The Pupil, the Pastor, the Professor, and the dead kitty – A one-act play.

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Scene: The trying -slightly-too-hard-to-be-cool community coffeeshop that’s attached to the local Bible College. Professor and Pastor are making small talk over lattes.

Enter pupil

Pupil – Professor, Pastor, I have a question.

Professor and Pastor, together in excited unison – Of course!

Pupil – My little cat Whiskers died last night. Will I see her again in Heaven?

Pastor – Oh my poor, poor… poor dear. That’s so sad. Aw, no. So sad indeed. Oh dear, my poor dear. I’m so sorry for your loss. Was poor Whiskers in your family a long time? Was it very sudden? Was she in much pain? Oh, I’m so, so sorry my poor dear!

Pupil – Um, thanks Pastor, that’s nice. But you didn’t really answer my question.

Professor – Maybe I can help you my young fruit. No. No you will not. Animals of the feline variety are not human, and thus – like humans – do not have existential existence beyond the finite and physical reality of this world. What you call a ‘Whiskers’ is simply the over-emotional and irrational construct of an inanimate lifeform without a soul or indeed any sense of self. Your attachment to her is delusional and entrenched in the sinfully depraved nature of humanity. You will not see, her or indeed any kitty, puppy, bunny, or even Bulgarian budgie in the eternal rest. You should stop mourning immediately. Perhaps you should repent?

Pupil is in shocked silence with her mouth hanging slightly open, making mumbling starts at trying to speak again.

Pastor – Urm, well, I think what my learned colleague is trying to say is that poor, sad Whiskers, who was such an important part of your life and family, and whose life was tragically cut short, in fact does have a soul, because she was bought to life when you loved her. Your love will continue forever into Heaven, and so your love for poor Whiskers will see her bought to life – resurrected even – in Heaven! She is in a better place because you loved her.

Pupil, raising a finger gently – Oh. Ok… but wh…

Professor (interrupting) – Well, actually, it may be that what Pastor is failing to tell you truthfully, is that your love is a poor, dim reflection of the Creator’s, and so can’t possibly create anything – and especially not in Heaven. What an absurd idea indeed! Your love is sinful, and that damned cat never loved you anyway! No. Whiskers is gone. Dead as a post. Demised, deceased, perhaps decapitated, and gone for ever. She never really ‘was’. Deal with it.

Pastor, turning to Professor and standing – how can you be so insensitive? This poor young girl has lost a treasured member of her family!

Professor, also standing, pushing Pupil aside facing off to Pastor – well how can you be so deceptive. It helps the girl nothing by lying to her!

Professor and Pastor continue in this vein, their voices steadily getting higher and more intense, while the other coffeeshop patrons awkwardly stare intently into their grande mugs.

Pupil slowly slips away unnoticed.

 

Photo by Kilyan Sockalingum on Unsplash

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

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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.

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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

 

Are you addicted to controversy?

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Just before Christmas I wrote a post discussing what we mean when we call our Bible a sword. As a postscript I added the thoughts below, but after further reflection – and as a recovering controversy-addict myself – I think these thoughts are worth standing on their own and expanding, which is the point of this post.

That said this is a scary post for two reasons: It boldly calls something out – which should always be done with gentleness and respect; and it includes some of the narrative of one of the biggest battles of my life – which is monumentally exposing. But God is good – and I hope this is helpful to someone.

Are you a controversy addict?

Do you desire the Bible to be a weapon? Do you try to justify rude, blunt, confrontational, quarrelsome, disagreements among brothers and sisters using theological language? Why?

Is it a buzz?

Wait with that thought for a second… do you get the buzz from being involved in controversy?

The beginning of addiction

I spent a bit of time on debate teams when I was younger. We were taught to exploit every possible weakness, and to polarise views to their extremes in order to win. Neither conversational progress, nor the deepening of understanding was the objective. Iron-sharpening-iron was not on the agenda. The objective was to win the argument – and I was very good at it.

The victories and the point-by-counterpoint take downs came with a surprising adrenaline rush that is hard to forget. I know exactly what it feels like to ’emerge supreme’ from a debate. It’s a buzz. A real physical and emotional rush.

