Big Trouble For The Little Church
by Sherry Kirton
30 April 2001

A True Story

Someone (obviously a youth minister or parent) once told me that if the youth aren’t causing the adults to be uncomfortable then we aren’t doing youth ministry right. This story below is true. My reflections on it haven’t changed over the decade and a half since then, but instead, God has taught me that our faith only grows when we are in the sun, watered properly and had a fresh dump of manure.

Concerned Parents

I was already an adult and an official Jr. Youth Advisor which meant that I did whatever I could to help the new Youth Pastor and his wife, but I was still young and feeling it, so I sat at the back of the “concerned parent’s” meeting hugging my sweatpanted leg.

My Church, My Family

This was the church that raised me, taught me, and gave me opportunities to grow: to try out any skills I might possess. My parents did not go to church, so my church family made me one of their own. Some would save a place for me in the pew so that I would have someone to sit with during the worship services. Some would spend their socializing time teaching me to find my alto part in the church choir. Some would take me to lunch across the street at the diner after church on Sunday. A few made sure I was picked up at home and driven to church and back (we lived in the country and so that meant at least a half hour ride one way) for Sunday and weekday services. These people loved me and cared for me. But the discussion was getting more and more heated.

Our country church had stayed pretty much the same even after we lost our beloved Pastors; the Senior Pastor retired and his Assistant Pastor left the country to finish his degree. This meant quite a bit considering that our entire Youth Department had been begun and carried on by the Assistant Pastor. To the parents it could have seemed like our Youth Group was going to fall apart, but instead it grew stronger. Stronger, because the relationships our Assistant Pastor nurtured were not neglected after he left. Stronger, because the parents of our Youth members were involved. Stronger was what we had and everyone involved intended to keep it that way.

As in most churches when the pastoral staff leaves the congregation had some “pruning back” and the same happened for the Youth Group, but it was hardly noticeable. When you live in the country, you tend to keep your relationships going because all you have is each other. Those that left were leaving their farms behind and they were sent off with potlucks and presents. Those that moved in were welcomed in just the same way, but with less tears.

Our new Youth Pastor had a beautiful family and all of them attended every Youth meeting, even though the kids were way too young to become Youth Group members. We treated them less like mascots and more like full-fledged members; they listened to all of the discussions, played all of the games, wore whatever costumes we were wearing, and worked just as hard during our fundraisers. Some churches would have told the Youth Pastor to keep his family life out of his working time, but that tends to be nothing like the country church concept of “Pastoring”. The whole family works together on the farm, the ranch, the school, the business and most definitely, the church. And it proved to be important when the town kids started showing up.

Concerned Pastor

Our new Youth Pastor, Will, loved our small Youth Group; “the girls and Dave” were what we were left with after the graduations. All of them were what we called, “church kids”. They all had parents firmly established in the church congregation and they had grown up together even though they had attended different elementary schools. When we were at church camp we were just like everyone else during the games, but our team won all of the Bible Trivia. And we felt that since we loved each other so much Will must be right when he asked the junior high and senior high members to start inviting the kids that started hanging around our building into our meetings.

We called them street kids and town kids (although nearly all of them were boys), because they lived in the town our church was in and day or night walked around the two main streets that intersected right next to our church. We never saw their parents and were never sure who was related to whom or if any of them ever were. They were wild creatures who came and left when they felt like it letting us know every chance they got that they didn’t feel they had any one in authority over them.

It took us a while to get used to them. Fortunately, the street kids and church kids were aquainted with each other from their schools, and since Will was obviously wanting them to be at Youth Group together, they felt right at home. They liked to talk during the lessons and they ran around rough-housing whenever we were supposed to be paying attention so we assumed that that was what “home” was like for them. It made Youth Group feel a little wild, but it was a great start.

Then, one night, we ran smack into trouble.

It was easy for parents to be involved at our church. The choir rehearsed during the middle of our Youth meeting time and ended a half-hour later than Youth, so parents could drop-off their pre-teens and teens, and chat while the youth were beginning their social time and the Youth Pastor’s wife made notes on the attendance chart. Then, when it was obvious that Youth was in full-swing, the parents strolled on-over to the sanctuary building to gather for choir rehearsal. If there was a problem at Youth or a parent was needed Will’s wife, would walk across the lawn into the sanctuary and sneak into the rehearsal to speak to whomever she needed. When Youth was officially done and the “big game“ in the gym (usually floor hockey) was gearing down, then the Will’s wife, a couple of the girls and I would run across the lawn and join the choir for the last half of rehearsal while Will kept the youth busy chasing him up and down the gym floor. Will was from Canada and no one could catch him when he had the hockey puck no matter how young and fit they were, nor how tired he may have been. However, this did mean that he was the only adult with them for a half-hour or so.

