Youth Skeet Shooting
Since we moved from Alabama to North Carolina, we’ve heard one line over and over. As soon as we tell people where we’re from, the immediate response from nearly every person is, “Alabama [said in a VERY slow country accent], y’all are real country down there.” We usually laugh the comment off and simply ignore it (even if we complain later when it’s just Courtney and me).
As soon as we began working at the church we’re now at, the kids in the youth group said the same thing. The real irony of this is that these are the kids who wear camo jackets and bright orange hats to church (not on Sunday morning, of course…..), hunt every week during deer season (guys and most of the girls), attend a high school whose colors are John Deer green and yellow (and no, this is not simply coincidental), and ride their four wheelers to church. In the spring, one of our girls brought her mounted deer head to church to show everyone, since she just got it back from the taxidermy. We did a video scavenger hunt last Christmas, and split the kids into three cars. One of their activities was to have everyone in your group tell their favorite Christmas memory on camera. Every person in every group, without any interaction between the groups, said their favorite Christmas memory was when they got a four wheeler (pronounced “fo willa”).
So now, when people says things like, “Alabama, y’all are country down there,” we simply reply, “We had to move to North Carolina to find people who drive four wheelers to church.”
Well, Sunday night we had a great new experience along these lines. A family in the church offered to have a cookout and bonfire for the youth, so I gladly agreed. They have a beautiful house on a pond, and the fall colors were amazing. We arrived and hung out for a few minutes, then the father invited all the kids to go skeet shooting. The kids didn’t simply agree, they were fighting for the chance to shoot. It was the most excited I’ve seen them about any activity we’ve done.
We all shot. I used a shotgun for maybe the second time in my life. Courtney shot a gun for the first time ever. After the guns were too hot to shoot anymore, the boys decided to play football in the field where the cows roam. When I informed them that it might not be the wisest idea to play full contact football in a field full of cow pies, they informed me that was the best part.
It was a fun filled night, to say the least. We all had fun, even if it was a bit….er….different from what I might have expected. Again, we had to come to North Carolina to find a youth group that shot skeet as a youth outing. Only here would my wife have been peer pressured into shooting a gun. Only here was playing full contact football, in the dark, in a field full of cow manure a fun thing. Oh, the entertaining joys that ministry sometimes brings.
Side Note: I told the kids that they better hope McCain wins so we can continue to have youth activities. Sorry, just couldn’t resist a little election day humor.
The Saddest Thing in Seminary
This is my third year at Southeastern. It’s been and interesting time, to put it lightly. I’ve seen a lot and heard a lot. Some of it has been good and some of it has been bad. Some things exceed your expectations, and some things are serious letdowns. In the past few weeks, I’ve really begun to see what has, so far, been the biggest letdown of all.
I wrote just a few days ago about someone complaining that I wore sandals to church. I just had the meeting tonight, and it was less than enjoyable. I’ll spare the gory details, but it simply illustrates what has become the biggest letdown in all of seminary.
You see, if you’ve never been to seminary, this wonderful thing happens. You study the Bible and you study what great men and women have said about the Bible. You develop a sense for what certain things should be like–particularly the Church. You see the high calling the Church has been given, and the great price that was paid for Her. You get a sense of vision for what the Church can do both in Her meetings and in Her mission. You learn how to teach and preach and how to study the Scriptures. You learn that these things can be passed on to other believers. After a while, you begin to really believe Jesus’ words in Matthew 16, that the gates of Hell will not prevail against Jesus’ Church.
But then the inevitable happens. You actually go to church. You see how far the vision is from the reality. You trade in study of the Scriptures for administration. You trade the meat of those Scriptures for milk. You trade in your biblically based idea of discipleship for our notion of discipleship as people sitting and paying half attention (at best) to the sermon that you didn’t have time to really work on in the first place. You trade in caring for orphans and widows for trying to keep the elite at bay. You trade in notions of church leadership for a deacon board that functions like a board of directors. You trade in the Bible for the by-laws. But most importantly, you trade in contending for the faith, and receive back petty infighting.
I constantly ask myself, “How?” How did we ever manage to fall from such great expectations and exhortations to such pitiful and pathetic practices? How have we managed to let ourselves go? I’m not the least bit surprised that 75% of churches in America have either plateaued or are declining. I’m not sure I want to be part of the church sometimes. Here I am, trying to organize a food drive to help restock the local food pantry, and instead, I’m having to have a meeting over sandals. I wake up on Sunday morning to teach and/or preach, but my mind can’t focus on these things because I’m so concerned that my choice of clothing might offend people.