After a while, this came with both a physiological release of dopamine and an existential sense of self worth. These two things made it incredibly addictive.

It felt good – and it made me feel good about me!

A growing issue fueled by discontentment

For some of us, this rush of ‘rightness’ and ‘winning’ can eventually change into a much healthier shape within the context of our faith. We grow more mature and nuanced, seeking goodness and edification over simply being right. For others of us though, it can subversively become the primary mover in our lives and as such becomes a true addiction.

As an addiction, it is fed by discontentment.

Things like bad church experiences, poor health, a sheltered or stymied upbringing, a consistent feeling of isolation, a sense that you are always misunderstood, or even an above average IQ mixed with social awkwardness – can all lead to a broad experience of discontentment.

This, when ‘treated’ by the balm of the rush of winning an argument, or trying to be always right, or constantly in the know, will turn that rush into an addictive defense mechanism. We become couch-commentators and pew-bound back seat pastors, stewing in our own hyper-logical, negative energy-soaked discontentment. And it goes unnoticed because we have dressed it up in the language of ‘holiness.’

This is probably the same thing that makes us want to pull people down rather than build them up. It’s the thing that makes us reach – sometimes desperately and wildly – for controversy over edification. It’s what makes us look for the problems with everywhere we go and every talk we hear. It makes us always need to have something to say, even if means slipping off to goggle, then pretending we just ‘knew’ it.

Subversively replacing ‘normal’ behavior

This need to be constantly right, smart, and winning, really can be genuinely addictive, and as when it becomes so, it can easily replace ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’ human behavior and it can surround us with a self-delusional air of justification. Let’s make no bones about it, it is self-delusional, and the only people who thinks it’s normal is us, or fellow addicts.

Some of us – me included – love to poke holes in a position while building a watertight alternative. There can be some goodness in that when surrendered to God to be used in its right place. However, if this is not motivated by the great commission, moved foremost and uppermost by love for Jesus and people, and then delivered in gentleness and prudence, then it really counts for squat. It’s worse than nothing – it’s actually idolatry because we’re making ourselves out to be the thing most valued and praised.

Being right, even about Gospel truths, can become sinful and disconnected from God.

Is this you?

Think about it for a minute. Do you have fake debates in your head? Do you argue with strawman opponents when alone in the car ?

Do you feel primarily compassion or urgency when you hear something you think is incorrect?

Do you sum up huge swaths of people into tightly categorized and broadly reduced a-personal units?

Do you use social media platforms, younger audiences, and impressionable people to try out your views where they are easy to defend, edit, and impress?

Do you write people off quickly, or summarize them totally before you have a chance to be a brother or sister to them?

Bottom line: Are you on a adrenaline fueled, self-image-enhancing crusade for ‘rightness’ or a compassion-driven commission by Jesus for truth? What motivates your corrections and what focuses your criticisms? Is it Jesus, or is there something else going on?

So, what do I do?

I talk boldly here as an addict. I’ve been in the worst depths of these places and know exactly what it’s like to love ‘rightness’ more than I love righteousness. Or – frankly – more than I love Jesus. I know what it’s like to appear superior, rather than pursue humility – and I still struggle with these passions daily. I’ve been praying for God to change the shape of my heart in these areas for years – which is why I quit my debate team.

This is also why I don’t debate on facebook, don’t post thoughtless provoking memes, don’t talk politics unless its face-to-face, try to hear each position for the first time when a new person shares it as their own, and try my best to ask more questions during a disagreement than just give answers. It’s flipping hard (especially that last one), but it allows me to surrender myself and others to Jesus much more readily. He really doesn’t need me to defend Him, after all. Just love Him, love others, and pursue the great commission.

If your overwhelming passion – when you’re totally honest with yourself – is to be ‘right’, then it might be that you need to take a personal inventory and rediscover your first love for Jesus.

Or – moment of truth – it might just be that this Christianity thing isn’t what you were looking for, and isn’t what you thought it was. Think about it, does your faith primarily ignite your heart or feed your addiction? If the latter, then it’s probably not the faith Jesus gave.

Maybe you need to let Christianity out of the ego-shaped box you’ve put it in and actually surrender to the living Christ afresh… or even for the first time.

