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Still Crazy after All These Years
- By Dick Tubbs
- Published 01/29/2008
- Theological Themes
- Unrated
Dick Tubbs
Dick Tubbs has enjoyed a varied career as a bank executive, marketer, and charity executive. He has also taught junior high, senior high, and college classes; coached soccer and basketball; and directed youth choirs. He has been serving as director of youth and family ministries at Derita Presbyterian Church in Charlotte, N.C. for 12 years, leading short-term mission trips for 23 years, and teaching Christian education classes for 32 years.
View all articles by Dick TubbsLessons from almost half a century of youth ministry
“He’s how old?”
According to one of my future “stars,” that was his reaction when his dad came home and announced my hiring to my present position. That was twelve years ago, and I was just shy of 50 at the time. Since I was a kid myself when I started working with kids, next summer will mark my 46th year, as volunteer and professional, with younger folks. And I still love it.
Adults in their forties (the age of my earliest “youth-groupers”) may occasionally ask if I need help unloading my cart at Home Depot, but my current flock are amazed if I don’t opt to be first up the rock-climbing cliffs (first hint: “Somebody has to hold the cameras” is a good excuse and it teaches servanthood.)
When I started my involvement with church youth, Kennedy was President, “contemporary” Christian music was written in the 40s, we prayed in school, and everybody wanted to be Methodist because the MYF had the hottest girls. I was only two years from high school when my county closed the last segregated school.
It has been a long road, and obviously much has changed, externally and internally. Staying fresh, staying passionate, staying in my calling has been a huge challenge and a good deal more art than science. By trying, failing and trying again, I’ve evolved a set of personal guidelines. Some of them are still hard for me to follow, but they’ve proven themselves over time—a lot of time.
Role of Missionary
I’m less of an “educator” or a “minister” than I am a “missionary.” God calls me to serve people with a somewhat different language, different culture, and different exposure to the Word than the rest of society. These factors change every three to five years, so my mission field is always fresh. As a missionary my tasks are to engage, to interpret, to learn, to establish a Christian community, and then to move on to the next community.
Happily, I can do all this without leaving the same geographic base. The fact that these people occupy the same geographic space as their elders is irrelevant. The fact that they’ve often already been baptized is irrelevant.
At the point where I come into the field, my people groups are still in a pretty simple state of grace. Some are yet unaware of the call God has placed on their lives; they’re just having fun with friends. A very few have an understanding of a loving God, and the sacrifice Jesus represents, but they’re not sure how to fit that into the material world.
Most fit somewhere between the two states, with a vague sense of God’s love, and a grudging sense of obedience to the don’ts that their elders have selectively chosen to enforce. (I don’t know about your students, but all of mine have only two commandments committed to memory: “Don’t kill” and “Obey your parents”—an interesting twist on the word “honor.”) For most, faith is, at best, the fifth priority—behind school, extracurriculars, friends, and family.
One Tool in the Box
The Spirit has a toolbox. I’m not it. I am one of the tools, by virtue of my call, but only one of them. Part of my call is to insure that, at my mission outpost, lots of tools are called into use.
I may not always be the “best bud” to a kid, which is fine. But someone needs to be, and I need to identify that person and help him or her help my charge. It also enriches me and enriches the kids when I can identify a kid who’s a tool of the Spirit to the other kids, and help him or her to accept and expand the gift of leadership.
Closing the Book
One of my advisors one day decided he was ready for a program of his own, and went off to a smaller, troubled church to lead their group. After a year, he was building great relationships, but having trouble with the teaching. He invited me to lead an overnight retreat on prayer, and kids responded extremely well.
Approaching one of his kids who had been coming up after each of my presentations, he asked, “Now, come on, be honest, what does he have that I don’t?”
She smiled and said, very gently, “In all this time, he never looked at the book.” It has stuck with me ever since, whenever I’m tempted to get preachy and academic, or to haul in a bunch of quotes or to teach from a detailed lesson plan. All I keep, at most, is a single 3x5 card with the main points in order. Everything else comes from study or my heart.
