Youth Ministry training and the battle for professionalism. Is it worth it?

/0 Comments/in , , , /by

In the red corner, weighing in at -£30,000 (debt that is); a youth ministry professional with certificates, training and qualifications. They boast a long list of module credentials, and a mental catalogue of praxis, quotes and bibliographic data. I give you… the qualified youth worker.

In the blue corner, weighing in at 12 years; a veteran youth worker with three positions under her belt, a plethora of personal stories, and the blood, sweat and tears from more youth camps than you can swing a weasel at. She is… the experienced youth worker.

Let’s get ready to rumble! ‘Ding.’ And there’s the bell, fight!

Who would you put your money on? In what corner would you side?

In a world of middle-grounds, we know that the balanced approach is to do both – to gain as much experience as possibly while sitting some formal training; or at least remaining actively teachable while on the job. In reality, however, very few Christian youth workers in the UK are trained to degree level, most having worked their way up through the volunteering ranks without academic accountability. Are they missing something?

Breaking inside the bubble

To those outside the formal training bubble, a degree is little more than ‘a bit of paper.’ They can’t possibly know what they’re missing, however, because they’re missing it. I’ve met youth workers who strongly feel the absence of training and regret missing out, and I’ve met resentful youth workers who have been passed over for better jobs because of their lack of training.

It’s this latter group that tend to get under my skin, because there is an inherent arrogance to assuming you know something without actually studying it. There’s also a mean spiritedness to assuming that those who did chose to study did so only to tick a box, and didn’t actually have to work hard.

The problem, of course is that those who say you don’t need formal training tend to be those without it, and those who say you do, tend to be those with it.

I’m going to see if I can list off some pros and cons of training when applied to the youth ministry work world and see where it fits in alongside developing experience.

There are some anomalous factors that I’m not going to be able to factor in here. For instance, some training centres are just better than others, and some jobs provide far broader contexts for experience-based-learning too. I’m hoping, however, that by the end we’ll see a little bit more of the value of both perspectives and – all cards on the table – I hope we’ll consider formal training options more seriously than statistics would say that we do.

Qualifications and Training Pros and Cons

Pros

You look at topics objectively outside the realm of responsibility – so you find yourself safely out of your depths. I.e. nobody gets hurt if you get it wrong!

You are encouraged to critically engage with a wide range of different ministry opinions. By being presented with a spectrum of views, you will be able make clearer decisions on what works and what doesn’t. As a result, you become less likely to simply run after the ‘new thing’.

All practice becomes reflective practice. Everything you do and experience gets put under the microscope of analysis, making you more considered and careful in your approaches.

You do much of your thinking in community. You learn to measure voices in a room and be sharpened by others. Being taught in community simply makes you more teachable – which means that you’ll learn more!

You learn to ask more questions. Without asking questions, formal study just doesn’t work. You learn to become analytical of both your own thought-processes and the ideas that surround you. Granted, sometimes this is just to get a higher mark, but a higher mark means more critical engagement, better understanding, and clearer, more coherent communication. It’s worth it!

You learn to ask better questions. You start to draw a straight line between the information that you need and the best way to get at it. You are able to dig deeper, find roots, and simply be a clearer thinker as a result.

You get formal recognition. Having a degree is not simply ‘having a piece of paper.’ Anyone who says that simply doesn’t understand the accreditation process. A degree means you have been held accountable to a strictly measured standard, so you actually leave with a base level of learning. This is why a degree is so valuable – it tells your potential employer that you have been rigorously tested and have hit the mark.

You stick at it! Because you invested in a foundation, you’re much more likely to stick around the long haul.

Cons

You act like a jerk. Ok, not always, but I often talk about ‘First-year At Recognised Theological-college Syndrome’ or FARTS. When you have spent a year with people far smarter and more considered then you, you then it’s easy to adopt their approach verbatim as if you had actually spent the all years developing it yourself. You start to sound cocky, but without the substance to back it up. Real people become theological targets for you to practices your swings, and the heart gets clogged up in ‘doctrinal accuracy.’

You can become arrogantly unpliable. Some training (although usually truer for non-accredited courses) only teaches you their method – and subtly inoculates you against all others. You see things in isolation and therefore don’t allow for the possibility of how a given context could need you to change your approach. This is even more difficult if that approach is something your college told you was wrong.

