I'm finding it hard to gather my thoughts from the past few days. What do I want to say? What do you want to hear? How do I tell stories so that they matter and aren't just words on a page? I guess none of that matters much to the people in the stories, though.
I spent the first half of this week in New Orleans with my sweet youthies (Calvary + Plum Grove, so CalvGrove, Plumvary, whatever we decided to call ourselves) on a mission trip. For the past three years, I have had the joy of working and living alongside of these teenagers and their families. They are a huge part of my story and of my ability to go on the Race. They inspire me and teach me everyday, and this week was no different.
Life in youth ministry hasn't always been easy. Correction: it's never been easy. Most of the time you feel like everyone is pitted against you. This week, again, was no different. But every painful step of this journey with my kiddos has been worth it.
As I sit hundreds of miles away from my kids tonight, I realize that in a few months I won't be able to just shoot them a quick text like I've done today. It breaks my heart, but I'm finding even more joy than I am sorrow – the same joy I felt as I hugged them goodbye for the next few days as I left New Orleans. I'm sad that I'm not there walking alongside of them to serve in Nola, and I'm sad that I won't be here to walk through this next year of life with them. But as I left them in New Orleans yesterday, there was an unmistakable joy because I knew all would continue on without me. Joy, because their work would continue and the Gospel would continue moving forward. I know that as I write this, they are experiencing God through experiencing life and community together. They are worshipping through serving and serving by worshipping. And I know that as I move forward in the coming months, their faith will continue to grow and the Lord will continue to work. Because that is what will glorify Him and that is what He's after. That knowledge brings joy that overcomes any sorrow I feel about leaving.
I could pat myself on the back and say I've taught them well, or congratulate myself for a job well done. Truthfully though, they are the ones who have taught me well and have allowed me to keep a "job" that continually highlights my weaknesses (and teaches me to celebrate and lean into them more than I'd like). I have learned the importance of simply walking alongside of others rather than running out in front of them. Sometimes doing so means letting them determine the direction of the journey, but in that, I also discover that they have something to teach me.
They have taught me that all I can really do is to tell the jagged story of my own spiritual journey and declare that my life has been changed for the better for having followed Christ. They have taught me the need for intentionality in relationships. They have taught me how to invest and pour out. They have shown me what faithfulness looks like. They are the ones who deserve the congratulations for sticking with the ministry through all that it's been through.
Monday night, I took a second to step back and look at the kids standing before me. I let tears fill my eyes as I took time to really look at each of them. I look at this group and I see a community that has scars, bruises and tired eyes – but eyes full of hope and love. I look at this group and I see the faces that were the only reason I could get out of bed back in the fall. I look at this group and truly see Jesus. And I hope you guys are reading that and take it seriously – because you need to know it.
Because of my kiddos and their families, I am able to head out in September. Three days in New Orleans with them brought up my selfish desires to stay at home, but it dispelled any doubt I had about the fact that I was going to go.
Because of the way my kids have shown me Jesus (this week and over the past three years), I can show others a more accurate picture of the One who has won my heart. And that is a greater gift than I?could have ever asked for.