The Clash

That one night a few town boys had said they were going home, so they disappeared around the side of the gym (the direction most people lived). Our choir rehearsal let out early, so we ran to the same side of the gym where the new parking lot held most of our cars. It was then that I saw one of the fathers of a girl in our group looking more intimidating than usual. He found his Ram truck missing the hood ornament; it was broken clean off and that was something that troubled teens did now that “Gangster Rap“ stars were wearing them around their necks. The father had raised his deep voice in the direction of some kids and Will was hopping out of the gym from the side door trying to find out what was going on.

The Meeting

The very next week, Youth was canceled, so that we could have an emergency meeting of the concerned parents. The parents, especially the fathers of our sheltered church girls, were heating up the discussion about “what goes on during Youth“, and I felt more and more uncomfortable and found myself sliding farther down in my seat a bit at a time.

I listened to the complaints that there weren’t enough adults involved during the last part of Youth. I felt my face get hot. I listened to the complaints that our own kids were no longer safe. I felt my heart begin to pound. I listened to the objections of more parents saying that there were probably more problems that we just hadn’t found out about yet. Then, I found myself too uncomfortable to be sitting anymore.

I wasn’t sure if anyone was looking at me because my eyes had teared over and I couldn’t be sure that anyone could understand me because my throat had closed up and my teeth were holding back any ungodly thoughts that might make themselves known, but I was sure that I was talking and I was sure that I was neither a parent nor an ordained staff member.

My Mouth

“I understand that your property should be safe when it is here [on church property] and that when it isn’t you sure won’t feel like your children are. But, instead of complaining or ending our progress by ending these relationships between your children and those kids, you should be helping us show them all how to live and that God loves them. I would rather show these kids God’s love than show them the door. If you want your kids to learn that they are more important than the kids they see at school?... If you want your children to be afraid of these kids during their lunch hour or recess, then we should end this right now. But, I know they need us [pointing to Will, his wife and I] and I know that your children want to show these kids God’s mercy and I know that... [big pause] I need to leave right now.”

So I sat down and found that I was shaking and my eyes were crying. I expected that my ranting had punched holes adding to the mess and so I grabbed my leg again and held on tight.

The Results

The owner of the truck was still standing and he wasn’t easy to miss wearing a red and black plaid coat and easily way over six feet tall in his stocking feet. All eyes were on him; most of us uncertain of his reaction. He was strong in body and mind, but now it was a test of the strength of his spirit. He had been looking at me listening to my accusations and the look on his face was nearly impossible to read. He turned to face the front and took a deep breath.

I closed my eyes and listened as best as I could and it was really hard to hear since my heart was pounding in my ears and his voice was softer than I expected since he had been quite loud just a bit earlier. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I felt the Holy Spirit warm the place and I saw the after effects immediately.

The next week he was “hanging out“ with the same boys he had been upset with the week before and they were talking and eventually pushing each other during the “big game“ laughing until they all had to sit down just to breathe. Two days later, I drove down the street and saw another set of kids hanging out with another adult at an outdoor eatery across from the high school. And, several weeks later on a Saturday, I drove down the cross street and saw more of the town kids playing basketball in the driveway of still another parent’s house with the father of two boys. The two boys were not even old enough to be youth members any time soon and, yet, they were playing hard, too.

Looking Back

This congregation had always been an example of how Paul took Timothy as his own adopted son in the Lord and trained him to become a solid Christian and, therefore, a leader. I had been blessed by their adoption and I pray that those I minister to have been blessed as well. I saw that month a congregation that put their trust fully in God's hands so that not only their own children, but all of the other children around them would know the unconditional love of God and the salvation and adoption offered to us through the sacrifice of Jesus. It is all in the blood: my family.

Acknowledgements:
Thank you Easton Presbyterian, USA, of Easton, California for giving me all that I have. To Millie and Bob Alexander for giving a small, hispanic girl a chance to teach alongside you. To Kathy and Harvey Gabel and family for making me part of your special family before and after Worship services. To Matt Houtts, the Hoffs and many others for driving me back and forth. To Mr. Moore my Sunday High School teacher for taking the time to explain everything until we got it (especially the order of worship for our services). To the Futrell family for giving me the early reasons to go and the rides back and forth. The Stout family, The Milhorn family, The Reimer family, The Price family, The Ruiz family, The Musson family and so many others for encouraging me all along the way. Also, thank you to Westminster Pres., of Fresno, California, most notably, The Blalak family, The Hill family and the Papazian family among others for giving me my first opportunity for ministry outside of my home church after high school. And, to First Pres. of Hayward, and to Valley Christian Center of Dublin. Finally, to my church family from Harvest Chapel, for giving me the space to try a new frontier. To God’s Glory.