I say this very carefully, but as someone who has gotten this wrong far more than he has gotten it right. I’ve decided, however, to follow Jesus – this means I have to want Him to be praised and loved more than I want to be right. Hopefully, under His grace and leading, I can be both, but I know which way I need to balance to tip. It’s a journey – but it’s the right one to walk.

I’ve been tackling this issue personally and directly for about twelve years now – since it was identified in me. I keep cutting off heads and finding new ones but the battle is well worth it and God is so good!

If this is you – please, look it in the face and seek more of God in your life and less of you. Talk to friends, seek community membership (not always leadership), listen more, speak less, slow down, and ask God to melt your heart with His love. It will be so much better!

Thanks for reading 🙂

 

Photo by Miguel Henriques on Unsplash

Are you called to ministry? The fundamental question.

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Who do you want to serve?

The greatest commandment says to love God with every ounce and fibre of your being and it says to love other people like you do yourself (Matt. 22:36-40).

Basically…

Do you love God and love others?

Or

In reality – do you want to serve your own needs?

  • Do you want to minster the great love of Jesus to the great needs of broken people?
  • Are you so moved in praise and heartfelt gratitude to God that this overflows in a Jesus-like passion for others?
  • Do you recognise that people are flawed and vulnerable, and need the message of the Gospel to dwell in them richly as a grace-and-mercy response to their lives?
  • Are you overwhelmed with the story of the Cross to the point that if you don’t call it out of others, you’ll dry up into a nothingness husk?

Or

  • Are you most passionate about ‘fixing people’s theology’ and ‘rooting out the heretic’?
  • Do you see facts, figures, viewpoints, doctrines, worldviews, and belief systems before you see real actual people holding them?
  • Are you looking to scratch an itch that allows you to read all day and show off your knowledge at the weekends?
  • Do you want to create an audience for your teaching or debate abilities?
  • Are you thinking more about God than you are worshipping God?

What about the ‘ministry qualifications’ from Titus and Timothy?

Titus 1 and 1 Timothy 3 both give fabulous qualifications for ministry, but these are for after you have established the initial passion and drive which we traditionally call ‘calling’.

Calling is a fundamental move of the Holy Spirit in your life that wells up as a desire to fulfil the great commandment and live it out in the great commission. It is supported by grace and driven by mercy. It begins in humility and grows deep roots of dependence on God for all you need.

Your CV won’t get you into ministry; God will get you into ministry. Ministry is a miracle calling which God produces and provides. At interview, your heart for, and relationship with Him is what should bleed through. Your experience and qualifications are simply the evidence of that heart. They are the smoke to the fire of God.

Ambition vs. Calling

Ambition for ministry is not the same thing as calling to ministry. Start with these few questions:

  • Do I love God?

How is that love manifest in my life?

 

  • Do I love Jesus Christ, as God?

How does the story of the cross dwell in me personally?

 

  • Do I love the Holy Spirit, as God?

What dependency do I show Him every day I live?

 

  • Do I love the Father, as God?

What would I do and how would I live as a response to His will?

 

  • Do I love ‘non-Christian’ people?

Do I primarily see them as human beings needing the mercy of God?

 

  • Do I love Christian people?

Do I see them as human beings on a careful and precarious journey of grace?

 

  • Do I love people who agree with me?

Do I use them as a comfort and support for my ego?

 

  • Do I love people who disagree with me?

Am I willing to push through the thin veil of human worldviews and see the life of Christ and needs of the flesh within them?

 

  • Do I love people?

Do I want them to know and experience the same love of God that I know and experience?

 

Photo by Nathan Bingle on Unsplash

Is it your responsibility to make the people you love ‘feel’ loved?

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A couple of days ago, a famous pastor in America quoted this:

Although Pastor John Piper has become an increasingly divisive figure in the past decade, there were much stronger responses than I expected. These included:

I was pretty confused by responses, and I hurt by the way they made harsh assumptive judgements on his own parenting and kids. This said, I was still sympathetic with some of their passions. I wonder if a little thought experiment would help?

Is love an emotion?

One of the strongest driving points from these tweets is that love is primarily and essentially a feeling. Five decades of Hollywood romance has taught us this! Although love can be a descriptor for a complicated set of powerful emotions, the word itself is historically a verb.

