Oh, You're a Youth Minister?

That's a question I have been asked more times than I care to count. And it happened again yesterday.

Generally, people don't mean anything by it. They're not trying to be rude or insensitive or anything. They just have it in their head what a youth minister talks like . . . or looks like . . . or acts like.

And I am definitely not it.

That's okay. It really is. And the more times this happens, the more okay I become with it. But still, it does sting a little bit. And like I said, it's not necessarily the fault of the person who says it. Over the past few decades, people see, more often than not, youth ministers as:
*Trying to look hip with their clothes
*Wearing a goatee (males, mostly . . . I hope)
*A little loud, a little obnoxious
*Very extroverted

If you know me, you know that I am none of the above. But what I have just done above is made a prototype of a youth minister. A person must be (A), (B), (C), or (D) to be a youth minister. And if we don't watch ourselves, these prototypes can easily become a stereotype.

And there's nothing good about stereotypes.

The temptation to do this does not just happen with youth ministers, it happens with all people, in all kinds of different roles. Doing this is part of what it means to be human. People do it to me . . . and I do it to them.

So how do we deal with this? To be honest, I'm not totally sure. I think one thing that helps is getting to know people. It's easy to stereotype a youth minister . . . until you get to know someone doesn't fit that mold. It's easy to think that people of a certain race . . . until you get to know someone who isn't. It's easy to think that people who are homosexual fit into a certain type of mold . . . until you get to know someone who isn't.

A book that sits on my shelf in my office is titled, "This is What a Preacher Looks Like." The aim of the book is to show people that pastors, particularly Baptist pastors in this case, do not look a certain way (they're trying to make the point that pastors do not have to be men) by having people who do not fit the particular mold (women) talk about what it means to them to be a pastor. From the skimming I have done, it seems to be a good read.

But more than anything, I think the title of the book is something for everyone to think about. The next time we think about a mechanic, we should think: "This is What a Mechanic Looks Like." The next time we think about a high school'er, we should think" "This is What a High School'er Looks Like." And on and on the list goes.

Or maybe we shouldn't, maybe we should try to not keep a stereotype in our head (and by the way, I'm pretty sure that's the aim of that book).

In the Bleak Midwinter

As I sit in my office this morning, I look out the window and see a pretty bleak picture.

Now it's beautiful, sure. Lots of trees, a guy walking a dog, a well-maintained street.
But the sky is gloomy. It's almost as if fog is trying to take over . . . but something will not quite let it.

That's Houston, in January. It's about as gloomy as it gets here. The high will be 80 today. Not exactly a chill in the air. But still, it's winter.

As I look out the window, I am reminded that we all have seasons of winter in our lives, seasons of a pretty bleak picture. Times when fog is trying to take over. What sustains us during those times? What gets us through?

The song, "In the Bleak Midwinter" comes over my mind as I sit here this morning. I honestly don't know much about the song. I know that we used to sing it in a former church, in a place where winter really would hit and there would be, from time to time, a biting chill in the air. And I know I always enjoyed singing it and listening to it.

The song is beautiful, peaceful, calming. If you have never heard it, I found this link of a choir singing it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRobryliBLQ

The song ends by saying that the only gift that we can give to the Christ-child is ourselves. As such, it's a beautiful Advent song. The song is also a wonderful reminder, regardless of the season of the year, that during times when we feel a bit bleak, a little down, a little out . . . when we feel that we do not have anything to offer the world that we are a part of, our gift can be ourselves:

What can I give him, poor as I am? 
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; 
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; 
Yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

And so it is, with us, everyday. We may not feel that we have much to offer to others, to the world. We may not have the riches of our neighbor. We may not have the gifts or talents of a friend. But we have ourselves. And we are, each of us, created wonderfully and uniquely to be . . . ourselves.

So today, be you. I promise that will be more than enough for the people around you . . . and for yourself.

