Patti's shared items
Jackson is 8 months old. He crawls around on the floor. He pulls himself up on things to stand up. He coos, squeals, grunts, and makes endless raspberries. He’s the perfect size for Megan (10) and Paul (8) to pick up and play with. He loves to cuddle with mom and dad.
Eight months is one of those ages you wish your kids could just freeze and stay… forever.
This is the tension we live in as parents, isn’t it? We want them to slow down so we can enjoy each stage of development.
But they are in a hurry to grow up
Jackson wants to use real words to tells us exactly what he wants. He wants to not just stand up, but walk. He wants to run with his siblings. He wants to eat what we eat.
He wants to get big and we want to keep him small.
It’s cute when they are babies. Certainly understandable and easy to justify.
But this tug to keep them young isn’t always good for them
The other day I hung out with Ryan McRae, a resident director at CSU San Marcos. He sees this same phenomenon every day with 18, 19, 20 year olds whose parents have done their best to keep their children young. Many of them are ill-equipped to live on their own. They lack basic judgment skills. Lots of them can’t even cook for themselves or do their own laundry.
Young adults who can’t take care of themselves. They can’t resolve conflict among themselves. He has to tell the parents to leave their adult-aged children alone.
I’m not a psychologist… but when I hear these things my mind wonders, “Are these young adults developmentally delayed?” Yes.
It’s cute to keep a baby young. But its not helpful to them beyond toddlerhood.
As parents we want to hold on to that cute baby who crawls around on the floor and coos. But, to be a good parent, we need to own our role in raising our children to become responsible, respectable adults. The goal of your parenting can not be to hold onto the past. It has to be to prepare your kids for the future.
Let’s explore this more. Join me in Atlanta for the Extended Adolescence Symposium on November 21st.
My son Daniel and I were just at one of the most thrilling World Series games in history. After playing incredibly sloppy baseball for most of it, the Cardinals tied it in the ninth, tied it again in the 10th and won it on a David Freese walk-off homer in the 11th.
And I’m sitting here trying to come to grips with the fact that I left after the seventh.
Had I been by myself or with another adult, there’s no way I would have taken off. Yes, I was incredibly frustrated with the way the Cardinals were playing. Matt Holliday cost the Cards a run when he missed a fly ball in left field and another run when he inexplicably got picked off third base. Freese himself dropped a routine pop fly that gave the Rangers another run.
So after Texas pulled ahead by three runs in the seventh inning, it certainly seemed like the game was over. The Cardinals showed no indications that they wanted to win the game, and it was reasonable to conclude that they were done. Lots of other fans headed for the exits after the seventh inning as well.
Add to that the fact that Daniel was shivering and tired. It was a cold night, and although we dressed warmly, he doesn’t have as much natural padding as his dad does. So he had been feeling the cold for a couple of innings, and the temperature was dropping. He was also ready for bed. I felt bad for him, and I would have felt worse had we stayed through nine innings and the Cardinals lost the way I expected them to. I wanted the night to be an enjoyable one – and not a miserable one — for my son.
I knew I was running this risk when I decided to take Daniel with me to the game. But I also knew that it was a risk worth taking. I was 8 years old in 1982 when the Cardinals won the World Series, and ever since then the names of Andujar, Ozzie, Herr, McGee, Hernandez, Hendrick, Forsch, Horton, Porter and others have formed a pantheon of heroes for me. Since Daniel is 8, I’ve thought in recent days how special it would be if St. Louis could manage to win the Series this year. It would be even more special if we got to go to one of the games together.
So when I got two tickets from a friend for game 6, I jumped at the chance, and I knew I wanted to take Daniel with me. I thought he’d be fine. He’s gone to games with me before and stayed for the duration of them, and he’s been wanting to stay up late and watch the World Series games this year. I really thought he’d be OK.
But then after we arrived in St. Louis yesterday, the game got postponed because of foul weather. We went swimming at the hotel, and spent the first part of today doing other things around St. Louis. I think he was just worn out. So instead of forcing him to suck it up and tough it out, I relented and told him we’d go back to the hotel.