Once I’ve read the Scripture, I close the Book and trust the Author to lead what follows. Now this certainly creates suspense. I may be a total flop. Of course, I may also be a resounding success. When the latter happens I get to sit there and wonder Where did that come from? because I’m always surprised and delighted by the grace of those unplanned examples and digressions. It’s pretty hard to get bored when you get surprises with every talk.
Nothing Wasted
I’m constantly amazed at how things I’ve read, places I’ve been, and things I’ve done will come back years later to help provide examples in my teaching. The secret is to learn the lessons in each experience at the time it’s happening. It has an obvious effect on the kids when you have a personal revelation to share, but it also has a profound effect on your own view of creation.
As I get more experienced at this, the way it helps me to see the presence of God in all things is incredible. I’m often not the hero in these stories. In fact, they often come with a twinge of conscience attached—but the gang remembers them far better than the third-person stories. (Now, if they’d just stop asking me about the trouble Moses and I got into when we were kids.)
Look for “Sub-Heading” Ministries.
My present group has a local reputation for good work with learning-disabled kids. In the past, we’ve been known for work with abused kids, adolescent children of alcoholics, and kids who were the target of bullies. We also are known for our “handicapped night” when everybody gets a turn being handicapped and being the principal caregiver of a handicapped person.
All of these programs came about because I got fascinated, touched, and called to work with kids who live with these problems. In each case, I made it a point to learn as much as possible about their needs, spend time with them and their parents, get blessed by God through them, then bring the lessons to the group.
It doesn’t matter what our titles are—we’re pastors, caregivers. It’s not about the theology courses or the latest rules of family behavior; it’s about caring. Discipling means creating carers, and we can’t do that if we aren’t practicing our lessons, too. Looking for and incorporating these unique needs keeps my ministry fresh; and it opens doors to the kids into areas that build community.
Don’t Sweat “Relationships” – Just be You.
Kids have the awesome gift of forming a network of relationships with people of all ages, depending on which of their many needs have to be filled. The only constants they require are honesty, openness, an ability to listen, an ability to laugh at oneself, respect, and a transparent love for them.
As I age, the gang re-defines how they relate to me, so part of my task is to replace myself in their hierarchy of needs and move on to the next level. Much as I hate the thought, I can’t be a kid forever. (Note to committees in charge of the youth guy or youth gal: An adult playmate for youth is, to a certain extent, creepy. If you want a playmate for your teenagers, be more welcoming to families with teenagers.)
But Remember to be All things, Too.
If your entire group dresses like you do, likes the things you like, and buys into everything you’re saying, you probably have a one-dimensional group that’s driving other kids away. If the whole group goes to the ball games to cheer on group members but doesn’t go to the musical, the concert, or the academic awards to root for those kids, you’re toast.
The Goth has to be as welcome as the Jock, the oboe player as esteemed as the homecoming queen. The ADHD kid has to be friends with the valedictorian. And I have to be a friend to them all. Many of the most rewarding times I have are the ones that involve members of our “team” who would have been cut by any other team.
The effort to keep up with the culture—so that I understand their world as clearly as I hope they’ll understand mine—is what keeps me young and, to them, relevant.
Interpretation Cuts in Two Directions.
Interpreting Scripture to students is only a small part of what I should do. I should also interpret the adult society to them, interpret the role of faith as a living, active verb in their life stories, and then turn around and interpret them to the adults. When, as it inevitably must, that role turns into telling the adult society “You’ve got it wrong!” I get to skate on the edge of unemployment, but it’s a role I must take on. It significantly broadens the scope of my work and enlarges “my congregation.”
A dear friend who’s a pastor to a predominantly African-American congregation gave me a wonderful challenge/affirmation that often carries me through tough times; “You have been given the spiritual gift of prophecy—you can speak truth to Power!” Sometimes I feel like Jonah more than Isaiah, and often like Elijah after Ahab sets a price on his head, but the kids recognize what’s going on, and they appreciate and respond to the effort. In fact, it often validates me as a confidante, rather than a clone of that guy in “Saved.”
