Why I’m Not Going Back to that Youth Group
http://www.thejournalofstudentministries.com/articles/68/1/Why-Iam-Not-Going-Back-to-that-Youth-Group/Page1.html
Alec McKee
Alec McKee is a 13-year-old from Orangevale, California. His dad, Jonathan McKee is an author, speaker, youth ministry trainer, and president of The Source for Youth Ministry (thesource4ym.com) By Alec McKee
Published on 01/29/2008
Have you ever noticed how good memories always stick to your mind like glue? It feels like they are the strongest memories you have.
But they aren’t. Bad memories are stronger. That’s why I’ll never forget my experience with that youth group.
But they aren’t. Bad memories are stronger. That’s why I’ll never forget my experience with that youth group.
Bad memories stick like glue
Have you ever noticed how good memories always stick to your mind like glue? It feels like they are the strongest memories you have.
But they aren’t. Bad memories are stronger. That’s why I’ll never forget my experience with that youth group.
My grandfather and I were early, so he thought he would come in with me. I had been to the church before, but I hadn’t been to the youth group yet, so I was uneasy about it. I knew that it would be different, and different can sometimes be scary.
As we entered the building I saw the youth pastor talking. My grandpa brought me up to him and introduced me, telling him that I was new. “Okay, how about you go on into that room over there,” he said hastily as he motioned toward a large room.
I was taken aback a little, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I figured he must be really busy to blow off a newcomer like that.
When I entered the room, I immediately lost my nervousness about being among a new youth group. In fact, I thought it was pretty cool: It had a foosball table, a dartboard, and a HUGE T.V. So I thought, This is going to be great!
My excitement was short-lived, though. The dartboard was broken, the foosball table had no balls, and the T.V. wasn’t used at all. No problem, though; I figured I could still be positive. After all, a church doesn’t need too have a bunch of cool stuff in order to still be fun.
I still can meet some new people, I thought. But again I was disappointed. Out of probably 50 kids, just one friend I knew from school said hi, only to scurry back to his group of friends and forget about me completely. None of the others even said hi once. I began to feel quite alone, feeling like I really didn’t belong there.
Then the youth pastor came up front saying, “All right, guys, lets get started.” Everyone got up and started moving somewhere in the room. I didn’t know where to go, and no one told me. At this point I just felt stupid—I was the only one who didn’t know what to do.
Like a brainless sheep, I copied everyone around me. I was the last one to sit down. Everyone had a place and a purpose here—everyone but me. Again I heard the malevolent voice echo in my head, “You don’t belong here…” Fortunately the youth pastor began his talk, so I became too bored to care.
I wish I could tell you something the youth pastor talked about that day, but I honestly don’t remember a thing. All I remember was that he sat on his stool in front of us for the entire hour and talked…and talked…and talked.
After what seemed like years, I apparently started to fall asleep—until I heard the youth pastor say, “Let us pray.” At last! That meant the youth service was almost over!
At that point I just had to wait in the youth room for my grandpa to take me home. Waiting at the place where he said he’d meet me, I sat like a loyal dog waiting for his master to come home. Yet, still no one talked with me. I wished I’d told my Grandpa that I’d meet him at the car.
In that hour and fifty-two minutes, only one person talked to me.
When I think back to that day, I can’t help but wonder about some what-ifs. What if I had never gone to church before and that was my first impression of church? Would I have wanted to come back? What if I had brought one of my non-Christian friends to church that week? How would I be able to repair the damage of that first impression? What if I’d been a kid without a solid family and another group of supportive Christian friends, and I’d gone there desperate for someone to reach out to me?
What can that group do to stop these “What ifs” from happening? What can your group do? What can you do personally?
I think that youth group could have done one little thing and it would make a world of difference. They could’ve paid attention to the new kid in class. Out of all the emotions that I felt in the youth group, loneliness was by far the strongest. Sure, the speaker was boring. Sure, they could have made it more fun. But if they would’ve just been nice to me that day, I bet I wouldn’t have noticed the other stuff.
When youth groups make an effort to make the new kid feel welcome and accepted, they can change that kid’s opinion of church, Christians, and God. An atmosphere of hospitality can make all of the difference.
But they aren’t. Bad memories are stronger. That’s why I’ll never forget my experience with that youth group.
My grandfather and I were early, so he thought he would come in with me. I had been to the church before, but I hadn’t been to the youth group yet, so I was uneasy about it. I knew that it would be different, and different can sometimes be scary.
As we entered the building I saw the youth pastor talking. My grandpa brought me up to him and introduced me, telling him that I was new. “Okay, how about you go on into that room over there,” he said hastily as he motioned toward a large room.
I was taken aback a little, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I figured he must be really busy to blow off a newcomer like that.
When I entered the room, I immediately lost my nervousness about being among a new youth group. In fact, I thought it was pretty cool: It had a foosball table, a dartboard, and a HUGE T.V. So I thought, This is going to be great!
My excitement was short-lived, though. The dartboard was broken, the foosball table had no balls, and the T.V. wasn’t used at all. No problem, though; I figured I could still be positive. After all, a church doesn’t need too have a bunch of cool stuff in order to still be fun.
I still can meet some new people, I thought. But again I was disappointed. Out of probably 50 kids, just one friend I knew from school said hi, only to scurry back to his group of friends and forget about me completely. None of the others even said hi once. I began to feel quite alone, feeling like I really didn’t belong there.
Then the youth pastor came up front saying, “All right, guys, lets get started.” Everyone got up and started moving somewhere in the room. I didn’t know where to go, and no one told me. At this point I just felt stupid—I was the only one who didn’t know what to do.
Like a brainless sheep, I copied everyone around me. I was the last one to sit down. Everyone had a place and a purpose here—everyone but me. Again I heard the malevolent voice echo in my head, “You don’t belong here…” Fortunately the youth pastor began his talk, so I became too bored to care.
I wish I could tell you something the youth pastor talked about that day, but I honestly don’t remember a thing. All I remember was that he sat on his stool in front of us for the entire hour and talked…and talked…and talked.
After what seemed like years, I apparently started to fall asleep—until I heard the youth pastor say, “Let us pray.” At last! That meant the youth service was almost over!
At that point I just had to wait in the youth room for my grandpa to take me home. Waiting at the place where he said he’d meet me, I sat like a loyal dog waiting for his master to come home. Yet, still no one talked with me. I wished I’d told my Grandpa that I’d meet him at the car.
In that hour and fifty-two minutes, only one person talked to me.
When I think back to that day, I can’t help but wonder about some what-ifs. What if I had never gone to church before and that was my first impression of church? Would I have wanted to come back? What if I had brought one of my non-Christian friends to church that week? How would I be able to repair the damage of that first impression? What if I’d been a kid without a solid family and another group of supportive Christian friends, and I’d gone there desperate for someone to reach out to me?
What can that group do to stop these “What ifs” from happening? What can your group do? What can you do personally?
I think that youth group could have done one little thing and it would make a world of difference. They could’ve paid attention to the new kid in class. Out of all the emotions that I felt in the youth group, loneliness was by far the strongest. Sure, the speaker was boring. Sure, they could have made it more fun. But if they would’ve just been nice to me that day, I bet I wouldn’t have noticed the other stuff.
When youth groups make an effort to make the new kid feel welcome and accepted, they can change that kid’s opinion of church, Christians, and God. An atmosphere of hospitality can make all of the difference.