Sunday Mornings

Waking up when I'm rested, not to an alarm clock. Making an absurd amount of coffee and drinking it slowly. Getting out of my pajamas sometime around noon. Writing Christmas cards. Listening to music.

Sunday morning.

Sunday mornings like this are rare for me. Working at a church, Sundays are a busy day. But today is one of the maybe half a dozen Sundays with nothing scheduled until this afternoon - and then it's flag football, Ultimate Frisbee, pizza, hanging out and Worship. Not bad.

Now, if only it were snowy and cold and winter weather outside, today would be perfect...[sigh]...a girl can dream...

Seriously Ridiculous?

Tired. Exhausted. Burnt out. Frustrated, Wondering if I’ve become apathetic...or maybe more afraid that I have? I’m not entirely sure.

These emotions and thoughts - and fears - have consumed me this weekend. I’m at Youth Specialties’ National Youth Workers Convention in Nashville. And it’s seriously ridiculous. God’s love for us is seriously ridiculous. Thousands of adults jumping up and down screaming in worship, excited for bands dressed in emo playing so loud you can hear them outside the convention center are seriously ridiculous. Not remembering the day of the week or time of day is seriously ridiculous. Teenagers are seriously ridiculous. Youth ministry is seriously ridiculous. And I started to wonder, am I still seriously ridiculous?

Have I seriously lost the ridiculousness that used to woo me to youth ministry?

Has it been replaced by committee meetings, complaining parents, too many programs and to-do lists that never seem to end? Has it been drowned out by all the voices telling me what I should or should not do? Has it fizzled away through the cracks of the old youth room, the stained carpet and the cluttered office? Where did it go?

My current job began about two years ago. I joined a ministry team of eight. Eight energetic interns and directors and admins. Eight people who were paid to do ministry together. Two years and too many long stories later, the administrative assistant remains. And I’m tired. Juggling all too many programs for students who seem tend to place anything else above the commitments they’ve made at church is exhausting.

Committee members and volunteers tell me continually that they’d love to help, but the emails sent seem to go no where. Voices tell me to pour into student leaders, but when the program is developed, I’m told it’s seriously ridiculous to expect students to show up for training every other week and go to a weekly worship service. They don’t have time for that.

I’m tired.

I schedule coffees and prepare for weekly check base meetings hoping to take a few things off my plate and get the help that I so desperately long for to keep up the ministry expectations at my church...and I leave with more tasks and phone calls and emails and programs. The people who so loudly tell me that they want to help are the first to delicately express that it’s really something a staff person should do.

I’m exhausted.

I can’t do it anymore. I’m ready to wave the white flag, throw in the towel and call it quits. But is that fair? For the probably 150-plus students associated with our church, is it fair to walk away and leave ‘em high and dry without any staff person? Is it honoring and loving to the teenagers who don’t understand why everyone who comes to their church to work with them - the people who say that they love them - rotate through the system that they don’t even get a chance to know their name?

I'm getting burnt out.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair to them. It’s not fair to me. Life’s not fair. I know, but when does the level of serious ridiculousness reach a point of breaking? When does it get so seriously ridiculous that it’s good and honoring to walk away? I’m not quite sure.

I'm frustrated.

Amber told me last night that she didn’t want to hear from me a year from now that I was burnt out completely, that I would walk away from student ministry so exhausted and so hurt that there was nothing in me to go back. That it became a source of pain and frustration and fear. Amber gets it. She’s in the trenches, too. We went to seminary together and both work with teenagers. She knows how much it hurts. She knows what it’s like to have frustrating work situations. She knows what it’s like to have long hours, low pay and no real vacation.

Amber spoke truth. Truth that I didn’t want to hear. I need to change something so that I don’t walk away completely. But what? What do you change when the days get busier and the lists get longer? Is there a point when walking away is a good, godly act of trust that honors and loves the teenagers you are leaving?

How do you reclaim seriously ridiculousness?

