, because I LOVE being outside and THIS WEATHER IS AMAZING!!!). But tonight? Instead of iTunes radio, I played the piano. Instead of Gossip Girl, I enjoyed the simplicity of reading a book fireside. Instead of Facebook chat, I invited some friends over and relished in conversations of futures to come and memories shared. It felt peaceful, unrushed...simple.

I want more of that in my life - the creativity, the simplicity, the awareness of luxury in what I take for granted. Life problems are mended and my soul is still when I stare at the flames of a fire. I have room to breathe when I sit in my candle-lit quiet bedroom. The stars outside shine brighter than the computer screen that always seems to be in front of me.

So with that being said...for the last 12 minutes of my day...it’s time for the computer going away. Also I only have 8% battery and certainly can’t charge it till the clock strikes 12! I want to relish in this still night. I’m thankful for this day. The quiet, the change from the norm...it’s cool how God gets us thinking. Poverty is inconvenient. I’ll gladly accept the inconvenience just for a taste. I’m excited for the next 29 days! Who’s with me?!

P.S. Tomorrow night, we sleep on the floor. Get excited!! 

More than Enough

A couple week ago, I blogged about the joy that followed our peace-focused worship stations. This week, we tied the concept of LOVE into peace.

One of the worship stations was to write your complaints in a journal, as a way of giving them up to God and leaving them in the room. My heart broke the next day as I read the journals and was reminded again of the things my students struggle with. I knew I had to address it in my next lesson, which is exactly what I did last night.

God is so cool. I took what the kids wrote and made it rhyme. I took my thoughts, mixed with a few words of Bob Goff's "Love Does"-inspired wisdom, and here's what came out.

Spoken Word: More than Enough - YouTube

Let the kid out.

It's been a rough couple days. The kind of week that makes me SO thankful I'm going on vacation this weekend. And tonight looked like it was going to follow suit. Low attendance, students not paying attention...you know, typical Wednesday night.

We did some creative prayer/worship stations tonight, all centered around the concept of peace. And my night began to shift as I stopped letting external things infect my thoughts, and started intentionally filling my mind with knowledge of that peace that passes understanding.

Then the night ended, or so I thought. But my lesson wasn't over. You know those lyrics "there may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning"? I found that joy follows peace. What happened next was beautiful like unicorns prancing through a field of wildflowers. At least in my mind, that what I looked like as I showed off my best dance moves in the impromptu dance party that broke out.

And ok, let's be honest, me dancing is probably uglier than crocs, but none-the-less, it provided everyone with a great dose of the best medicine - laughter. I recall Andy Mineo, line dancing, square dancing, break dancing, irish jigging, something involving a pole, interpretive ribbon dancing, the Judy, the Katie, the Michael, a couple wigs, a gray jumpsuit, a cape, a creepy mustache, and some neon crop tops. Sounds magical, I know.

But what struck me at the end of it was just what 45 minutes of silly dancing could do for my soul. For that period of time, I didn't care what anyone thought of me. I didn't care that my shirt was riding up and my pants were falling down. I didn't care that I didn't know the lyrics and definitely don't know how to dance. I felt like a kid...innocent, carefree, in it to make everyone laugh and have a good time.

And it was amazing! When was the last time you did something just completely uninhibited, for no reason other than sheer laughter and enjoyment? I think back to Julia's wedding this month, where Taylor and I held hands and skipped through the golf course under the stars. Why? No reason. Other than we did it at the last wedding we went to and will probably do it at the next. It's fun. Why not?

It's like when Beth and I had dinner at the Pate's house, and checked out the backyard. They have REAL grass, like thin, soft, northern grass, not the scratchy kind we're so accustomed to in Florida. We threw ourselves down in it and rolled around, just because. Because it was lovely and lush and felt like home.

At SEU a couple weeks ago I drank water from a sprinkler.
Last week I drew sidewalk chalk pictures all over my driveway.
Last night I had ice cream for dinner.
I played baseball in the backyard.
I drank a kiddie cocktail at the last wedding I went to.
I ran down the sand dunes at Carter Road.
I make up songs with Lou when we clean on Friday mornings.

This weekend I fully intend to jump on hotel beds with my little sister.

And I definitely plan on having more dance parties.

The kid in you needs to come out. In the grown-up world of bills and mortgages and jobs and car insurance, it's so easy to get tied up things that just weigh us down. It's important, but it's not all that's important!