The Reality of Losing

After watching the grey sweatshirt coach (Bill Belicheck . . . after all these years, is that the best thing he can roll out to wear) lose and then mope around like a three year-old, one thing is clear to me: we are teaching our young people that it is okay to throw a fit when they lose something.

Having been a youth minister for many years means that I have attended my fair share of youth sporting events. You name it, I have probably been there.

While at these sporting events, I have seen a lot of kids lose. And I have seen a lot of kids absolutely lose it after they lose. They throw fits and are just not able to deal with the reality of losing (And I have to say that, for the most part, those particular situations are normally kids playing against the kids I am there to support-kids from the youth ministries I have been a part of. So at least we've got that going for us.)

I have heard it said that sports is the greatest reality show there is, that it has been reality TV for decades before the concept ever evolved. And I think that's true, to an extent. But if it is reality for winning . . . it's also reality for losing. And somewhere along the way, we are doing a poor job teaching our young people that sports involves both winning . . . and losing.

You see it all over the place. It seems like tennis is the worst. You see tennis players throwing all kinds of fits: from John McEnroe years ago to some of the young up-and-comers today. I saw it a couple of months ago when Nick Saban just could not fathom that his team lost to A&M. Rather than graciously walk across the field and shake hands with the opposing teams' coach, he decided to lay into the referees for what seemed like an eternity. And I saw it again yesterday, when Belicheck stubbornly refused to give the media anything during the post-game media time. Now, to be fair, Belicheck always acts like that. But when he loses, it's ridiculous.

I think it's fine that we tell our kids that we should win and lose graciously. But we cannot expect too much from them if they don't see it on TV . . . or if they don't see it from us.

Standing Out in the Hall

I have started a new job, as of a few weeks ago. When I walk into the building and head up to my office, I walk through the middle of a preschool (funny how life comes full circle, huh?). Long story short is that there is a preschool housed on the first floor of the building I work.

This creates an interesting environment to walk through on the way to my office. It normally puts me in a pretty good mood as I head upstairs to get busy.

One day this week, I walked through the preschool to head over to our main office. I looked down the hall and saw a young child out in the hall with their teacher. Though I do not know the particular circumstances, it was clear that the youngster had done something they were not supposed to; and the teacher was letting them know about it.

Seeing that situation made me laugh. Then it made me cringe, thinking about the fear of getting in trouble by the teacher when I was that age.

That got me to thinking . . . when we see something like that, as adults, one fairly normal reaction is to think, "Whew, glad that's not me" . . . and then move on. And that's pretty normal, I think. We want to be happy with where we are in life. And looking upon a situation like that and thinking that we are glad we are not that age anymore is one way to cope.

But I think if we are all honest, we are still scared of that. We are still scared of getting in trouble and having the teacher get on to us.

I think some of us, consciously, think about it: we don't want to be reprimanded by bosses, people in authority, etc. I think others, probably somewhat unconsciously, think that we do not get in trouble anymore and that we can do whatever we want. But deep down, we know that's not true. We still act out of a system in which we are simply trying to not get in trouble.

Whether we want to admit it or not, there are rules and boundaries that we all have to deal with and live with. Part of our success (or whatever you want to call it) in life has to do with how deal with these rules and boundaries. Do we revert to our four year-old selves and do whatever we want . . . as long as the teacher doesn't see us. Or do we admit that yes, there are rules, and try to live within them.

I would imagine we are all probably somewhere in between.

Us Against Them

While getting ready for the day this morning, Tracy Byrd's "We're From the Country" came across my Pandora shuffle stream. Quite an interesting song to come across my shuffle. But that's Pandora for you.

If you're not familiar with the song, it's about being from the country . . . and why that's better than being from . . . well, not the country. The song tries to make the case that living in the country is better, because in the country everybody knows your name, is friendly, etc.

There's no doubt that there's something to the song. There is a point to be made. And that point, well, is sorta made.