Put another way, I can serve the congregation that called me or the congregation to which I’m called. The first choice is the safe one; the second choice is the right one.
In the End, Fun isn’t in the Event, it’s in Being Together.
The event my group requests most often, and praises most enthusiastically, is the “No Fun Lock-In.” It’s a long night of spiritual exercises that I used to cap off a year when I purposely didn’t schedule any social activities. The response was so great that I now schedule it every third year, on Easter Eve. The kids would like it yearly, but the anticipation is better. It’s also one of our biggest “date” and “guest” nights.
The “fun” of the night comes from the feeling of closeness, the sharing of depth. My current group has asked that we don’t do big, fun retreats. According to them, the best time they had at the last one we attended was sitting around talking in the empty dining hall after the last rally. That’s their idea of a great retreat. They love being a family together. How can that not keep you charged up?
God Called You – Be Content.
If you’re leading young people because it’s an easy first call after seminary, the first step to your own Crystal Cathedral, then quit. Now.
If you need “professional standards” as a badge of respect, quit. Now.
If you long for the day you’ll get adult or collegial respect, quit. Now.
If you spend your time looking ahead, plotting your career, envying the other person’s numbers, you’re cheating the kids God puts right in front of your face. When we seek career, respect, fulfillment from others, we have to realize that those things come with a price. We pay for them by surrendering our freedom to define our ministry in response to the needs of our kids, and the leading of the Holy Spirit. That price is too high.
We are called to service in the least-respected, least-understood, least-appreciated, least-paid spot on God’s staff. Live with it. Rejoice in it!
In most of our congregations, our flocks are “the least of these”, no matter how many people say they’re “the future of our church.” Abba never looms larger than in the shadows of the Pharisees, right where we’re called to be.
Far more than our colleagues, we get to know what it really felt like to be Peter, Paul, John, or James. We get to find the consolations of Francis and Ignatius. Can you picture your pastor sitting on the lawn, preaching a Ragamuffin Gospel to an eager congregation? No way!
Working in the shadows, in the basement, gives us the freedom to be truly creative, truly passionate, truly exuberant. I have learned to cherish that freedom. As I age, I really enjoy those little sighs and headshakes from the older folks. I have been called to the most authentic, Spirit-driven ministry possible. Forty-six years later, I still love this job!
According to one of my future “stars,” that was his reaction when his dad came home and announced my hiring to my present position. That was twelve years ago, and I was just shy of 50 at the time. Since I was a kid myself when I started working with kids, next summer will mark my 46th year, as volunteer and professional, with younger folks. And I still love it.
Adults in their forties (the age of my earliest “youth-groupers”) may occasionally ask if I need help unloading my cart at Home Depot, but my current flock are amazed if I don’t opt to be first up the rock-climbing cliffs (first hint: “Somebody has to hold the cameras” is a good excuse and it teaches servanthood.)
When I started my involvement with church youth, Kennedy was President, “contemporary” Christian music was written in the 40s, we prayed in school, and everybody wanted to be Methodist because the MYF had the hottest girls. I was only two years from high school when my county closed the last segregated school.
It has been a long road, and obviously much has changed, externally and internally. Staying fresh, staying passionate, staying in my calling has been a huge challenge and a good deal more art than science. By trying, failing and trying again, I’ve evolved a set of personal guidelines. Some of them are still hard for me to follow, but they’ve proven themselves over time—a lot of time.
Role of Missionary
I’m less of an “educator” or a “minister” than I am a “missionary.” God calls me to serve people with a somewhat different language, different culture, and different exposure to the Word than the rest of society. These factors change every three to five years, so my mission field is always fresh. As a missionary my tasks are to engage, to interpret, to learn, to establish a Christian community, and then to move on to the next community.
Happily, I can do all this without leaving the same geographic base. The fact that these people occupy the same geographic space as their elders is irrelevant. The fact that they’ve often already been baptized is irrelevant.