Love is an action then, it’s something that we do. When we love someone, we don’t simply feel towards them (although that may come with it), but we serve them, we help them, we lift them up, we support them, we stand with them, and we protect them. Sometimes we do things that are best for them that they just won’t like.

Should we be in control of how people ‘feel’?

We do these loving things because we love them, not because we need them to feel loved. Think about the motivation here: Do we do loving things because we love… or do we do loving things to make them feel loved?

If our motivations to do loving things is primarily the latter, then the former is simply not required. You could hate someone’s guts and still do things to make them ‘feel’ loved.

Being motivated by the ability to manipulate their emotional state at best cheapens the experience of love, and at worst is actually abuse. We have to love people and allow them to the room to respond to it out of the freedom of their own experiences and judgements.

One of the key indicators of human maturity is the knowledge that we just cannot control the feelings of those around us, or their interpretations of our actions.

Piper’s tweet uses the words ‘guaranteeing’ that they feel love. Can we ever do this? For anyone? Can you guarantee that the person you love will feel the love they should?

We should love genuinely, passionately, and authentically – motivated by loving someone, not by trying to guarantee their emotions. It’s great when someone feels loved, and of course we hope for that! Devaluing love because you can’t guarantee that it will be felt is just… well, odd, and frankly dangerous.

What about when people just don’t feel loved… even when we are loving?

If people don’t feel loved by our loving actions, would it necessarily mean that we’re loving ‘wrong’, or that our love is in some way defective, broken, or immature? Surely not.

Is it loving to pick a drunk person off the floor and get them into a taxi home? Most likely, but it’s pretty unlikely they’ll remember us. Does this mean they were not properly loved because they didn’t feel loved?

What about making your kids eat their greens, take baths, go to school, do their homework, or turn off their xbox? What about watching out for who they are friends with or grounding them for being misbehaved?

God tells us that he disciplines those he loves. He reminds us of this exactly because they didn’t feel loved (Pr. 3:12; Heb 12:4-12). Is God’s loving discipline somehow defective? Does God need to readdress his understanding of people’s love languages?

We hope that people we love will always feel loved – of course we do! There doesn’t have to be a dichotomy between the two. However, one doesen’t guarantee the other, and in doubt, do the loving thing and don’t hold your own actions captive to someone’s subjective feelings.

 

Photo by Ali Yahya on Unsplash

Let’s stop telling future youth ministers to skip training!

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(Sorry – slightly ranty post)

Over the past decade, Bible Colleges in Britain have really started to struggle getting people to apply. This has been most clearly seen in youth work courses. Not only have several large and well-established youth work training centres now closed, but many of the biggest Bible Colleges in the UK don’t even have a dedicated youth work teacher.

I find this really weird, because also over the past decade, loads of deep-thinking books and resources have come out on youth work. There is a plethora of relational practice books, education theory journals, and new Phds published on youth work theology released each year. The knowledge base is constantly growing – I thought we were just starting to get it?

Ministry Lite?

Youth ministry has been seen as ministry lite for a while now. From the outside it looks like underpaid, entertainment driven purgatory – waiting for ‘real’ ministry later. Only a cursory glance into the youth work world, however, would reveal just how many areas youth ministers need to be carefully developed in.

They need to be trained theologically for sure; but they also need to understand HR, safeguarding law, project management, working with additional needs, and a mountain of other very specific, and vocationally professional areas.

Youth ministry is no joke. Done badly it can bring down a church, done really badly it can bring the  entire Gospel into genuine disrepute. And it’s now easier than ever to make huge mistakes without even being aware of the issues.

So why are we so blasé about formal training?

Paediatric doctors will train for years. As will mental health nurses, psychiatrists, counsellors, sports coaches, and of course teachers. We see these as professions which require putting real effort into training. We take these seriously because they are involved with the care of vulnerable young people. But wait – isn’t that exactly what we do in youth ministry?

Taking Youth Ministry Seriously

Youth work is no joke. It involves holistic care and theological security. Youth workers – especially those in lead ministry positions – need training. Experience alone simply doesn’t cut it; theological illiteracy is too epidemic, laws change too quickly, and young people vary too widely.