But underneath the song, as well as underneath so much of what we do and say, is an idea that we are better than them, whomever the them might be: city folk, people from another nation, people of another religion, etc.

It's what I've heard called an us against them mentality. I would say it's something that we've struggled with all throughout human history. A good friend of mine, who is a very skilled historian, has said that after 10,000 years (of human history), we're still simply trying to learn to get along with each other.

Just think about it. One thing that is behind so many of our conflicts and fights today . . . is the idea that we are better than them. And if they do not believe it, well then, we'll just show 'em.

I do not mean to rail against Tracy Byrd. I really don't. I like a lot of his music. But it just hit me this morning while in the bathroom getting ready for the day (sorry for the awkward visual). Okay, if you're from the country, that's great. But why does your pride for being that way have to come at the expense of people who aren't?

Why can't we be happy with who we are . . . and let (and maybe even allow) others to be happy with who they are?

A Crushing Loss For the Second Straight Year

A couple of frustrations from today's Sam Houston State University National Championship football game (besides the obvious frustrations of being manhandled for the second straight year, by the same opponent, in the title game):

We sat in front of some pretty frustrating fans. "Frustrating" is probably actually putting it lightly, putting a positive spin on it. These were obviously college students who had been drinking for a while . . . before a game that started at noon.

They were obscene, loud, and just plain rude. Times like these always remind me of a game I attended at Georgia Tech a few years ago. A friend invited me to go; and I greatly enjoyed the day with him. One of the highlights was when he turned around to some drunk college students, annoying us all, and let them have it. He's one of the most gentle souls you'll ever meet. And it was awesome. I had a newfound appreciation for him as that happened.

I found myself in his role today. At one point, I actually began to turn around to get on to them, as there were a number of children all around us, hearing some pretty horrible things. But something stopped me. That's probably for the best.

But that whole episode (and our ensuing headaches for the rest of the day) caused me to think a bit more deeply about it. What's sad to me is not their sad state, the incredibly shrill voice the young lady behind me had that caused my head to pound, or anything else along those lines. What's most saddening to me is that the actions of four people not only affected the way they experienced the game. Their actions had a big impact upon the way many of us did.

When do I (and we all) do things similar to that? When do I cause others around me to have a poor experience of something because of my selfishness, because of my not taking others into account.

One of the genius things about the Christian story, to me, is that it causes us to look outside ourselves, to think not only how am I enjoying/experiencing something . . . but how am I/my actions affecting others' enjoyment/experience of something?

And, at the same time, how can I help others around me to experience and enjoy things more deeply?

It goes both ways.

One other observation: the whole thing where everyone holds up 4 fingers at the end of the 3rd quarter really grinds my gears. It has for a while. I've never really been able to wrap my head around why. But something hit me today.

Doing that (when teams along the sidelines, and their fans in the stands, hold up 4 fingers, signifying that the really important time, the 4th quarter, is about to begin) basically says that what happened the previous 3 quarters is not nearly as important as what is about to happen.

Now sure, the 4th quarter is important, it really is. Many times what happens then decides the game. But that's just crazy to place that much importance on it.

Take today, for example: we got our butts kicked in the 3rd quarter . . . really bad. That was the game. We can hold up four fingers all we want to. But in the stands, we all knew it was over at that point. The 3rd quarter, not the 4th quarter, doomed us today.

But bigger than any of that, the whole four fingers thing says to me that the destination, not the journey, is what is important. And I think that's a pretty narrow way to look at life. If what we are really concerned about is what happens at the very end of an event (or life), we're missing out on a whole lot of really good stuff.

Again, the Christian story is genius. It, at its core, implies, that life is a journey . . . not a destination. Life is to be enjoyed, experienced, really lived out all along the way . . . not just at the very end.

But then again, it's difficult to enjoy some parts of life when a twenty-one year old incredibly intoxicated young woman is screaming in your ear :)

I guess, though, that's part of the journey.

As Johnny Cash says, "I don't like it. But I guess things happen that way."