Debate becomes the de facto way to discuss. There are many human skills that you can unlearn when in a vacuum of people who debate theology and practice all day. Normal friendly conversation with different types of people is one of them.

You become prepared theoretically without being prepared practically. When I left Bible College for the first time, I was ready to write a Bible study, but not lead one; I was ready to prepare a strategy, but not execute it; I was ready to think about death, but not sit in hospital with a bereaved parent. There are some things that training just doesn’t train you for.

It’s expensive. You’ll be paying for training for a while, and I’m not connived that colleges really need to charge all that they do. Saying that, with less people choosing training options, the price does tend to suffer for the few who do.

So, is training worth it?

I absolutely think it is. Experience will round and shape you over the years, but a foundational time of rigorous study is a gold-mine. Very few people who say they will study ‘later’ actually do. Also, of the many youth workers who begin their work career without formal training, even fewer stick around after their first contract.

Training fills in gaps that you wouldn’t otherwise know need filling. Training teaches you a way to think critically and in community. Training also helps you focus your efforts during the building of experience. I believe that experience post-training builds into helpful experience quicker, with fewer mistakes, than experience without training. There’s just less running around in the dark!

Training is not the same as experience, and it cannot replace it, but securing a solid foundation is going to be gold when you have the experience to go with it. It’s both-and not either-or, but if you have the choice, don’t skip training.

 

Photo by Victor Freitas on Unsplash

 

Find this interesting? Check out let’s stop telling future youth ministers to skip training, for a slightly rantier version!

Is critical thinking the same as overthinking? Some self-indulgent epistemological musings.

/0 Comments/in , , /by

Sometimes critical thinking is ignored, shunned, mocked, or worse, flat out rejected as overthinking. However, in a world of fake news, tabloid drama, and social media reporting – critical thinking just couldn’t be more important. Dismissing genuine critical engagement with ideas as overthinking is more than biting the hand that feeds, it’s covering it in ketchup first.

I’ve been accused of overthinking many times – and at least fourteen-point-six-two-percent of those times it’s been true. I am a critical thinker, and I’m an over-thinker. I’m a muser, and I’m a worrier. I evaluate hard, and I panic hard! As Nike’s famous slogan says: Just do it… and freak out a lot over it while you’re at it.

There is, however, a significant difference between critical thinking and over thinking, and equating them as one and the same can do some real violence to truth.

We need to process the world carefully – and we need to teach our kids to do the same. So, let’s give these ideas some critical thought… and try not to overthink it!

What’s the difference?

Starting with definitions, critical thinking is applying slow and deliberate questioning to a given idea. It carefully dissects, deconstructs, and reconstructs a given proposition, moving it through stages of doubt and dialogue. It usually follows some kind of objective method, or at least asks a series of probing questions. It challenges and it pokes. Critical thinking – at least for it to work best – requires us to suspend our beliefs to some degree.

Over thinking, however, is trying desperately to make something work the way we think it should.

So overthinking is the weird one here. We often think of overthinking as just getting stuck in a web of extraneous detail, giving ourselves headaches, and subsequently needing a stiff drink or a good boxset-a-thon. Overthinking, we would say, is what keeps us awake and ties us in knots. We see overthinking as over-complicating an issue, thus muddying the waters and losing the clarity.

That, however, is not strictly overthinking – it’s just poor thinking.

Thinking crudely, shoddily, weakly, negligently, or unskilfully are all traits of being human. And it sucks! Sometimes we get bored, sometimes we’re just tired, or need to pee. Sometimes our computers just run out of mental ram or need an emotional update. And, awkward but true, some computers just run better than others for certain tasks.

You can totally get swallowed up in a sticky web of uneconomic thought processes – but this is just not the same as when people mistakenly call critical thinking over thinking.

Agenda-driven overthinking

In reality, overthinking has an agenda, or – put another way – it puts the cart before the horse.

Overthinking starts with a hypothesis and then, rather than testing it, it tries to blindly prove it, bending all data to fit it, and rejecting all data against it. This kind of overthinking clutches at straws, gets (quite literally) mentally hysterical, and loses reason to emotion dressed up in clever sounding prose. It’s usually at this point in a debate, that the increasingly stuck ‘over-thinker’ accuses the critical thinker of over thinking. Go figure. This, btw, is one of the many reasons why debates are such a horribly poor tool to arrive at truth.