I’m not saying for one second that youth workers need to be more intellectual or more academic – but come on! A little hard effort into understanding complex issues and deep truths about young people goes for miles in youth work.

In most of my posts I’m totally on the youth worker’s side – but in this one I’m asking the impertinent question: What are you doing to show that you take your own ministry seriously? Are you enrolling on courses, reading books, going to training regularly, and asking for a bigger budget to do just that?

I really believe that youth workers should see their role as a calling – something long term. If you believe that’s you, then taking a few years (yes years!) out to do proper foundational training should be seen as an obvious thing to do.

Training doesn’t replace experience of course, nor should it eclipse your own reading, but you can build concurrently and afterwards. It’s much easier to gain experience while training than it is to train while working.

Why would you not?

There are several routes into youth ministry, and many of them don’t require any formal training: Internships, apprenticeships, or graduating from voluntary work are often the most regularly travelled paths.

I love these options and I’ve seen some great youth workers come out of these routes too. However, there are often (if not always) signifiant holes in their ministries that need to be plugged.

When someone asks me about youth work training – and specifically about getting a degree – I always ask: why would you not? Yes, some people hate the classroom and really don’t do well with traditional academic methods – but there is now so much choice in the UK for youth workers who feel just like this. There is also a wide range of funding options, distance learning courses, and timeframes to consider. You can usually discover a good fit if you put the effort into finding out.

There is a lot of criticism levied against formal theological training: It’s not worth the money, universities are too hampered by their awarding bodies, youth don’t need another pasty-faced academic, I’d rather just be doing it, I can get all the same information from books. However, I’ve only ever heard those arguments from people who decided not to train. The Dunning-Kruger effect comes to mind.

The fact remains that the best youth workers I’ve ever met are both well-experienced, and formally-trained. They didn’t feel like they we’re already ‘good enough’ to skip it and move on, and they didn’t feel like youth work didn’t deserve the time or the effort. They are doing amazing work today that will long outlast them!

Is it always necessary to get a degree?

It probably sounds like I’m saying that right? Well, no it’s not… but I’d like us to start seeing degree-level-trained youth ministers as the norm rather than the exception. At the moment there are a lot less formally trained youth workers out there, and I’d really like to see the balance tip.

So there are genuine ways you should be able to go into youth ministry without getting formally trained – but I’d love to see that as the exception, not the rule.

There are experiences, information, and learning environments that you just cannot get any other way – from people who are paid to stay up-to-date and informed – in a space designed for you to make lots of mistakes and ask lots of questions. Why would you not see that as the first option?

So get on it!

Formal theological and practical training in youth ministry is worth every minute.

Rather than asking ‘what else could I do’, start looking at training as the first option. You wouldn’t want a doctor working on you without proper training, or a mechanic working on your car with big gaps in their knowledge. Lets take youth ministry at least as seriously.

:P That is all.

Rant over.

Dear Pastors, please protect your youth workers

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Over the last few years I’ve been collecting stories of youth workers who have had terrible times in their job because the pastor didn’t know how to properly mediate between themselves and the church.

A year or so after first starting full-time youth ministry, I had my very own initiation to this issue. I had run my first very large holiday club and someone on the team had decided to create, distribute and compile people’s feedback of the event. That was a good idea!

What this person actually did, however, was to take in the feedback forms, distill all the ‘good’ feedback into 4 very clipped bullet points, then proceed to berate me personally across 10 pages of ‘negative’ feedback. It was deeply personal, it was heavily exaggerated, and frankly it was legally slanderous.

To make matters worse, this heavily biased feedback report was then circulated to 40 members of the church leadership and holiday club team which included several young teenage helpers.

It wasn’t sent to me. Instead, I found out about it when three young people came to me incredibly upset, saying they never wanted to serve in that church again. They didn’t just disagree with the feedback, they were shocked that a Christian could speak so ungracefully about another person.

As a 21-year-old youth worker, I was totally broken. I took this to my two Senior Pastors who were equally shocked and dismayed. They went through the tirade with me point by point, to see whether there were actually some genuine areas that needed to be improved upon. Mostly it simply came down to producing earlier communication, and trying to print T-shirt logos straighter.