While we were waiting for the train, I heard the fireworks at the stadium and knew something had happened. I checked the score on my phone and saw that Allen Craig had homered to cut the Texas lead to 7-5.
We made it to our destination station, and then hopped aboard a bus to get us back to the hotel. As we sat waiting on the bus, I checked the score again. Albert Pujols doubled in the ninth. Lance Berkman walked. With two outs and two strikes, Freese tripled in both runs to tie the game.
Great, I think. It figures the Cards would end up making a game of this.
Josh Hamilton confirmed the wisdom of my decision a few minutes later when he homered in the top of the 10th to give the Rangers another two-run lead. But then I regretted the decision again in the bottom of the inning when Berkman stroked a two-out single to drive in the tying run. When Freese won the game in the 11th, I didn’t know what to think. I was ecstatic about the win, raising my hands in triumph and shaking my head in astonishment at the comeback the Cardinals had just pulled off.
At the same time, I was kicking myself. I could have been there to see it, and I wasn’t.
I’m still sitting here wondering if I made the right decision. Maybe I should have forced Daniel to sit there in the cold, just in case something historical happened. And I’m sure one of these days, when Daniel is old enough to truly appreciate the magnitude of the game 6 excitement, he’ll undoubtedly be apoplectic. “We were there for that game and missed the ending?” he’ll probably ask me. “Why didn’t you make me stay? I was just a kid who didn’t know any better.” It’s probably what I would have said to my dad in a similar situation. I guess I’ll have to take my medicine if and when that day comes.
But as I think of my son, exhausted, now lying asleep in his hotel bed, I’ll choose instead to think of the night we got to spend with each other. We had the opportunity to go to World Series game 6 together. We got to visit with some of the umpires outside their locker room before the game. Daniel actually got to go into their locker room for a few minutes, and Bruce Froemming loaded him down with candy and treats.
We cheered Lance Berkman’s first inning homer and groaned together at the bumbling errors the Cardinals kept making. Freese (when he botched the pop fly) gave me a vivid illustration of why I tell Daniel to use two hands when catching the ball. We waved rally towels and talked about baseball and dogs (Daniel’s two favorite topics).
As I sat in my hotel room watching Freese smack his game-winning homer, I looked at Daniel sleeping soundly, and felt an immense amount of gratitude. Even though we missed the ending, we’ll forever be able to say that we were there for that game. We’ll undoubtedly share many conversations in the years ahead about what might have been. And someday, maybe this episode will be just one proof to Daniel that he has a dad who loves him more than baseball.
You might have heard that it snowed Thursday.
Sure, you could have looked out the window, or walked outside. But why do that when you could listen to everyone else as they looked out the window.
Photographic evidence! Surprise! Denial! Disappointment! ... Joy!
Harold Camping, who predicted Oct. 21 to be the day Christians would be caught up to heaven and that God would judge the world, said on Oct. 16 that he is no longer able to lead Family Radio Stations, Inc. or his ministry, and his wife has confirmed that the 90-year-old radio evangelist has retired, a documentarian close to Camping told The Christian Post in an exclusive interview.
Camping also said in a private conversation that day that nobody could know exactly when the time of the apocalypse would come, according to his interlocutor. That statement constitutes a radical change in his teachings, as Camping used to claim that the date of the end of the world is encoded in the Bible, and that he had found the way to read it through studying it closely for many years...more
As I sit here this morning, looking out of my window onto my street, I have a single thought:
Today is powerful.
One single day could change everything.
No, there’s nothing significant about this Thursday.
I mean that every day is powerful.
And you have one shot to get today right.
Each day I have the opportunity to do something… in this moment… or let it slip away.
It’s a simple thought. But perspective adds to the realization that today can’t be just another day.
So often we get lost in the busyness of doing what we need to do today that we forget that Jesus Christ has empowered his believers to measure each day differently.
Jesus measures your day differently than you do.
Today might not seem significant. But it is.
Today is a gift. And what you do with this day matters deeply to the one who made the hours we describe as a day.
“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
What are you going to do today to Love God? What are you going to do today to Love your neighbors as yourself?