Students Say the Darndest Things

This will make you laugh.

Especially if you have ever worked in youth ministry.

I promise.

Click here.

101 Days

March 1, 2009:
101 days until my "graduation" date from physical therapy.
101 days until I can run again.
101 days until sand volleyball.
101 days until dancing at the Spoke.
101 days until Lindy Hop and Charleston.
101 days until I can go on hikes.
101 days until Ultimate Frisbee.
101 days until I can play!

All by myself...Don't wanna be...All by myself...Anymore..."

When I started working at this church in October 2006, I was joining a lively office that included four interns, one other director and a youth pastor. We also had an administrative assistant for our department.

Now I make up the youth department. Our administrative assistant is still here, and there's one other guy on staff for a few a few more weeks. But with the end of 2008, ends his time here. We have an office theme song...Another one bites the dust. C'mon...are you really surprised?

I used to like to pretend that I could it together. I juggled emails. I made a binder. I met with volunteers. I even cleaned off the desk in my new office every couple of days.

But who was I kidding?! I can't do this by myself? When I look at my to-do list, I get so overwhelmed, I want to go home and take a nap. Emails can't find me there. The funny thing - yes, funny...feel free to laugh at me - is that I actually thought that I could "hold it all together." As if I'd suddenly discover superpowers or expand the number of awake hours that I have in one day...yeah, right. It took me about three months from the most recent mass exodus come to this perfectly logical conclusion: I can't do it all.

Jehu

What a cool name: Jehu. It's short and simple, which is not that common for the Old Testament in the Bible. Only four letters. Nice.

Jehu is one of the many kings you can read about in the book called Kings, specifically about what he does with idol worshippers in 2 Kings 10:18-33. He does what God wants him to do and gets rid of Baal worship in Israel...however, he fails to think about his own life, and the chapter concludes by telling us that "Jehu was not careful to walk in the law of the Lord, the God of Israel, with all of his heart; he did not depart from the sins of Jeroboam, which he made Israel sin."

Ouch.

He did this grandiose gesture for God. He took care fo the Baal worshippers...but what about his own life? What about his own heart? And when did he forget to be careful?

It's one sentence that summarizes most of this man's life, and I can't help but wonder, would such a sentence apply to Christians today? Would such a sentence apply to people in ministry? Would such a sentence apply to...dare I say it...me?

Where in my own life am I forgetting to "be careful"? Where I have become numb to sins and fail to even recognize areas that need work? Just last night, a high school girl commented that it's pathetic how we are so used to hearing gossip, it takes effort to not gossip. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't we cringe inside at the thought of talking bad about someone? Shouldn't we love and respect others the way we would want to be loved and respected, and instead of "venting" or sharing our "concern" or making a joke where the laughter of others is "worth it," shouldn't we bite our tongue?

"Jehu was not careful." It's that simple. So...where do you need to be more careful? More importantly, where do I need to be more careful today?

I like surprises...but not ones like this.

5:57 a.m. I stumble out of my bedroom with sleep in my eyes to discover that my coffee maker, the one I set last night to have fresh java waiting, is broken.

It is not the preferred way to start a Monday morning.

What do you expect?

There's a lot of crazy stuff in the Old Testament. Not that crazy...but somewhat crazy compared to what we might think is normal. Miracles seemed to happen a lot more. Strange miracles. Talking donkeys, fire coming out of water, food being multiplied...all kinds of things.

The story I read today made me wonder. It made me wonder about how small I expect God to be?

The story is found in 2 Kings 6. There's this king of a country called Aram who's trying to attack Israel. And there's this prophet, Elisha, who keeps telling Israel's king the secret battle plans of the guy from Aram. Aram man is not happy, so he sends a bunch of people to take care of Elisha, the prophet.

