All I Said Was #*%$: Stories From a Lifetime of Youth Ministry

Introduction

Do you want undeniable proof that God has a sense of humor?

Here it is: he has invited me to play a role in building his Kingdom here on earth.

That’s right. Flawed, broken, messed-up me.

I’m not being falsely modest when I say that I’m grossly inadequate for the task to which I’ve been called. Trust me. It’s been independently verified. Over and over again.

In fact, over my more than thirty years of youth ministry I’ve been accused of being irreverent, unholy, inappropriate, misguided, and even vulgar. I suspect that this book may reinforce some of those opinions. Since you’ve made it past the title and have actually opened it, I’m hoping I have a chance of convincing you otherwise. In fact, I like to think that these accusations are overstated but, believe me, I’m far from perfect. Real? Yes. Authentic? I sure try to be. But never purposefully improper or impious.

All this puts me in pretty good company. I’m not in any way comparing myself to Jesus but, if you recall, he had accusers too. They used words like drunkard. Glutton. Blasphemer. Why? Because he went places deemed improper. He hung out with people considered unworthy. He said things judged controversial. His authenticity angered and offended those wanting something else.

What’s my point, you ask? Throwing picnics on a hillside, attending weddings in a village, eating meals with outcasts, and having conversations with society’s castaways made Jesus approachable. It made his Good News accessible. How else can you explain people in the street boldly reaching for him? Or a bunch of crazy guys cutting a hole in a roof so they could get their buddy seen by him?

This is the approach Jesus modeled for us. So why have we turned following him into something completely different? Why have we squeezed the joy out of living for him?

It’s not my intent to downplay the importance of preaching and teaching, but that isn’t the ministry God has called me to. I have been called to prepare the soil for planting. And sometimes that means stepping in manure.

Please don’t misunderstand me. The challenge we face when being honest with ourselves about who we are, and real with other people, is making sure that we don’t justify any and all activities in the name of ministry. We’re warned, after all, about the consequences of leading our brother or sister into sin. There are lines that can’t be crossed. The difficulty is that the line moves and we disagree about where it lies. So we do our best and we pray for discernment and wisdom and, more than occasionally, forgiveness.

I’ve found that ministry happens best as a part of real life. Authentic people are approachable. We experience joy in life’s spontaneous moments. I believe that the vast majority of people are drawn to the Gospel not by words on a page, but by other folks living their lives as a celebration of the gift they’ve been given. It is through this initial attraction, and then through the cultivation of personal relationships, that most people are introduced to him. Christian activist and author Shane Claiborne has said, The more I have read the Bible and studied the life of Jesus, the more I have become convinced that Christianity spreads best not through force but through fascination. I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve been forced to listen to far too many sermons that were far from fascinating. But Christians who live an authentic and inviting life overflowing with joy? Give me some of that.

Donald Miller, in his book Blue Like Jazz, puts it this way: Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It’s as if they are showing you the way.

People who see Christianity as nothing more than a long list of Thou Shalt Nots are often intrigued by Christians who live their lives authentically. They won’t experience that through folks who never leave their Sunday school classrooms.

Personal experience has proven this to me. Over the last thirty years I’ve done more than my share of preparing and planning. I have files full of talks that I’ve spent hours researching and writing and binders brimming with retreat instructions and mission trip devotionals. I’ve taught hundreds of lessons, led dozens of retreats, and guided scores of Bible studies. Yet ministry happens in the cracks. It happens in those unplanned, spontaneous, real-life experiences that are often messy and, believe it or not, don’t usually include hymns or responsive readings. God often uses these moments of unplanned authenticity and community in ways that make our stumbling, fumbling, and bumbling efforts to further his Kingdom, well, funny. Hilarious, even.

So why risk proving my accusers correct by putting these stories to paper? I believe there are several reasons and, to keep things as clear as possible, I’ll number them one through six below:

One: There’s only ever been one perfect person in history, and none of us are Him. If these stories prove anything, it’s that things will rarely—if ever—go the way you plan. Go ahead. Take a big sigh of relief. Knowing that you’re not omnipotent should take a load off your shoulders. Although this fact doesn’t in any way relieve of us the responsibility to do everything we do to the best of our ability, it’s reassuring to be reminded that things will go wrong—and that God will do marvelous things regardless. If nothing else, these stories will assure you that when things go wrong you’re not alone.

Two: Authenticity is attractive. Not in the physical sense, but from the standpoint of attracting attention and curiosity. One of the two criticisms I hear most often about Christianity is that Christians are hypocrites who don’t live the life we profess. Being who we are—warts and all—is almost always refreshing and fascinating to those who expect something else. These stories will reinforce the idea that admitting our brokenness will break down barriers and provide us the opportunity to point to the source of our hope and joy.

Three: Redemption doesn’t just take place after we’re done breathing. God’s work of renewal and restoration takes place in the here and now. Using broken people to further his Kingdom here on earth is a wonderful representation of that. These stories will remind us that Jesus can redeem even the most misguided and clumsy efforts of people just like you and me for his glory.

Four: God loves to use broken people to build His Kingdom. Moses. Gideon. Samson. Rahab. David. Jonah. Peter. Paul. God has a habit of using imperfect people to point us to him. By doing so, he reminds us of our need to rely on him. It also makes us more relatable to those around us; it frees us from thinking we need special qualifications to serve Him; and it protects us from the danger of boasting about our accomplishments.

Five: If teaching in parables was good enough for Jesus, then it’s good enough for us. Believe me, I’m no great teacher. In fact, after having completed numerous spiritual gift assessments, I can tell you that teaching is not one of my gifts. These stories have value in and of themselves. But I also believe they contain lessons that extend beyond each individual story. I’ve done my best to use them to point out what I consider greater truths. If I’ve sometimes extended the metaphor beyond what seems plausible, well, forgive me for that as well!

Six: There is tremendous joy in being right where God has called you to be. I don’t downplay the pain and suffering that may come your way as a follower of Jesus. Christ himself tells us that a life spent following him will require us to pick up our own cross. However, my desire is that these stories remind us to slow down and pay attention to what’s happening all around us. After all my years of ministry I could be excused for thinking that I’ve seen it all. Having interacted with tens of thousands of kids it’s easy to imagine that I’ve seen