What didn’t happen, however, was any conversation with the person that compiled the feedback. They were not challenged or rebuked. There not held accountable to what they produced, and no further communication happened with the 40 recipients of the report.

I was left totally confused and vulnerable.

Not only did I feel abandoned, but the lack of response gave the person who made the report free license to continue to make my life difficult in the following years. They served in a position on the church council, and continually destabilised my work personally.

This was 10 years ago now, but it still smarts. There’s no closure and nothing that can be done about it. It needed a firm, and properly directed response from the person charged with my car. But to maintain decorum, and out of fear, I was left without protection.

This comes up now because recently I’ve heard three more stories similar of youth workers who have lost health, security, and jobs because the Pastor failed in one of their most basic tasks.

Dear Pastors…

I know you have a very difficult job, but get your priorities straight. Your first task is to be responsible for those under your immediate care. That’s your family, and then your team. Youth Workers have it hard. They are often young, inexperienced, with new families, and thin skin. Don’t train them to defend themselves from the congregation they need to integrate within.

Sometimes, Mr Pastor, you have to be the bad cop, and take the very special care of those charged was looking after the most vulnerable members of your congregation.

7 volunteer leaders that your youth ministry could do without

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I love working with volunteers – its one of the best things about being a youth worker. Volunteers are there because they want to serve, and they usually come without the baggage of entitlement demands and complaints. Volunteers blow me away all the time because of the energy they give to projects while expecting so little in return.

I’m hugely blessed right now to have an awesome team. All of my volunteers are a total credit to themselves and to the God they serve. The young people love them, and they support me in more ways than they know.

It hasn’t always been this way though. I’ve managed teams of volunteers for over a decade, and I totally understand the pressures of constantly needing more help. There are, however, just some volunteers that you could do without.

I’m a big believer that your ministry should match your resources, and that you should steward what you have, before you try and do more than what you can manage. Youth workers, however, are under constant pressure to grow numerically. This means a bigger team. Then begins the desperate pleas for help in the notices, and the increasingly lax expectations and requirements from your volunteers before they serve.

My volunteers go through a process which includes an application form, interview, references, police check, and probation period. Here are some of the potential volunteers that I turn away.

1. Just there to make up numbers

Occasional willing help to keep young people safe by bolstering ratios is an ok thing to do. Having a volunteer on team, however, that doesn’t want to be there, but are simply worried that the youth group might collapse without them is just not helpful. They ooze disinterest and will more than likely be a limp member of the team.

Better a smaller youth group with a devoted and committed team, than a big one with disinterested and unengaged leaders any day.

2. No servant heart

One of the reasons that I love my team so much is that they get stuck into everything. They’ll commit prep time in the week, they’ll clean up without being asked, or they’ll arrive early and move chairs.

Volunteers who only come just wanting to be the spiritual big shot are simply not worth your time. Starting with a Christlike servant heart should the foundational basis that anyone wanting to serve in ministry.

3. Not teachable

When I look for a new volunteer, I keep my eye out the people that display faithfulness, availability, and teachability. A teachable person asks more questions than they give answers. They listen carefully before making judgemental statements, they respond well to ideas and corrections, and they respect the authority of the leader.

An unteachable person is often cynical, loudly opinionated, vocally dominant and undermining. They can be argumentative and they can foster gossip. If a volunteer cannot demonstrate teachability, then they will do little to help the wise development of your young people.

4. Empire builders

We’ve all heard that we shouldn’t build empires we should build kingdom, and it’s true. A kingdom-building volunteer comes on to a team to serve Jesus in that ministry and to see how they can fit within it uniquely. An empire-building volunteer comes on expecting the ministry to serve their own aspirations.

An empire builder often talks about how they would do better, and how they started because they could fix what you were doing wrong. Even if they’re right about areas that need to change, their attitude will sink the ministry long before you can make any healthy changes.

5. Unreliable

I have a busy team of people who lead full lives with jobs and family. For that reason I do my best to set realistic expectations and develop rotas that work for them individually. Leaders who often don’t show up when they say they will, or are consistently late are quickly taken off our rosters.