Ben begins with an agenda. His job is to convince or if necessary, to steamroll a manufacturer of high-quality chairs to accepting a merger. Ben’s company believes it to be a good thing, but the target company is not so sure. Ben’s mindset as he starts out is: “how do I get them to do what I want them to do.”
Somewhere between getting people to understand him and slowing-down long enough to understand them, he found his answer.
Through a series of encounters with a mentor—Aunt Elle—and a lot of reflection Ben comes to understand that it is not about him. His journey causes him to reflect on five lessons:
Lesson #1: Hold the Vision. The hard part isn’t coming up with the vision, it’s holding on to the vision. “As a leader, your job is to hold fast to the big picture, to keep seeing it in your mind’s eye, with crystal clarity, where it is you are going—that place that right at this moment exists only in your mind's eye. And to keep seeing that, even when nobody else does.”
Lesson #2: Build Your People. “People have all sorts of amazing qualities and natural abilities trapped inside them. With the wood, it’s knowing how to apply the heat. With people, it’s applying your belief.” If you give people something great to live up to, they usually will. “How influential you are, comes down to your intention. What are you focused on? Your benefit, or theirs?” The more you yield, the more power you have.
Lesson #3: Do the Work. Be humble and stay grounded. Aunt Elle said, “People who achieve great things that the world will never forget, start out by accomplishing small things the world will never see.”
Lesson #4: Stand for Something. Lead from who you are. People will figure it out anyway. People need to trust your competence, but they need to trust your character more. “Competence is simply the baseline, the thing that puts you in the game. It matters, but honestly, it’s a dime a dozen.” The authors remind us that you can only lead as far as you grow. Aunt Elle says, “What you have to give, you offer least of all through what you say; in greater part through what you do; but in greatest part through who you are.”
Lesson #5: Share the Mantle. It’s not about you. “You are not their dreams, you are only the steward of those dreams. And leaders often get it backwards and start thinking they not only hold the best of others but they are the best….The moment you start thinking it’s all about you, that you’re the deal, is the moment you begin losing your capacity to positively influence others’ lives.”
Whatever great parenting looks like, it is not about the parent.It’s Not About You is a great presentation of solid life lessons. A book to be read and passed around. Unfortunately, “it’s not about you,” is not the kind of lesson that once learned, is always remembered. If it was, fewer great leaders would finish poorly after so many years of outstanding service. This is an issue that we face over and over again, but hopefully in ever diminishing frequency and intensity as our leadership matures. This book is a great reminder of the power of the right kind of leadership; leadership that comes from an inner strength of understanding, service and outgoing concern for others.
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When the government took the kids away from the SOG orphanage, they left in one or two buses (we couldn't confirm). They divided them up by gender, the girls in one orphanage and the boys in the other.
In my first youth ministry job, I was fortunate enough to have a 25+-year veteran serve as a volunteer. His wisdom gave me a giant fast forward in the church/staff relationship process. When it came time for me to move on to a full-time role, he and I talked a lot about the process of finding a new church.
One day he stopped me in midsentence. “Can you please stop all the Christianese about this job search? Calling, feeling led to a specific ministry type, all of that stuff. Let’s face it—God doesn’t care where you serve him; he cares that you serve him.”
As we unpacked that, he talked about the danger of wrapping up my identity with my vocation and the practical implications for that when things went well in ministry and when things didn’t go well. His rant stuck with me. If I don’t see a burning bush or get suddenly blinded by Jesus, then “calling” is probably not the right description for a job hunt.
That little exchange changed my view on working in the church for the next ten years. We over-spiritualize the whole work/life relationship. It’s a job with a task, and we are professionals hired to fill a role. No offense, but your ministry gig is just that—a gig. That doesn’t mean you love it any less. That doesn’t lessen your significance in the ministry. But it does mean that it’s just a job, and you shouldn’t make it something that it isn’t. It’s what you do, not who you are.
So how do I know when it’s time to leave? Here are a few criteria I’ve used in helping others through this process.