At the point where I come into the field, my people groups are still in a pretty simple state of grace. Some are yet unaware of the call God has placed on their lives; they’re just having fun with friends. A very few have an understanding of a loving God, and the sacrifice Jesus represents, but they’re not sure how to fit that into the material world.
Most fit somewhere between the two states, with a vague sense of God’s love, and a grudging sense of obedience to the don’ts that their elders have selectively chosen to enforce. (I don’t know about your students, but all of mine have only two commandments committed to memory: “Don’t kill” and “Obey your parents”—an interesting twist on the word “honor.”) For most, faith is, at best, the fifth priority—behind school, extracurriculars, friends, and family.
One Tool in the Box
The Spirit has a toolbox. I’m not it. I am one of the tools, by virtue of my call, but only one of them. Part of my call is to insure that, at my mission outpost, lots of tools are called into use.
I may not always be the “best bud” to a kid, which is fine. But someone needs to be, and I need to identify that person and help him or her help my charge. It also enriches me and enriches the kids when I can identify a kid who’s a tool of the Spirit to the other kids, and help him or her to accept and expand the gift of leadership.
Closing the Book
One of my advisors one day decided he was ready for a program of his own, and went off to a smaller, troubled church to lead their group. After a year, he was building great relationships, but having trouble with the teaching. He invited me to lead an overnight retreat on prayer, and kids responded extremely well.
Approaching one of his kids who had been coming up after each of my presentations, he asked, “Now, come on, be honest, what does he have that I don’t?”
She smiled and said, very gently, “In all this time, he never looked at the book.” It has stuck with me ever since, whenever I’m tempted to get preachy and academic, or to haul in a bunch of quotes or to teach from a detailed lesson plan. All I keep, at most, is a single 3x5 card with the main points in order. Everything else comes from study or my heart.
Once I’ve read the Scripture, I close the Book and trust the Author to lead what follows. Now this certainly creates suspense. I may be a total flop. Of course, I may also be a resounding success. When the latter happens I get to sit there and wonder Where did that come from? because I’m always surprised and delighted by the grace of those unplanned examples and digressions. It’s pretty hard to get bored when you get surprises with every talk.
Nothing Wasted
I’m constantly amazed at how things I’ve read, places I’ve been, and things I’ve done will come back years later to help provide examples in my teaching. The secret is to learn the lessons in each experience at the time it’s happening. It has an obvious effect on the kids when you have a personal revelation to share, but it also has a profound effect on your own view of creation.
As I get more experienced at this, the way it helps me to see the presence of God in all things is incredible. I’m often not the hero in these stories. In fact, they often come with a twinge of conscience attached—but the gang remembers them far better than the third-person stories. (Now, if they’d just stop asking me about the trouble Moses and I got into when we were kids.)
Look for “Sub-Heading” Ministries.
My present group has a local reputation for good work with learning-disabled kids. In the past, we’ve been known for work with abused kids, adolescent children of alcoholics, and kids who were the target of bullies. We also are known for our “handicapped night” when everybody gets a turn being handicapped and being the principal caregiver of a handicapped person.
All of these programs came about because I got fascinated, touched, and called to work with kids who live with these problems. In each case, I made it a point to learn as much as possible about their needs, spend time with them and their parents, get blessed by God through them, then bring the lessons to the group.
It doesn’t matter what our titles are—we’re pastors, caregivers. It’s not about the theology courses or the latest rules of family behavior; it’s about caring. Discipling means creating carers, and we can’t do that if we aren’t practicing our lessons, too. Looking for and incorporating these unique needs keeps my ministry fresh; and it opens doors to the kids into areas that build community.
Don’t Sweat “Relationships” – Just be You.
Kids have the awesome gift of forming a network of relationships with people of all ages, depending on which of their many needs have to be filled. The only constants they require are honesty, openness, an ability to listen, an ability to laugh at oneself, respect, and a transparent love for them.
As I age, the gang re-defines how they relate to me, so part of my task is to replace myself in their hierarchy of needs and move on to the next level. Much as I hate the thought, I can’t be a kid forever. (Note to committees in charge of the youth guy or youth gal: An adult playmate for youth is, to a certain extent, creepy. If you want a playmate for your teenagers, be more welcoming to families with teenagers.)