My heart is absolutely broken at this point. The kids in this group have been incredibly frustrating at times. They literally and intentionally acted like jerks for the first few months we were there, just to be cute (they told us this recently). All but one or two are so enamored with the things of this world that there is no discernible difference, save that they actually attend church.. Yet, these situations bring me more compassion for them. My heart is broken for them because I know why they are so spiritually apathetic–they have great role models in this regard. In fact, I think the church and their parents are fortunate the kids are no worse than they are. My heart breaks to think that this church, who just heard a sermon on how our gathering is in decline in almost every area, will continue to go downhill if these are our most important concerns. In fact, the bad news sermon about the decline of our church will look like good news in a few years.
So that’s it. The saddest thing in seminary is actually going to church. To quote one of my favorite artists: “The questions rise, the expectations fall in light of it all.”
Victoria Osteen Article
Found an interesting article about Victoria Osteen and her new book.
Highlights of the article include Victoria telling Joel she thought he’d be a spiritual giant, Victoria’s advice to submit to your husband, or at least pretend like it until you get what you want, and the author of the article–Lisa Miller–asking of Osteen’s book, “What has God got to do with it?”
My First Complaint!!!
It finally happened. Courtney and I have been attending this church for just over a year, and I have been the “youth pastor” for 11 months now. I finally received my first complaint. At the end of the summer, our personnel committee (the chosen ones who get to choose the “staff”) did evaluations for all 4 staff members. They sought people out, asking them to evaluate us and give us their comments and concerns. Not one complaint. Our personnel committee meets once a month, every month since before we arrived. In a year’s time, no complaints.
But that’s all changed now. I have now been complained about. I have an official meeting with the personnel committee next Wednesday night to discuss “the complaint.” Serious matter, no doubt. So what’s the complaint? Oh, it’s a doozy. My first official complaint is that I wear sandals to church. GASP!!!!!
Let me paint a picture for you. When the church first called me to interview, I intentionally wore jeans, an untucked polo shirt and sandals. I wanted the members of the committee, the pastor, and the lay members sitting in to know who they were getting. I went like this to every interview. We attended for two months before being voted on. With the exception of one Sunday, I wore this same type of outfit every week. As previously stated, we’ve been there for just over a year, and in approximately 55 Sundays, I’ve probably worn jeans or khakis, an untucked shirt and sandals 45-50 of them.
I recently (maybe 3 weeks ago?) preached a sermon about the foci of the church–everything we do as a response to the gospel and/or an effort to further the mission of God. I talked about the things that distract us from that–I specifically mentioned unwritten, unspoken dress codes. The week after my sermon, our pastor gave what you might call a “state of church address.” He showed where every aspect of the church has been declining–except Wednesday night Bible study (for adults) and the youth numbers (ironically enough), which have both increased. His call was to get to the bottom of the problem and begin to focus on ministering to people–specifically those in the community.
And now, in light of all that, and after a year of me doing this same thing (wearing sandals), someone complains about my wearing sandals. And it’s not just anyone. It would be one thing if it was a random person, or someone who was disconnected from the church. But it’s not. It was the chairman of deacon’s wife (who, by the way, wore sandals last week–two days before she officially brought the complaint to the personnel committee).
I must say, part of me is perturbed by this, and part of me finds humor. But for the most part, I am deeply saddened. We have a church in decline and a community in need (the local food bank has such a high need that they are completely out of food), and all someone can concern themselves with is someone wearing sandals? I’ve preached a handful of sermons, led church prayer time several times, taught the youth in Sunday School and on Wednesday nights for a year, and led a couple of dozen youth activities, and all someone could complain about is sandals? I wish someone would be upset about something I preached to the church or taught the youth. I would love to open that type of conversation. I would love for someone to be concerned with a youth activity–one I did or one I neglected to do. I would love to have that type of feedback on what people thought was best for the teenagers.
The Bible speaks so highly of the beautiful Bride of Christ. What a high calling we’ve been given and a marvelous hope we have! How I wish we wouldn’t forsake it for such trivialities, for such pettiness. Why have people left the church, and why are people not coming (my church, as well as some 300,000+ others in America)? I sincerely doubt it has anything to do with the unspoken Sunday morning dress codes.
Or maybe it does. In fact, I’m sure of it. The reason people are leaving churches and not coming back is because we have chosen to concern ourselves with such petty little matters. When we forsake our high calling to participate in the mission of God and to celebrate what God has done and will do, for a concern over transgressions of the church dress code (or numerous other issues), we have forsaken our calling and duties as the Body of Christ. How I pray that we could refocus our attention and efforts to something of actual importance!
About
I am 26, married to the greatest woman of all time, a student at seminary (for better or worse), a youth pastor and a security guard. Currently residing in Franklinton, NC. Love my mac, a good book, sitting on the beach or in the mountains–as long as I can get away from people. But most importantly, I try to love and follow Jesus Christ with everything about me. I fail, fall, stumble, and even give up at times. But, it’s a challenge in a good way, and I consider myself blessed and honored that Jesus Christ came to save sinners, of which I am the worst.