Are you still having fun? Working with teenagers in a church and dealing with all of the ancillary stuff is hard work. And if you aren’t having fun anymore, it’s time to move on. That doesn’t mean every minute has to be filled with games. But it does mean that there is a tipping point between joyfully doing the stuff you don’t like that goes along with the job and looking at your calendar and only seeing things you dream. If you don’t like what you are doing and where you are working, you should quit.
Is this just a valley? I spent eighteen months as the solo pastor at a church after the other two pastors quit suddenly. I know valleys. Those eighteen months were survivable because I knew it was just a valley and we’d be okay when we popped out the other side. During those eighteen months of weddings, funerals, pulpit supply, and endless elder meetings, I gained a new appreciation for the role of the senior pastor. On top of that, when we came out of the valley, the joy was that much greater.
Do you love the staff? I was always jealous of the teams I saw at the big leadership events. They seemed to love each other and want to hang out all the time. I don’t know if that’s the model for ministering together we should strive for. But I do know that you should love doing life with the people you work with.
Do you still love the people? There’s a difference between having healthy boundaries between your ministry life and your personal life and just plain not liking the people in your ministry. If you don’t legitimately like the people in your community, then it’s probably time for you to do something else.
Are you there because of fear? I think a lot of people stay too long in vocational ministry because they are afraid that they can’t do anything else. I’ll let you in on a little secret. You can be a youth worker without being an employee of the church! Never stay at a job because the inconvenience of looking for work is worse than staying at a job you hate.
At the end of the day, there isn’t a formula for knowing when it’s time to double down or time to get out of town. But I’ve learned that there is great value in asking your spouse, your close friends, and a couple other advisers periodically.
I should start out by saying that I have worked at four churches, so I have a few thoughts about transitions. I’ll also say that in most cases I made good decisions, but there is still one church I left that I question whether it was right.
Transitions are always difficult to navigate. In many cases in the youth ministry world, churches assume we won’t stay long term when they hire us. Unfortunately, that preconceived notion makes them not want to commit much to us. There are youth ministers who stay at their churches for a long time. I think that’s great and commend them for that commitment. We would better serve the world of youth ministry if we all did that. But, it is often just not possible. So how do you know it’s time to leave or go? Here’s a couple thoughts.
How are your heart and soul? I work at a church that I love. I love my staff, the students, their families, and the whole community. I wake up in the morning thinking about the church and am really excited about all the possibilities. Most of the time I feel like I am valued. I worked at a church once where I didn’t feel that way. That was hard. I think self-evaluation of how you are doing at your soul is a huge step. If you feel like you are at a place that nurtures and cares for it, then you are in a good place. If the opposite is true, then you might want to consider a transition.
How are you compensated? I mean way more than money, but I’ll start by talking about strict finances. Do you get paid enough to live on? Are you able to make ends meet and not eat noodles every night? Does the church have a plan for how you might be compensated better during life transitions or milestones? Often in our world, churches don’t take care of us differently when we get married, have kids, or graduate. This is especially true in today’s tight economy. But this is a long-term question you will have to wrestle with. It may be that you are compensated fairly, and I don’t think money should be at the top of your list when it comes to transitions, but it is a factor.
Is there opportunity for growth? This sounds way more like a business question than a church question, but I think it’s still worth asking. If you’ve been in your job for a while and do it well, is there any opportunity to take on more leadership and responsibilities? In many cases, the answer is yes, and you could see yourself sticking around for a long time because there are places you can move into as your life changes. I’ve moved into more of a leader of leaders role as I’ve gotten older and been around longer. It’s a good place for me. If you are in a role that will likely never change and you feel already like you are butting up against a ceiling, you might want to consider a transition.
What happens when you graduate from school? I’m a huge proponent of education. Graduation is a natural time of transition. I left a church after I graduated from seminary. It was a great transition, and everyone celebrated with me. It may be that you are more qualified for a different role after graduation and doors are opening to you. Or you might find that your church wants to move you into something else or increase your salary.