Overthinking can also be driven by fear. Worries that something could happen become the subversive agenda of the overthinker, so staying up late at night running possibilities around your head. That too, however, is still agenda-driven – even if in the negative. Usually the best way out of this is to surrender the agenda, rather than digging in. But oh boy does that take some emotional maturity and – I don’t know about you – but I wasn’t taught how to do that in school.

The showstopper conversational killer

Oftentimes, trying to properly evaluate an issue using critical engagement in order to arrive at a careful, or even more nuanced opinion, is simply rejected by the broad-brush conversation stopper: ‘Man, you’re just overthinking it!’

What do you say after that? ‘No, sir, I’m just trying to think carefully and constructively about the issue?’ Good luck. The roadblock is now up, and any further reasoning will be dismissed, filtered cavalierly through the ‘overthinking it’ lens.

A personal parable

I was once told that I was overthinking by suggesting the context of pagan worship practices had something to tell us about the classically interpreted ‘homosexuality passages.’ As proper worship contrasted against idolatrous worship is the backdrop of both Lev. 18 and Rom. 2, I felt that this might have been important to consider when looking at the verses within it – whichever way one comes down on the issue.

I wasn’t necessarily in disagreement with my accusers’ conclusions, however, they told me flat out that I was overthinking, and thus probably wrong. They believed it was black-and-white, and that the original context shouldn’t factor into the interpretation if it could possibly soften or slightly redirect our classical reading. They didn’t want their strong convictions nuanced by burdensome grey areas; at least not while they felt ‘on the spot.’

I actually think it was they who were guilty of overthinking by rejecting data that didn’t fit into their established opinions. If the issue lined up with a different set of convictions, I imagine they wouldn’t have responded the way they did. They would talk context all day, for instance, if someone drew a similar black-and-white application out of slavery in the Bible; but that wasn’t the issue on the table, and it wasn’t the direction of their agenda.

This is exactly the issue though, it’s our established opinions that need to be temporarily suspended when thinking critically. It’s OK, God won’t stop being God, the world won’t fall apart, and they’ll still be there when finish.

I think what was happening in my conversation was that the person was receiving new information on the fly, wasn’t able to process it safely, and didn’t want to lose any ground. That’s fair – and it’s also human. They lashed out from their own overthinking by accusing me of the same.

That’s what overthinking is, a tenuous house of cards built in the wrong direction and without a foundation, and unable to support its weight in critical conversation. Straw men will fall all day to overthinking, but a real independent dialogue partner won’t. Something has to give.

The battle for truth in conversations

Exegesis should never be held to ransom by our hard-headed opinions. Truth should never have to defend itself against emotional violence dressed up in a logic-suit. That’s why critical thinking is so essential.

The big difference is that overthinking comes with baggage. It has an axe to grind, a dragon to slay, or a point to prove. Overthinking is also human, it comes with stories, history, and experiences that can’t be so easily shaken. Learning to think critically in the wake of our own fragile and burdensome cognitive humanity is just hard work – however it is a skill that needs to be developed, and we owe it to the world to try.

Critical thinking attempts to suspend as much subjective assumptions as possible and arrive at the table as neutral as possible. As cold as that sounds, it’s actually this which gives the real ground for compassion and humanity in dialogue. Think about it:

  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires room for processing time.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires genuine active listening and real conversation. Remember that active listening is taught as the temporary ‘suspension of judgement’.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires genuine understanding for the person you are talking to, not just the category of opinion they hold.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires more colours than just black and white.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires movement, nuance and subtlety.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires an observance of the journey, not just the consequences.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation requires time, understanding, movement, and great care.
  • Real critical thinking in conversation remembers that we’re’re not God, and that suspending opinions and truth doesn’t make the world fall down.

The epistemological dance between two critical thinkers

I’m a huge believer that critical thinking provides a real epistemological romance. There is a dance to be had between two independent people who disagree but possess actual ability to sharpen, inform, and even disagree in a way that genuinely builds up.

I think we, as evangelical Christians, can be a bit rubbish at genuine critical thinking. It’s one of the many reasons that were so tribalistic. But just maybe if we put down our guns and our axes for a minute, grabbed some perspective and some compassion, we might find so much more communication between our hearts and our brains – then maybe we’ll connect better with other people’s hearts and brains. Then maybe – just maybe – we’ll stop overthinking, and dig ourselves out of this increasingly polarising, tribal rut.