So tonight, tomorrow...invest in some bubbles. Buy Andy Mineo's new album, scour the garage for sidewalk chalk, or borrow my wig collection. Build a fort out of blankets or round up some friends and play kickball. Let's let the kid out and experience some joy together :)

How Zumba and the New Kid Could Change the World

When the last time you did something for the first time? Something new and unknown and potentially awkward? A situation where you weren't in control and didn't really know what was going on?

In my world, that doesn't happen often. But tonight I attended my first-ever Zumba class. It was slightly terrifying. About 45 minutes into this craziness of loud music and more coordination that I can every hope to attain, it dawned on me that I was getting in more than just a good workout - my eyes were being opened to a person in my youth group I don't often think enough about - the new kid. The kid who has heard about our youth group, but has never shown up. The kid who wasn't raised in church, doesn't know his Bible, and doesn't think he belongs in a group of kids who do. The kid who isn't sure how to act, where to sit, or what to do when he leaves.

Tonight...I was that kid. Here's how it goes in five short acts:

Act 1: Roll your windows down and cruise.
It wasn't the first time I'd ever heard of Zumba. It wasn't the first time I'd been invited. It wasn't even the first time I'd had intentions of going. But it was the first time I actually went. I called the BFFL, made sure she'd be there, climbed in the Jeep, and hit the road.

Chances are that new kid has heard of your youth group. He's been invited a time or two, and maybe legitimately planned to go before but didn't make it. But tonight he decided to go to church with the guys, and now he's here, so what?

Act 2: Shake what your mama gave you.
I walked into a room of seventy women, a sea of neon tank tops and spandex pants and hips that don't lie. Yikes. I was extra thankful that BFFL came along. She's attended Zumba at other churches before, but never at this one. We grab a spot in the back of the room and try to keep up. My motha-from-anotha-grandmotha is in the room too, but she heads more toward the front...the last place I want to be when I have no idea what I'm doing. I want to hang in the back where I can watch everyone else, don't have to worry about being seen, and can fake it till I make it. Or break a hip.

That's where the new kid is at, too. A mass of people he doesn't know, dressed in a style other than his own. He's clinging to the one person he knows, and taking everything in from the back of the room where he can see and not be seen.

Act 3: Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah.
So we begin. I feel ridiculous. The only dance I'm familiar with is Dutch clogging, and let's be real, I moved out of Holland when I was 5. I can't see the instructor, so I watch everyone else and try to keep up. Sometimes I've got it, sometimes I could not possibly be more off-beat. I get in the groove and it's fun. Between songs I chat with a few acquaintances I haven't seen in a while. And then we hit about minute 45, and I am DONE....except we still have fifteen minutes left. At this point, my arms are doing their own thing, and all my brain power is concentrating on is how Zumba is like youth ministry, and how that would make a great blog post. Clearly more of a writer than a dancer...

The new kid feels about the same. A little silly, a little unsure, but he's having fun. He's having casual conversation with a few students and feeling a little more comfortable. But then we get to the heart of the message, and he's having a little trouble tracking. He's wondering if he made the right decision in coming tonight. He could have been out skating...

Act 4: Leave some butt sweat on the seat.
Class is over. I'm one of those girls who just can't break a sweat for the life of me, but that is not a problem tonight. I sneak into the back of the congregational meeting going on in the next room. I catch up on all my social media on my phone while the pastor talks, and then I decide to peace out. But oh no, on the plastic seat beneath me...that lovely line of butt sweat. Gross.

The new kid takes off when the night is over, but chances are he's headed somewhere. And maybe where he's going, something the youth pastor said is sticking with him like a pair of sweaty yoga pants on my tush. And when he leaves that place, he's made a mark. He didn't even realize the night impacted him that much, but now there is a seed in his heart that is changing the way he looks at people and places, changing what he does and where he goes.

Act 5: I like to move it, move it.
And so then I get a call from my tall friend. He's going for a run, and I decide to join him. The fact that my five strides equal his one doesn't matter. Zumba kicked my butt, but that's a moot point. I'm dressed for the occasion, the adrenaline is still pumping, and it's a beautiful spring night in Michigan. Let's run.

The fire in the new kid is sparked. Another "churchy" friend calls him up and wants to hang, and this time the new kid is all over it. Whatever it was that just happened felt good, and he wants to feel that again.

When was the last time you did something for the first time? Throwing myself in the world of Zumba served as an encouraging reminder to me of what it's like to be the new kid, and what an impact can be made in his life if we do things right at 901west. I'm probably never going to become a Zumba instructor or run a marathon. But new kid? He might just change the world.