An unreliable team means an unreliable youth ministry; meaning the young people can’t trust it. It’s important that each volunteer signs a contract of expectations at the beginning of their time, and are then held accountable to it. Just because volunteers are not staff, does not mean they don’t have to keep to agreed expectations – especially when it affects the security of vulnerable young people.

6. Called to other ministries

Sometimes brilliant volunteers show up with fantastic attitudes, but it becomes clear that really they are called to a different ministry. Although it may be heartbreaking and gut-wrenching to let them go, you too are called to build the kingdom and not your empire.

Making sure that you have regular supervision sessions with your volunteers should help you understand if there is a better fit for them elsewhere. If you release them, God will honour and provide.

7. Haven’t earned it

One of the most obvious places to get new team members from is graduating young people when they become legal adults. I love this life cycle and believe it’s essential to develop young people eventually into adult team members. However, if they did not demonstrate a servant heart, if they were not teachable, and if they were constantly disrespectful towards the acting team – then I will not allow them to volunteer without some clear evidence of change.

We should set realistic, but high standards for our team. We’re not looking for perfect people (look at the disciples!), but faithful, available, and teachable people who are properly committed, servant-hearted and know where to place their priorities.

I’m totally blessed by my team today after a long time of cultivation and development. It was really worth the effort and the hard conversations. Does your team need some work?

You mean I’m not God? A 10 step guide to the youth worker power trip.

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Let’s be honest kids, being a youth worker can give you a delicious feeling of power.

As the cool teacher, relatable counsellor, replacement parent, uber best-friend, and sassy sage figure, its easy to come away from interacting with your young people feeling all powerful. I mean, you get to teach what you want, give poignant advice to hormone-ridden and desperate young people, while simultaneously beating them at all their favourite games, and letting off an all-knowing air.

You can shape theology, guide political affiliations, and even mould dreams and aspirations. You can cut down with a word and build up with a look. You can even design exactly what you think God should look like to them.

This is the responsibility of a teacher for sure (James ____) but it’s more than that. A youth worker is put into a much broader, potentially life-shaping context with the most vulnerable and impressionable people imaginable. It’s easy to make yourself their sole spiritual, mental and emotional guide.

So, here are ten easy things to remember next time you start coming over all Gody:

  1. Just don’t.

Let God be God, and you be the big arrow that points to God. When that arrow starts turning inward, run away screaming.

 

  1. Let other people teach

Allow other voices to speak into their lives; don’t let it all come down to you.

 

  1. Be accountable to people who know how to hold you accountable

Don’t have yes-men mentors. Look instead for people who know how to ask you the uncomfortable questions like, ‘have you been acting like God today?’

 

  1. Don’t set up teachers for failure

Don’t start every sentence with ‘your teachers don’t know what they’re talking about because…’ On some occasions that’ll be true, but don’t pretend you know everything about everything, especially when the teacher isn’t there to defend themselves.

 

  1. Don’t set them against their parents

Very similarly, make sure that you are working with parents and not against them. Parents are not always perfect, but it’s not doing anyone favours by gossiping about them to their kids to make you look coolers.

 

  1. Say you don’t know

Don’t waffle and make stuff up when you don’t know what you’re talking about. ‘Always have an answer…’ in PETER ___ doesn’t mean pretend you know everything. You’re not all-knowing; say you don’t know and ask what they think. Explore together.

 

  1. Keep tight control of your boundaries

Don’t be omniscient – by which I mean always available. Keep to your working hours and days off.  Keep your personal numbers personal, and don’t drop everything to be available.

 

  1. Point to other resources and connect to other people

Your job is to facilitate the young people within the Body of Christ, so do just that. All roads should not point back to you, but they can converge on you as you help them connect to awesome resources and people that can do what you can’t

 

  1. Remember who your God is

Keep your relationship with God fuelled and growing. Keeping yourself in humble perspective with Him should help you stay in the healthy human zone.

 

  1. Don’t be an ass

When things don’t go your way, deal with it like a person, not an overly-justice-obsessed wrath mongerer. You’re not perfect, nobody is. Conflicts will happen and mistakes will too – get on with things. Apologise, forgive, move on, and be that big arrow that points back to God.