So, let’s ask more questions than we give answers.
Let’s stay teachable and pliable.
Let’s trust God rather than our own compounded and collected opinions.
Let’s reach wider and dig deeper.
Let’s not assume we are the smartest people in the room.
Let’s not have practice arguments with straw men while talking to ourselves in the car.
Let’s not rush truth.
Let’s talk to humans as humans.
Let’s ditch the Western tradition of debate.
Let’s dance together with real brain and heart power.
Let’s think critically.

Overthought rant over.

 

Photo by Skye Studios on Unsplash

 

Did you enjoy this self indulgent ramble about how we think and talk? Well it’s a bit of a bugbear of mine, so you might enjoy a few other places of venting on it too:

– Are you addicted to controversy?
– Ethics, Critical Thinking, and Youth Ministry
– Epistemology of Youth Ministry

And one by my wife

– Phenomenology, Faith, and Young People

 

The best arguments against reading Harry Potter, with some critical responses – a faux debate.

/4 Comments/in , /by

During my first degree over a decade ago, I wrote a paper for a Youth Ministry module basically discussing whether or not a Christian should read Harry Potter. It didn’t score massively highly (mostly due to my poor proofreading skills!), but it was still an eye-opening experience. I believed then that the debate was mostly settled by the plethora of literature released at the time; however, the question of the holiness of a believer who chooses to read Harry Potter, along with the soundness of their faith is still a solid part of modern Christian dialogue.

The ‘HP debate’ has followed my ministry ever since that first paper. Sometimes a young person has raised the question, and other times it has been a parent. Recently someone threatened to pull support from my ministry because they had heard (wrongly) that I had run a Harry Potter-themed event.

Although usually I deflect answering the question towards more Gospel-related themes, I’m going to go all in here as a once only treat. Enjoy.

At the extremes, one side of the debate sees the Harry Potter series as a black-and-white glorification of witchcraft, written deliberately to ensnare vulnerable young people into evil habits, thus demonically drawing them away from God; whereas the other far side sees it as harmless fun, without any ramifications for personal faith or holiness at any level at all. There is, however, a whole world of carefully considered nuance within these extremes, littered with intelligent thinkers across the spectrum. A little dialogue goes a long way after all, and reason should be given its day.

Setting the scene

There are some genuinely important questions to ask yourself as a Christian when engaging with any kind of popular media, so I don’t want to be black-and-white about this. I, for instance, personally have decided not to watch anything with nudity or sex scenes in it. I know that such scenes are simply not healthy for me in my personal faith journey, and I also know these scenes don’t serve my relationship with my wife. This means that I have never seen an episode of Game of Thrones for instance. That’s my choice informed by the current shape of my journey. I do, however, read Harry Potter, and have done so for many years.

So, rather than writing yet another ‘here’s why it’s all OK’ article, I wanted to engage with the question with a little bit more critical thinking. I strongly believe that to argue for anything, you should know at least some of the best arguments against your own position. Respecting different perspectives is essential for teachability, and teachability is essential for growth, and growth is essential for not being an ill-informed gasbag. An honourable goal that I’m trying to aspire to!

With that in mind, here are what I think are the best reasons – albeit briefly summarised – for not reading Harry Potter. I will follow this list with my responses to the reasons, and in doing so I hope to give a well-reasoned argument for. The hope here is to show that both sides have merit, and explain why I personally came down on my side. It’ll be your choice to decide at the end which you find more convincing, and more helpful for your own journey.

So, sleeves rolled up. Lumos spell cast (let the HP reader understand). Let’s do it!

The best reasons against reading Harry Potter.

Reason 1. (Content)

The Harry Potter world removes all distinctions between dark sorcery and light magic, rendering the reader passive (at best) towards the twisted nature of engaging with the pagan rites and occult rituals that are subversively written into the books. It explicitly nuances the spectrum, making out some witchcraft to be virtuous, when in fact, all witchcraft is evil. Put another way, it glorifies something that the Bible forbids (Deut. 18:10-12).