Staying and Stereotypes

Tonight as I was driving home from what feels like my 1000th high school sporting event of the year, I had an amazing conversation with a student. We talked about how just one decision can change the course of your entire life, and how your changed life has the potential to change so many others.

It got me thinking to just what an absolutely crazy blessing it is that I am here, in Florida, doing youth ministry. It's something I ran from for so long, and ultimately God just got through to me. As she got out of the car, she said "I'm just so thankful...that you stayed." There was more in between there, but those words will always stick with me...because I stayed.

STAYING...it's hard sometimes! It's hard when your dream job opens up 1200 miles away and you don't know if you should jump on it or not. It's hard when your family has so much going on and you just want to be near them. It's hard when four out of five of your staff members leave in the same year and you shoulder so much responsibility. It's hard when you feel alone because you're the only single one...the youngest one...the only woman.

And so let's look at that last one for a second - three things that kind of go against the mold of the stereotypical youth pastor. Because the stereotypical youth pastor is a plaid-shirt wearing, video game playing, goatee sporting man with a super hot wife, right? That's what I thought, or at least that's how I feel when I read youth ministry articles and attend conferences.

But then I did a Google search, and I found these youth minister stereotypes listed...
The stereotypical youth pastor...
- has an unorganized office and car
- can't be apart from his iPhone
- is super competitive in sports
- has some hebrew/greek/fish/cross tattoo
- is a constant ten minutes late
- is terrible at responding to emails and voicemails
- never updates the youth page on the church website
- eats half his meals on the church budget (and most are fast food)
- has a frisbee in his trunk

My little research experiment caused me to do some serious self-evaluation. Today I had to empty the fast food wrappers out of my unorganized car before we could drive to staff lunch. And all the junk in the backseat had to move to the trunk, already filled with about every piece of sporting equipment invented. This quick clean caused me to be late, and as I drove I tried to catch up on emails and voicemails on my iPhone. I played tennis with a friend last night so that I can dominate a student when we play next week. And this morning I emailed our IT guy yet again, trying to remember my username and password for the church website. And then there's that star tattoo on my foot...

I realized that maybe I'm not as alone as I thought. Maybe I'm young and single and female, but I can still rock a plaid shirt and Toms like the best of them. I can't play Super Mario for the life of me, but I can work iMovie like no one's business. I don't have a goatee...and that's probably a good thing. And I definitely don't have a super hot wife...but maybe I'll be one someday. 

Pretty much I AM the stereotypical youth pastor...and I'm okay with that. Because in addition to all the surface level things above, and more important than any of them, I share two things that are so much more important: a love and passion for the Lord, and a love and passion for students. 

It's a love and passion I would have never known if not for that one decision six years ago. One decision that changed my life and as a result, so many more lives as well. I'm so thankful for each and every one of these struggle and stereotypes, blessings and joys. Student ministry is a crazy world...but it's my world, and I'm so glad to be a part of it.

And Kandace, I'm glad I stayed too :)

Sometimes I Stink...at Blogging.

Sometimes? Ok...maybe most of the time/all of the time.

Day after day, a blank screen stares at me and I have seemingly nothing to say. Why not? I'm a writer. I'm a thinker. A creative being. Why so shy to blog all of a sudden?

Maybe it's a lack of direction. Originally I wanted to write for those like me - single, young, female, and in youth ministry. But how many of us are there? And how many actually read what I have to say? Do I want to go a funny, satirical, sarcastic route with this blog? Am I writing my deepest thoughts to provoke theological contemplations in the minds of others? Do I share my daily stories in hopes of providing a laugh or giggle? And who is my audience? Am I writing for myself, a therapy of sorts? Am I writing to my youth group, hoping to share some nuggets of inspiration they may not have gotten in a Wednesday night message?

I don't know.

It's so easy to put things off, to come up with excuses. I'll empty the dishwasher tonight. I'll clean the bathroom tomorrow. I'll call my grandparents later this week. I'll return that shirt this weekend. I'll pack for that trip the morning I leave...

Things like that, not such a big deal. But what about when it becomes bigger? I'll invite him to church next Wednesday. I'll volunteer in the Children's Ministry next month. I'll pray before I go to bed tonight. I'll read my Bible when I wake up in the morning.

But what happens in the morning? Nothing. It's like this blog. I'll write it tomorrow. I'll be inspired tomorrow. I'll have something to share tomorrow.