Are you done? This is a simple yet profound question. The hardest year of ministry for me is always the fifth year. It is the year after the first group of students I started with as ninth graders graduate. We are not supposed to have favorites, but in general, that first class I spent four years with will always be mine. So the year after they graduate is a difficult year. I miss them a ton. At one church, I was done in my fifth year but stuck around for two more. All of us will get to a point where we recognize that we know we are finished with our role. But many of us like paychecks and hate transition and just stick around because we are too scared to follow God somewhere else.
One thing I really like about the Slant 33 blog is that you can read two other people’s thoughts here about transitions. Getting multiple opinions is probably really helpful. All situations are different. My last bit of advice is that you have to weigh all factors before making any decision. Focusing too much on any one factor will probably lead you to make the wrong decision. I did that once. I decided a location I wanted to live and a beach I wanted to spend a lot of time at. My blinders came up, and I didn’t weigh all the factors. Great beach, wrong church.
I moved too often in my first bunch of years of youth ministry. Let’s just get that on the table right up front. I can easily explain or justify each move (the church couldn’t hire me full time; I got fired; there were budget cutbacks, and I was going to lose my job). All legit. All rational.
The problem is, though, I think my mess was too much a part of the decision-making goulash each time. I wanted more power. I wanted to be liked more. I wanted to be respected more. And, man, the grass is so freaking green at the church calling you. It’s like green food coloring green.
I’m not saying those moves were mistakes. But I’m definitely saying my process of deciding was faulty. Well, except maybe the time I got fired. I didn’t have much say in that. But my discernment process for the next job was just as faulty as the ones that offered more volition. It wasn’t until I left my fourth church, to go to Youth Specialties, that my process was patient and thoughtful and anything resembling spiritual discernment.
In church world, we are pretty good at masking this. We are quick with the “God is calling me” language because it just doesn’t sound that good to say, “I just don’t like you people” or, “Sorry, but that other church offered me way more money” or, “I ran out of ideas here and need to go somewhere else where I can repeat them all and have them seem new.”
Over my dozen years at Youth Specialties, and in the couple years since, I’ve had hundreds of youth workers ask me about leaving. I don’t think we have the space to go into a deep response about spiritual discernment. But let me take a swing at a couple other related issues:
Are you worn out? Youth ministry can be one of the more wearying jobs out there. There are plenty of other jobs that are more physically exhausting. But when you add in the emotional, mental, and relational strain, well, it’s easy to get toasty. So we all get worn out. The question is: Is this a worn out that, with some rest, you can come back from? Are you tired, or are you worn out to the point that you’re going to do damage if you stay?
You might need some extended rest or a sabbatical in order to figure this out. (Of course, that feels risky too. My friend asked for and received a three-month sabbatical to discern whether he was supposed to stay at his church. On the day he returned to tell the church he had a renewed sense of calling and was going to stay, they informed him they’d decided the opposite. Ah, churches. That goofy bride o’ Christ.)
The other significant question I think youth workers need to ask themselves is: Can I find something—anything—that I can respect about my senior pastor and leadership? In my experience, most people who are even considering a move at all are, to one extent or another, dissatisfied. Something is not great. And, more often than not, when I dig into these questions with youth workers, I find the core issue circling around an eroded trust in and respect for the senior pastor (or sometimes for the broader church leadership; but that’s tolerable if the youth worker feels like the senior pastor is honest about it).
Here’s what it boils down to for me: If you’re wondering about leaving, even flirting with the idea, there are some steps to take and questions to ask yourself:
1. Bring a discernment team around for this purpose alone. Obviously, these need to be highly trustworthy people who will understand the confidentiality of the situation. Read up on Quaker Clearness Committees and give the group permission, even a charge, to ask you anything and everything.
2. Ask yourself, Why am I less than satisfied? Be ruthlessly honest with yourself and journal about it.
3. If your dissatisfaction is centered around a lack of respect for the leadership of the church, you have three options:
- Leave. If you are bitter and stay, you will do damage. Hear this: Even if the church leadership really is wrong, it’s wrong for you to be a mini Godzilla.
- Realize you’ll need to leave but not immediately. Set a deadline. Be optimistic and supportive of the church leadership, knowing there’s a light at the end of your tunnel.
- Or, find something to respect about your senior leadership and pray for a softened heart and renewed passion.