Reason 2. (Content)

Harry Potter passively promotes pagan and neopagan religions such as Wicca and dulls our critical senses which we would have otherwise used to steer clear of them. It effectively makes the gap smaller between our faith context and idolatrous faith contexts. Further, there are many deplorable instants in the midst of this, including the attempted murder of a baby, and reanimation of corpses. It’s simply too dark and too caviler with paganism.

Reason 3. (Author intent)

The research that went into writing Harry Potter included looking at real spells and spell-casters from historic pagan religions. The resulting Latin-derived phrases used in the books, piggy-backed on real spell craft language, some of which are quite unsettling. The unforgivable killing curse, ‘Avada Kedavra’ for instance, means ‘let the thing be destroyed’ in Aramaic. This can be interpreted as ‘may the thing lose its essence/soul.’

Reason 4. (Author intent)

There is no under-girding biblical worldview in Harry Potter that would make the magic presented fit in a healthy context, such as exists in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia.

Reason 5. (Sanctification)

Harry Potter doesn’t add anything edifying to a faith journey of grace, and as such won’t be something we will engage with in eternity (i.e. we won’t read Harry Potter in Heaven, so why focus on it now?). There is nothing redeemable in it for the Christian to dwell on in a way that would make them grow (Phil. 4:8).

Reason 6. (Sanctification)

Any possible virtue found in Harry Potter is tainted by the overwhelming presence of forbidden actions (see Reason 1). Therefore, a Christian’s limited time on the Earth would be better spent reading something else more fulfilling – like the Bible.

My responses

Reason 1.

This will take the longest response and will form the basis for the others. So bear with me!

Response part a:

This dramatically misunderstands the biblical passages cited and is guilty of making light of the true nature of ‘forbidden sorcery’ as presented in the Bible. In doing so, this reason actually does exactly what it pushes against: it dulls and nuances our understanding and awareness of evil. Let’s look at the passages (focusing mainly on Deut. 18):

Deut. 18:10-12

Properly understood, what is listed here is ritual child sacrifice, being superstitious over the calendar, performing sleight-of-hand illusions (literally ‘juggling’), using rituals to predict the future (or pretending to, cf. Mic. 3:11), enchanting snakes, talking to the devil and trying to hurt people as a result, and talking to the dead.

Some of these things are about trying to communicate with the dead, to serpents (symbol for evil), to demons, or the devil. Obviously – don’t do that! Some of these things, however, are about the deception of people, usually done to make money. You probably shouldn’t do that either! Neither practice, however, is glorified or encouraged at any point in the Harry Potter books. There is a very clear line between good and evil in Harry Potter, and a broad exposition of good character.

There are two possible exceptions. First, ‘parseltongue’ (talking to snakes). However, the version of parseltongue in Harry Potter is about literal language; so talking to natural snakes, and not reaching out to evil as the snake symbolised in Deuteronomy. Second, using the ‘resurrection stone’ or ‘priori incantatem’ to see ghostly reflections of deceased people. Neither of these, however, are trying to harness the power of dead people to serve the living, neither are they used in ritual worship as would be the context of the passage (which we will now turn to).

You can’t talk about practices in isolation without understanding the wider plot. Interpreting omens, for instance, can be prophecy (Num. 22), Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac in fire by God’s command in Gen. 22, and of course God sacrificed His own Son! As in all things, therefore, the context is key:

This list comes from the rituals well-known among the nations (mostly Canaan/the Philistines) and they sat in a context of idolatrous worship. They represent common religious practices and were used by several historic religions. The ritual sacrifice in fire, for instance, came with Moloch worship (Lev. 20:2). In light of this, the overwhelming concern of Deut. 12-18 is the right worship of God, without allowing idolatrous worship of other ‘gods’ to creep in.

This is not a random cracking of the whip, or a black and white kick against anything that resembles our modern interpretation of words like ‘witchcraft’, but a wholehearted rejection of worshipping any god but the true God. Harry Potter and Deuteronomy are simply not talking about the same things. This is seen further in the other commonly cited ‘anti-sorcery’ passages below.

2 Chon. 33:6

Using the understanding gained above, we can know that the problem Judah’s King Manassah had was engaging in the idolatrous practices of false worship. He had blended (at best) and abandoned (at worse) the worship of the God of Israel with worshipping false gods. The restoration of Manassah was to know God (vv.11-13) and worship Him alone (vv.15-17).