I'll open God's Word tomorrow.

Don't put off until tomorrow what you could do today. I only say it because I am the guiltiest of guilty. But let's just say it's a lesson God has definitely been teaching me lately.

We are told to DELIGHT ourselves in the Lord (Psalm 37:4). How many of us know what it is like to truly delight in Him? Too often I find my delight based in a relationship, an accomplishment, or temporary circumstances. What happens when those earthly things fail? When the relationship ends, when the acclaim dies down, when circumstances change? Where then is my delight?

It comes down to knowing who He is. I read this a while back: "But when we learn who God really is and we base our decisions on a passionate love for Him, we find joy and delight in obedience. We even want to go that extra mile for Him" (Ludy, 65).

I don't know if any of this makes any sense, if it flows or goes together at all. But this is where I am. I want that passionate love, I want to go the extra mile.

Who's with me?

Let's be the Church

Our student ministry meets in a house....at least that's what it looks from the outside. But walk inside and walls are ripped out, carpet is mismatched, furniture is sporadically arranged, and the smell is funky. It was recently described as "ghetto-rific." It's on the property adjacent to our church building, and the youth LOVE it.

We meet in it Wednesday nights for youth group and Sunday mornings for Sunday school. Occasionally the house is home to a lock-in, youth event, or Friday-night fifth quarter, but the majority of the time it just sits there, empty. I've had a dream forever of it being open on weekdays after school for homework and hanging out, and on weekend nights for a safe alternative to what so many high schoolers choose. It's in the works, but in the meantime...

Tonight, a group other that 901west met in it. Young Life set up camp in our space....and it was incredible! I loved the opportunity for "our" little house to get used another night of the week.

One of our staff members asked me last week about the possibility of an adult small group meeting in the house once a week. Absolutely! 

In my mind, it comes down to being a good steward of this space God has given us, and well as embracing a vision to be the Church, emphasis on the capital C. Having a group like Young Life in the house on Monday nights, or a small group on Thursday nights definitely comes with obstacles. Those political, logistical things church leaders LOVE to deal with.

Who's going to be responsible for cleaning it? Who's in charging up opening and locking up? How are we going to pay the extra utilities? Will it interfere with what "our" church needs the building for? Will the trash service collect that much garbage? Do we have a good enough insurance policy?

I say to hell with that. And I don't mean to that to be crass or crude, but I mean it quite literally. I think those are the questions that Satan uses to break up the potential of the Church. Are they things, important things, things that need to be addressed? For sure! But should they define our decisions? Not it we can help it. 

What if sharing space meant that my youth group kids all came to Young Life, and brought with them their amazing ability to build community? And what if the YL kids, looking for a place to be spiritually fed, started attending our youth group on Wednesdays?

What if a member of the small group was in the construction or cleaning or home repair field, and in exchange for use of the building did some volunteer work hooking up our new stove and rewiring some light fixtures?

And beyond that...what if we invited the Spanish church around the block to join in our Upward Football program, and that built relationships leading to using our facilities to teach ESL classes to our neighbors, a vast number of whom are Hispanic?

And in all these situations, what if we didn't "get anything in return?" Alright then! We are still called to serve, to help others, to love. Sometimes our American Christian pride gets in the way. We're selfish. And that's when things become US and OURS! None of it belongs to you or me, it's all God's to begin with. I'd like to make the most with the things God has entrusted to me.

The Christian school gymnasium around the corner, the empty field next door, the family-owned convenience store down the street...the list goes on and on. My mind is racing with possibilities of partnerships, opportunities to be the Church. In February, our Student Ministry is joining with a few others in the area to participate in the 30 Hour Famine. We get to serve (and starve) along with our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. It's students supporting students. It's a church and a church being the Church.

This is the kind of church I want my kids to see. A church that makes the most of every opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I'm pretty sure that back in the day if Jesus wanted to use your backyard to preach a sermon or use your house to host a banquet, you wouldn't worry about if it would kill the grass or dirty your floor or use the last of your food. You would gladly welcome Him in, and all who followed. The rest of the details would work themselves out, because God has a way of providing like that.

So let's partner together. Let's realize that what we do in our lives and churches is so much bigger than just what we do in our lives and churches. What organizations in your community can you join up with? What resources...time, spaces, skills, people...can you share? Not just in organized church, but in personal ministry as well? Can you cook, clean, babysit? Get to it! Let's be the Church.