Bridges for Youth

     Once upon a time in the make believe town of Uveoffendedmeville there was always someone protesting.  The concierege at the hotel I was staying in had a long list of local protests that I could attend on the morrow. 

The highlight of Saturdays protests was just a few blocks away, where a group of churchy folks wanted to put in a homeless shelter and kitchen. Smaller protests were organized in other parts of Uveoffendedmeville, and it really didn’t matter who you were, you could find something to shout about.

A small group would be protesting outside of city hall on Saturday concerning the poor condition of the streets and the canyon sized pot holes.  As I understand it, there had been quite an uproar lately about the closing of a local factory, so several of the former workers and local citizens were planning a vehement protest.

As I settled down in my room that night I had a dozen or so protests that were mulling around in my mind.   I was intent on making a difference and that was the whole idea of this weekend trip to Uveoffendedmeville. “Where?” I asked myself, “Can I protest and manifest a positive change in this community.”  Sleep came to me quickly as I wrestled with the opportunities that were before me.

 Although I had the deluxe suite and had paid out the big bucks to assure a good nights sleep, a night full of contrasting images was what filled my mind and caused me to toss and turn. It was then that the dreamscapes began to take shape, transporting  me into another dimension that revealed hurt, need and discouragement.  

My dream was a journey and it was fueled by thoughts of the protests I had been informed about. I would never hold an actual protest sign in my dream, for as I drew near I was pushed near to the object of the protest itself.    Oblivious to the people and objects of each protest, I was somehow cloaked, being able to observe and listen to the conversations from the other side.

I was struck and in awe as I listened into the conversation of a mom and her two children.  The mom was doing the best she could to make light of their situation, as they lived in their car at the edge of the city park.  How, I do not know, but I could hear her thoughts as she wondered how she would mask her homelessness and keep her job at a local restaurant.   She was troubled, for there was no where to leave her two young children while she worked and even more concerned that someone would find out and they would be taken away. 

Wisked away in the dream,  I could visibly see a man behind a desk, and heard the incessant interruptions of the phone ringing. This was the mayor of Uveoffendedmeville and the level of his frustration was obvious to me. The public was not aware of it, but this man had a servants heart.  Even now, hours after the usual 9-5 city hall hours, he was attending to the community he had served for 17 years.   Some were saying that the city needed a new leader and each new day brought new complaints about the way the city was run and how bad things had gotten.  The mayor felt as though he did not have a friend in the world and was taking inventory of the times anyone had shown their appreciation. Even the local factory closing down was something that he was having to weather as the criticisms continued to flow in.

As I awoke my compassions were fixed on remedying the needs in the community of Uveoffendedmeville and not on protesting the problems. My dreams had brought to light the need for community support for the homeless shelter, for the mom and her kids as well as a  coming together of the community and the mayor to resolve city problems, rather than just protesting them.

I think it is wise to make a difference by expressing the love of Christ Jesus into the needs  at hand.  We will have our disputes and our disagreements, it is sure, but to love is to obey God. To love is to show compassion for the needs of others, putting our protests aside and ministering for the common good.

This particular blog is a make believe town, who’s expressions of protest may well show up at any time or place in our daily lives.   Sometimes unfair things can make me very angry and my first thought is to protest, to express my dissatisfaction, to ramble . These feelings have become more and more short lived in recent years as I realize the fragility and the unknown length of my stay on this earth.  So, as the Bible says I try to labor in love, so that my treasure may be laid up in heaven where moth and rust cannot destroy.  

 Onward,   Pastor Steve Hare 

Admiration, respect and honor are not responses that you want to count on drawing your strength from  or depend on, when you are working with at-risk kids.   Yesterday, I walked into a Bridges center to announce that a former pro football player was coming to visit the next day.  You would think the kids would be excited and pay close attention, but that was not the case.   The noise level and chatter rose to a level were they could no longer hear anything I was saying.  If the kids had tomatoes and rotten fruit, I felt like they would probably be throwing them at me.  It felt like I had just told them that summer vacation was cancelled, that there would be no recess, or that we were taking all their youth center games away.  No, I was telling  them some really cool news, a former pro football player was coming to visit.  The whole encounter lasted about 30 seconds and I walked out with my head down, my feelings  hurt and in disbelief at the unexpected response.

There is no one among the staff at Bridges For Youth who has not experienced the hurt feeling dilemna of youth ministry. This is undoubtedly the reason that statistics show that youth workers often experience burnout very early on, and are not able to stay the course for very long. As Christian staff we trust in God to fuel our journey, and we believe that you have to consistently turn to God, so that you can weather the storm.

Being alone in a youth center with even a couple of kids is a recipe for getting your feelings hurt. In 1998 and 1999, I was in just such a situation as the lone staff member at the National Bridges For Youth center.   The number of kids wasn’t overwhelming at the time, as I often had only two of three kids that I would be shepherding. It was a time when God was educating me about at risk kids and I was learning on the job. Save the presence of God I would have perished back then and  my existence and mission would have faded into oblivion. 

The two or three kids in attendance back then would divide and conquer Pastor Steve. While I was attending to one’s needs another would turn all the lights out at the breaker box-that’s why it has a lock on it to this day. They would circle the building, going out the front door and coming through the back.  Frequently they would be annoyed by my attempts to control them and they would leave stating, “They would never come back again!”.   In a short time they would return, smiles on their faces, with another clever childish prank to play on me-that is why kids are not allowed to leave and return the same day anymore.  Basically, my feelings were getting hurt right and left just about eight years ago.   It was  staying on the front lines and coming back day after day that eventually showed the kids that I loved and cared about them.

One particular incident at National stands out, that left me feeling particularly upset. We had a small snack bar at the Bridges center with candy bars and a variety of candy. Two of the kids devised a plan, distracted me and took the snack bar money. I discovered the money was missing but certainly couldn’t prove who took it. The incident left me shaking my head and I felt like someone had just beaten me for no apparent reason. The next two days at the youth center my enthusiasm had waned and my disappointment showed. God renewed me on the third day after the incident, when two boys came to the front door, handed me the money they had stolen and expresed their heartfelt apologies. I still remember the sincere expression on the boys faces, and the remorse for what they had done.

As I verse the memories of my feelings getting hurt there are a flood of memories. Putting yourself in the uncomfortable position of getting your feelings hurt seems to be the inevitable price to have victory in dealing with kids and in building nurturing relationships. God is in control!

“And let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart. Therefore, as we have opportunity let us do good to all, especially to those who are of the household of faith.” Galatians 6:9-10

Pastor Steve  (When I am weak, then I am strong)