Mal. 3:5

Sorcery here appears in a list of things condemned by the Law and practiced when one does not properly worship God. Again, the issue is being out of relationship with God, and as such adopting the practices of false religion. This comes down to ritualistic and superstitious communication with evil or the dead and is seated in a practice of false religion and idolatry.

Gal. 5:19-21

Paul gives us a list of actions that would flow out of someone who is not filled with the Spirit, contrasted against those that flow out of someone who is filled with the Spirit (vv.22-24). ‘Idolatry and witchcraft’ are a pairing – two sides of the same coin – as we saw in the Old Testament passages.

Rev. 18:23 (cf. 21:8; 22:15)

The guilty party here is the archetypical idolatrous nation of Babylon (probably Rome), which – among other things – tricks people out of worshipping God using a ‘magic spell’. This is linked with to the dishonest merchants, so might be making money from dark magic (as was widely practiced in Rome), however more likely simply means ‘deception’.

Summary

The fallacy of Reason 1. is to assume the modern versions of words like witchcraft mean the same thing in the scriptures – then to interpret those verses in isolation from the original context. This is poor practice and gives poor results.

These verses together paint a picture of the worship of false gods through ritualistic practices which can include talking to evil, the dead, or the devil. The practices themselves were not the problem; but were symptoms of false worship of false gods. This doesn’t condone the practices, however rather than looking at ‘magic’ in vacuum, we need to see the worldview and religion behind it.

It would be better to move away from the simplistic application, ‘don’t have anything to do with anything that looks remotely like magic’ (which would probably render a lot of my best object lessons inert!). Instead we should reach for the whole text and say ‘worship God fully and wholeheartedly in the ways He has instructed’, or even ‘don’t mix your worship of Him with how the world worships things that are not Him.’

Thinking more simply about it, is the issue in Harry Potter that things that look like spells, and omens, and predicting the future using rituals? Or is the issue that Harry Potter encourages us to wholeheartedly accept a false religion, rejecting true worship, while offering us ritualistic and blasphemous worship? I think it’s the former, which is simply not the problem the Bible is responding to.

Response part b.

The reading of something is not exactly the same as the practicing of something.

Even if we grant fully the premise that any possible kind of practice which resembles any kind of magic is a problem biblically, then are we also saying that reading about it is the very same as practicing it?

What is forbidden in the Bible is engaging in the ritualistic practice of false religion. If simply reading about this is the same as engaging with it, then there are a lot more books we should reject including some of our ‘Christian favourites’ such as the Chronicles of Narnia, or the Lord of the Rings.

I’ll admit there is a possibly slippery-slope argument here, but nuance is a powerful tool and is generally preferred (in my opinion) to a wholesale black-and-white rejection without discussion or accountability.

Reason 2

Response.

Much of my response to Reason 1 should answer this question. The worldview of Harry Potter does not condone ritualistic worship or false religion; that is not its point or its worldview, and you would have to read it very particularly to conjure that up (pun intended). Even when the author has borrowed from pagan rituals, they are at best a slightly random collection of heavily interpreted ideas, mashed together and deviated from significantly. Wicca practitioners themselves have rejected the themes of the book as based in their own practices. J. K. Rowling once tweeted:

‘To everyone asking whether their religion/belief/non-belief system is represented at Hogwarts: the only people I never imagined there are wiccans … it’s a different concept of magic to the one laid out in the books, so I don’t really see how they can co-exist.’

There are certainly some very dark moments in the series of books. I would strongly suggest reading Harry Potter with your children, rather than leaving them to it on their own, and having conversations about some of the scarier bits. I would also strongly suggest the same with C. S. Lewis’ work, and of course with J. R. R. Tolkien which I believe can be significantly darker. In fact, many of the texts used in high school today present troubling dark or sinful behaviour too – such as J. D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, or Shakespeare’s Macbeth.

As with all things when discipling or parenting children, we need to be careful, compassionate and consistent. There is no more darkness in Harry Potter than in many other books that we don’t outright reject the same way. Our job is to equip our children – so let’s be with them in it.

Reason 3

Response

Considering the research and motivation is important behind any work of literature. Establishing the views of the author and seeing where they subversively include them in the prose should be taken seriously. That said, the intent behind a thing is not always the same as the thing itself.