But Remember to be All things, Too.
If your entire group dresses like you do, likes the things you like, and buys into everything you’re saying, you probably have a one-dimensional group that’s driving other kids away. If the whole group goes to the ball games to cheer on group members but doesn’t go to the musical, the concert, or the academic awards to root for those kids, you’re toast.
The Goth has to be as welcome as the Jock, the oboe player as esteemed as the homecoming queen. The ADHD kid has to be friends with the valedictorian. And I have to be a friend to them all. Many of the most rewarding times I have are the ones that involve members of our “team” who would have been cut by any other team.
The effort to keep up with the culture—so that I understand their world as clearly as I hope they’ll understand mine—is what keeps me young and, to them, relevant.
Interpretation Cuts in Two Directions.
Interpreting Scripture to students is only a small part of what I should do. I should also interpret the adult society to them, interpret the role of faith as a living, active verb in their life stories, and then turn around and interpret them to the adults. When, as it inevitably must, that role turns into telling the adult society “You’ve got it wrong!” I get to skate on the edge of unemployment, but it’s a role I must take on. It significantly broadens the scope of my work and enlarges “my congregation.”
A dear friend who’s a pastor to a predominantly African-American congregation gave me a wonderful challenge/affirmation that often carries me through tough times; “You have been given the spiritual gift of prophecy—you can speak truth to Power!” Sometimes I feel like Jonah more than Isaiah, and often like Elijah after Ahab sets a price on his head, but the kids recognize what’s going on, and they appreciate and respond to the effort. In fact, it often validates me as a confidante, rather than a clone of that guy in “Saved.”
Put another way, I can serve the congregation that called me or the congregation to which I’m called. The first choice is the safe one; the second choice is the right one.
In the End, Fun isn’t in the Event, it’s in Being Together.
The event my group requests most often, and praises most enthusiastically, is the “No Fun Lock-In.” It’s a long night of spiritual exercises that I used to cap off a year when I purposely didn’t schedule any social activities. The response was so great that I now schedule it every third year, on Easter Eve. The kids would like it yearly, but the anticipation is better. It’s also one of our biggest “date” and “guest” nights.
The “fun” of the night comes from the feeling of closeness, the sharing of depth. My current group has asked that we don’t do big, fun retreats. According to them, the best time they had at the last one we attended was sitting around talking in the empty dining hall after the last rally. That’s their idea of a great retreat. They love being a family together. How can that not keep you charged up?
God Called You – Be Content.
If you’re leading young people because it’s an easy first call after seminary, the first step to your own Crystal Cathedral, then quit. Now.
If you need “professional standards” as a badge of respect, quit. Now.
If you long for the day you’ll get adult or collegial respect, quit. Now.
If you spend your time looking ahead, plotting your career, envying the other person’s numbers, you’re cheating the kids God puts right in front of your face. When we seek career, respect, fulfillment from others, we have to realize that those things come with a price. We pay for them by surrendering our freedom to define our ministry in response to the needs of our kids, and the leading of the Holy Spirit. That price is too high.
We are called to service in the least-respected, least-understood, least-appreciated, least-paid spot on God’s staff. Live with it. Rejoice in it!
In most of our congregations, our flocks are “the least of these”, no matter how many people say they’re “the future of our church.” Abba never looms larger than in the shadows of the Pharisees, right where we’re called to be.
Far more than our colleagues, we get to know what it really felt like to be Peter, Paul, John, or James. We get to find the consolations of Francis and Ignatius. Can you picture your pastor sitting on the lawn, preaching a Ragamuffin Gospel to an eager congregation? No way!
Working in the shadows, in the basement, gives us the freedom to be truly creative, truly passionate, truly exuberant. I have learned to cherish that freedom. As I age, I really enjoy those little sighs and headshakes from the older folks. I have been called to the most authentic, Spirit-driven ministry possible. Forty-six years later, I still love this job!