The guys show up at Elisha's place, and Elisha's friends freak out. Wouldn't you if you were surrounded by an army determined to kill you? Yeah, not a good day. But Elisha tells his buddies to chill and not to worry. He prays and asks God to take care of it. God does...with some crazy vision that Elisha's friends have about seeing men on chariots and then blinding the bad guys. They lead the bad guys to Samaria, feed them and tell them to go home and leave them alone. And it works.

Yeah, weird. That's what I thought, too.

But is it all that weird?! I mean if the God who created and runs the universe can't take care of one little army, would I want to believe in Him? Probably not. But more often than not, I don't actually expect great things. I pray and assume the expected, according to our 2008 expectations of logical and normal, not according to the unlimited power and majesty of the Living God.

What do you expect?

I drink a lot of coffee

I drink a lot of coffee. A lot a lot. Probably more than I should. It's how I start my day, cuddled up in a blanket leaning against a pillow on my bed. Reading. Journaling. Getting ready. And oftentimes, when I muster up the courage to get dressed and face the real world, I find myself sitting in a coffee shop, embracing my hug in a mug over conversation with friends, coworkers, teenagers and volunteers.

That's how my days start. I go into the office, attend staff meetings, work too many hours on a computer and share meals. Lots of meals. So many meals for work that I don't cook nearly as much as I'd like. I take breaks to go to physical therapy and, on occasion, meet up with friends.

Days seem simple, but they've been long. Too long. They used to end with writing. Blog writing. Freelance writing. Letter writing. But too many hours in front of a computer have taken away the fun in all that. And by the time I call it quits, I generally am out of energy to talk with...well, anyone. I hurt my knee in July, and so there's not much that I can do, either. Running is a distant memory and now a long-term goal of the future. No more volleyball. No more dancing. No more walks.

I've unintentionally became a homebody. I looked forward to hanging out and not having plans. I longed for nights and weekends without having to engage in conversation or juggling social plans. And I said no to invitations, choosing to go home early.

What happened?!

Good question. As with many "life changes," it's the culmination of many little things that added up to a whole lot of nothing.

But I want to get back into it. I went to see the Spazmatics last night. It was a good time. We laughed a lot, and I got to do one of my favorite things...bring people together from different areas of life. It was a good time. We laughed. We sang along to cheesy '80s music. We took pictures.
And it's the start of something small. I'm starting to get back to hanging out with people. I've sent a few Evites. I'm making plans that aren't related to work.

And I'm blogging. not much, but I'm finding a little energy to write some more. It's been good.

Baby steps. I'm making baby steps.

Hello World...it's nice to be back!

The one night I miss it

Screaming. Shouting. Compiling. Analyzing. Computers flashing. Phones ringing. Fingers typing. TV screens scrolling.

Election Night 2000. That was one for the record books, in many ways.

I was an editor and designer at the Columbia Missourian at the time and was in the newsroom the night that George W. Bush was elected to his first term in office and the deceased Mel Carnahan was elected to the US Senate. There were 90-something of us there that night. Those who weren't working the design desk and didn't have stories to report found something to do. Checking numbers. Making copies. Proofing pages. Anything to be in the newsroom.

Adrenaline rushing. Coffee drinking. High-energy discussing. High-stress decision making.

It was fabulous.

We put the paper to bed sometime after midnight - later than the press wanted it to be - without telling the American people anything that decisive or who the next president would be. We were curious and tired and filled with explosive-haven't-slept-in-too-many-hours energy. So we went to the 'berg for a beer.

There's no where else a journalism student would be found on such a media frenzy night. The food is bad and the service is worse, but the smoke-filed wanna-be pub was always filled with friendly faces and strong opinions.

It was a pretty fabulous evening. I loved being in a newsroom. The energy. The stress. The excitement. The arguments over who wanted who to win and the theories of all kinds of illegal voting tactics and bribery. Good times.

On election night this year, I found myself thinking of CoMo. Remembering the 'berg. And a little jealous of my friends at the Post and in newsrooms all over the country, behind or in front of the scenes reporting and commenting on who would or should or could be president. It's the one night every four years that I truly miss working at a newspaper.