J. K. Rowling did research alchemy, religious history, wicca spell-craft, and many other areas we might find unsavoury. She looked a into herbal remedies of medieval history, into Shaman culture of African nations, and into the witch trials of various places. This was all part of her research. However, this research has been fully documented and explained in several places, including an exhibition at the British Library. It did not include the actual practice of such things.

I too have studied somewhat unsavoury culture in my research of the Old Testament. My wife, a fiction writer, often has to research various areas to create fuller character, scenes, and plots. The Inklings (most famously Lewis, Tolkien and C. Williams) researched and studied much of the exact same materials Rowling did when together, and they were primarily a Christian group. This research led to the invention of the Necromancer in Tolkien, for instance, and the witch Jadis in Lewis. In fact, Lewis was heavily influenced by liberal Christian George MacDonald, who had huge swaths of sorcery, mythology, and magic throughout his fantasy writings. Rowling herself was strongly influenced by the Inklings, and you can see echos of their work throughout her own. David Kopel in ‘Deconstructing Rowling’ gives several accounts of this, such as,

‘In the climax of Chamber of Secrets, Harry descends to a deep underworld, is confronted by two satanic minions (Voldemort and a giant serpent), is saved from certain death by his faith in Dumbledore (the bearded God the Father/Ancient of Days), rescues the virgin (Virginia Weasley), and ascends in triumph. It’s Pilgrim’s Progress for a new audience.’

The research of a topic does not equal the practice of what is researched. Assuming a subversive plot to encourage children into actual witchcraft is just not what is going on. Rowling herself quoted in a CNN interview:

‘I absolutely did not start writing these books to encourage any child into witchcraft. I’m laughing slightly because to me, the idea is absurd. I have met thousands of children and not even one time has a child come up to me and said, “Ms Rowling, I’m so glad I’ve read these books because now I want to be a witch.”’

Reason 4

Response

(Warning: Spoilers)

The meta-narrative of the Harry Potter books gives a clear division between good and evil. The evil side tries to rob virtue from all that is good, it tries to control the masses through deception and fear, and it tries to cheat death and ultimately find immortality. The good side, however, is driven by family, servant-hearted sacrifice, teamwork, friendship, and most importantly love.

Love in Harry Potter is presented as the most powerful force in the universe; that which evil underestimates and frankly does not at all understand. Harry Potter is in many ways a modern commentary on the philosophy of love. This love was ultimately shown in self-sacrifice. First, Harry’s mum sacrifices herself for the sake of her son, and then eventually, Harry sacrifices himself for the good of the whole world. His sacrifice is interesting; not only is it very clearly motivated by selfless love for others, but it also ends in resurrection.

The resurrection of Harry provides a powerful protection of love (the same his mother gave to him) over all he had died for. As a result, the evil antagonist can no longer hurt people and is then easily defeated.

This is, quite simply, the clearest fictional presentation of the Gospel in metaphoric form that I have ever seen.

Added to this are a huge array of moral dilemmas resolved healthily with virtue winning out. There is no underage sex, nor are there unhealthy relationships with narcotics or alcohol. Even lying is shown to have serious consequences. It is, in sum, a virtuous exploration of adolescent development, full of emotionally developing relationships and healthily resolved conflicts. Finally, there is a wide range of issues explored that are common to the teenage experience. These include losing parents, death, separation, mental health, bad dreams, exam pressure and the like. Harry Potter actually contains a rich tapestry of discussion topics, almost all of which would be resolved in ways fully compatible with the biblical narrative.

J. K. Rowling calls herself a practicing Christian, and attends church. The explicit amount of Christian theology throughout the book is evidence of a real knowledge of the Gospel. In an interview response to the question, ‘are you a Christian?’ Rowling said,

‘Yes, I am, which seems to offend the religious right far worse than if I said I thought there was no God. Every time I’ve been asked if I believe in God, I’ve said yes, because I do, but no one ever really has gone any more deeply into it than that, and I have to say that does suit me, because if I talk too freely about that I think the intelligent reader, whether 10 or 60, will be able to guess what’s coming in the books.’

Considering the strong Christian themes, the Christian moralistic worldview, and the response Rowling gives of her own faith – we would have to assume that the simple presence of witchcraft alone in the Harry Potter series is enough to reject her worldview as unbiblical. Using that same measure though, we would also have to reject many other fabulous books that also claim an explicit Christian basis.

