As a kid I loved watching the circus on TV. And my favorite act was the tightrope walker.

As my three kids become increasingly more interested in the upcoming elections, one of the two times my father ever set foot in my high school recently came to mind. 

Today church leaders have been bewildered about how detached high school graduates are from the local church.

What’s the causing this detachment?

You and me.

I’m convinced we’re a major part of the problem.

#42: The answer to life, the universe, and everything—according to author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, Douglas Adams.

#47: Guaranteed, there’s at least one other Star Trek nerd out there who’s rejoicing with me on this one. I’d explain it to you, but it would take the whole column.

#231: The answer to the question I’m constantly asked.

More than a decade ago, a new church-planting pastor met a struggling graduate student who was looking for a place to live. Today this senior pastor and youth minister are friends, colleagues, coworkers, and, most importantly, companions in ministry.

We were at a student conference getting “trained” on how to witness to people.

I sat and listened with my youth group. There were more than 600 students in the room. The guy up front was walking through a pamphlet I’d read at least a thousand times.

The summer before a young man’s senior year in high school typically includes having fun with friends, watching a little football, spending time at the lake on a hot summer’s day, or catching up with the endless supply of summer movies. But for Colten the summer of 2007 would be one that was far from typical.

Ten months ago my husband died. Our second child had just been born. I’d been banking on “happily ever after.” Now, he is dead and I am not. I’m here on this earth with my “happily ever after” shattered in small, small pieces around me.

Just before lunchtime on April 20, 1999, I was sitting in a room with six youth leaders as another pastor burst into the room and interrupted our meeting with the news that “something bad was going down at Columbine.” He implored us to pray. We did. And then we carried on with our meeting.

Somewhere in Idaho there’s a kid eating an entire bag of Fiery Habanero Doritos. Meanwhile, in Vermont, another kid is eating a one-pound bag of Skittles. The tropical ones. Seriously. It happens all the time.