Reasons 5 and 6

I believe these are responded to above, but on a more personal note, I have found much in the Harry Potter series that has encouraged, edified, and supported my faith. The artistic celebration of self-sacrificing love over evil, the power of resurrection, and the need for a humble saviour demonstrated in the books have often caused me to turn in worship.

I have also found many of the relationships and themes of the book to be useful in my ministry as examples and talking points, and as such have been invaluable as a missionary tool among young people.

In conclusion

Each and every Christian needs to realistically decide for themselves whether or not reading, watching, or listening to any kind of popular media will serve or hinder their relationship with God. I believe Harry Potter falls into this category.

Here’s a few summary points:

  • I am not convinced that the mere presence of magic in Harry Potter is enough to condemn it scripturally.
  • I am not convinced that a lack of distinction between good and evil, or light and dark magic exists in the series.
  • I am not convinced that the assumed ‘glorification’ of some magic as good, encourages people into the sorcery that is explicitly condemned by the Bible; or even that they are even talking about the same thing.
  • I am not convinced that the research inherent in writing good fantasy fiction is the same as practicing the things researched.
  • I am, however, convinced that Harry Potter should be read carefully.
  • I am convinced that some of the darkness in Harry Potter is sometimes taken too far.
  • I am convinced that for some (especially younger children) it should not be read alone.
  • I am convinced of the clear presentation of the Gospel metaphor throughout the wider story, and the constant reminder of the power of love, courage, and friendship.

 

Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash

What to do in the first three months of a new youth work job

/0 Comments/in , , , , /by

This won’t be a popular answer, but you should do nothing. Well, almost nothing.

I was recently at a conference where I overheard a new youth worker tell another youth worker that she was struggling in her brand-new position. The second youth worker’s advice was ‘change as much as you can as quickly as you can.’ I felt like banging my head against the wall… or I felt like banging someone’s head against the wall anyway.

One of the main reasons that youth workers don’t find traction in new positions is that they fly in like superman with brand-spanking new shiny ideas and a completely out-of-context, duck-out-of-water leadership style to boot. Whereas some will see this as a novelty and will try to get behind it, most will treat the over-excited new guy with a healthy level of scepticism.

So slow down puppy.

For your first few months you need to build.  Build credibility (no your CV did not do that), build trustworthiness, build respect, build confidence, and – of course – build relationships. You’re also building up information and research, so the actual changes you’ll make later will sit on something much more like solid ground.

So, here’s my short list of what you should do in your first three months instead:

1. Watch everything

Go to each ministry project that the church or ministry runs. Visit all the homegroups and services. Attend training and meetings. Don’t get stuck into to serving, just watch. Watch, look, listen, and take notes. You’re trying to breathe the culture in, put your finger on the pulse and find the heart (or hearts) of the ministry. Don’t waste this time of watching as a relatively objective outsider – you won’t get it back later.

2. Keep a journal everywhere

Note down some thoughts after every event. Ideally do this under four headings. 1. Who did what when and where? 2. What did I like/do I think worked? 3. What did I not like/do I think didn’t work? 4. Anything else of note? Keep this journal private but do fill it in regularly.

3. Talk to everyone

Accept every dinner invitation and go out for so many coffees that you start to shake. Ask impertinent questions, get people to tell you their stories, and listen actively to what they say. Talk to local schools and government. Talk to other churches and project workers. Make notes in your journal afterwards and reflect. Ask lots and lots of questions – of everyone. Try to withhold judgement and keep the pieces in tension. You’re trying to sense a flavour of people, not just gather facts.

4. Change nothing

Don’t just jump in with your new ideas, learn to listen for the heartbeat. This will build you a foundation that you’ll be able to build solidly on for years to come. Not only does this build you some much needed trustworthiness, but it also gives you the space and information that you’ll need to plan healthily.

How to do this in reality

This starts at interview! You need to make clear that this is your plan for the first quarter, so the ‘interim’ staff or volunteers can’t just pack up and leave in lieu of the new guy coming in. Make sure the pastor or team leader communicates this to the church, teams, and eldership before you start. Then you can hit the ground running by not actually having to run. Winner.

 

Photo by Jonathan Klok on Unsplash