Archive for the ‘Youth’ category

Weathered Dreams

November 17, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                          November 16, 2015

                                          

We’re in the midst of a mid-November blizzard. Schools closed, roads closed, people stranded…all those signs that point to the wisdom of staying home. The wind is blowing like there’s no tomorrow. Snow drifts greeted me when I opened the garage door this morning.

Glad I got the lawn mowed yesterday!

This morning I looked out the window in our dining room to our back yard. On our wood fence in the back there is a sign that has been there for a number of years, almost like a picture frame, that says “Dream!”

It reminds us to envision, to imagine, to think the impossible.

But the strong winds and blizzard cold has loosened one of the nails that has been holding the “Dream” in place. Today it swings back and forth on the fence board with uncertainty, as if it has been abandoned. It conveys the mixed message of falling dreams, almost like someone imagining the “not yet” being pulled back down to reality.

Jesus was a dreamer! He preached about the Jubilee year of renewal, release, and redemption; encouraged kids to come to him; envisioned his death and resurrection, talked about healed people and exorcised demons. Of course, he did more than talk! He made what people thought were crazy ideas into realities.

Sometimes we’re guilty of raising up people of faith who have given up on their dreams. The dream sign is swinging back and forth in the winds of church life. The wisdom of how to raise up people of faith is tempered by the pull back into congregational conformity.

“God has given me a vision for helping people in the midst of addiction!”

     “God has placed a dream within my spirit to start a ministry where a team of people offers free vehicle inspections to senior folk.”

     “God has not allowed me a good night’s sleep because of a dream he has given me to mentor kids in reading at the local elementary school.”

     “God has given me a vision to make mittens for kids at the mission we support in British Columbia.”

Dreams come in all sizes and shapes, places and people. I’m convinced a big part of God’s masterpiece gets conveyed through the dreams of his followers. Sometimes they make perfect sense and sometimes, on the surface, they are lacking in common sense. How does the church keep dreams from falling? How do those of us who have been followers of Jesus for a long ways support the new directions of the younger generation?

It takes a bit of faith to see that lemonade comes from lemons. It takes an abundance of hands to be the under-support of a person’s dream that seeks to rise.

When the blizzard passes I’ll go out into out back yard and pound the nail back in place on our “Dream” sign. Or perhaps I’ll take the sign off from where it is and raise it up another six inches!

The Students Who Mentor You

November 16, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                      November 16, 2015

                                   

In recent weeks I’ve come to realize a few things about being the adult. Sometimes the younger ones we’re raising up, teaching, discipling, are teaching and mentoring you…the adult, the teacher, the pastor…perhaps more than you’re impacting them.

About a month ago, when I was in Chicago, I had dinner with a young lady who was in the youth group I directed more than thirty-five years ago. I still refer to Cyndi as a young lady even though she is now in her mid-fifties! When we met for dinner we had not seen each other for about ten years, but it was like we had seen each other the day before. A three hour conversation ensued. It was delightful to talk about the past, the present, and the future; to hear what God has done in her life and the lives of her family, to hear of a special mission project that her ninth grade son has initiated that has taken off.

And in the midst of it I realized that Cyndi, and her friends Laura, Sue, George, Wave, and others had raised me up as a youth minister. They showed grace to me when I was trying to figure out how to communicate scriptural truth to adolescents. They gave me the freedom to laugh at myself for my moments of cluelessness. They stood beside me in times of lacking confidence, and showed me that there are different ways of looking at a relationship with Jesus besides the Baptist mindset, the only view I had ever experienced.

And perhaps most amazing, and deeply moving, was to hear that Cyndi had become a follower of Christ at a Young Life Camp in Colorado I took a van load of students to the summer I was on staff at her church. For some reason I hadn’t been aware of that. And now 37 years later I was blessed to discover the rest of her story.

The students we mentor often becomes the students who mentor us.

Last week another of my former youth groups students, Deb Simpson Aldridge, went home to be with the Lord. She battled cancer, and cancer finally won, but her victory was assured even in the midst of death because of her faith in Christ. Deb was part of the first youth group I directed at First Baptist Church in Marseilles, Illinois. I had just graduated from Judson College in Elgin, Illinois, was going to start seminary that next fall, and was hired by the church to be the summer youth director. I had never had a youth position before…operated out of the experience of cluelessness! Deb and her sister Connie were two high school students in the youth group who accepted me right away. At my less-than-stellar bible study gatherings they would voice their thoughts and help me to keep going. There is nothing quite as disconcerting than to lead a group of students who sit there and look at you like you are speaking a foreign language. Deb would share something, or, in a loving sisterly way, tell Connie that what she just said was ridiculous.

Deb had a dry wit and humor that made our gatherings or road trips in the van experiences of laughter-laced fellowship. Anything I planned or suggested she would support. Think of it! A young guy right our of college with no experience could have been trampled to a ministry death by a youth group that saw him as an outsider to be neglected, but this youth group raised me up to proceed forward for a forty years of ministry. They could have killed me, but inside they mentored me.

Deb’s passing made me realize the effect she had on my life and my ministry.

Cyndi, Deb, Connie, Steve Landon, Shirl Streukens, Jon Daniels, the Epps Twins, Phil Girard, Jon Girard, Amy Anderson, Keri Anderson, John Chora, Brad Johnson, Tiffany Chora,Tony Lamouria…the list of student mentors for my life is long and deep.

A big part of how I see ministry…especially youth ministry…has been chiseled into my person by their hands.

And I am very, very blessed!

Whose Next?: The Responsibility of Supporting The Next Called Ones”

October 30, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                                  October 29, 2015

Our money preaches our priorities. It clearly conveys what we feel is important and what is an add-on. It conveys our dedication to comfortableness and reluctance to commitment.

As I approach retirement from being a pastor…a paid pastor that is…I’ve been doing more and more thinking about money. Carol and I are looking at what we can expect, and not expect, once my position at our church ends.

But I’ve also been thinking about my responsibility to support the next generation of “God’s called.” I’ve been blessed to see several people I’ve known as their pastor or their coach enter into some form of full-time ministry. I believe I have a responsibility to affirm and encourage their calling through words of blessing, prayerful support, and financial backing. It’s the punctuation mark to their blessing, to be affirmed in these ways instead of comments like “Hope it works out for you!”

     That conviction I have was affirmed today as Carol and I met a young man named Tony LaMouria, his charming wife Elisabeth, and their four boys…nine years old down to seven months.

Carol and I have known Tony since he appeared one cold, sleet/rain Sunday morning at our church in Mason, Michigan, riding a bicycle. That ride into our midst began a new chapter in his faith journey that was marked by disappointment, confusion, acceptance, and unconditional love.

There’s so much to “the Tony Story” that I won’t mention, but one thing that I will mention is how one family in the church, the Andersons , took Tony into their home, gradually brought him to the point where he became the new little brother to their two older daughters, and modeled for him a love that is blended with wisdom, firmness, and encouragement. The Andersons felt a deep responsibility to support this high school kid with a charming smile and a confusing past. They were entering the period in their lives called “the empty nest”, and now they believed God had called them to parent another who wasn’t even theirs.

That family that supported him was part of a new foundation in Tony’s life. The other was our church that took him in, came alongside his new family in the “congregational parenting” of him, and applauded him in his accomplishments.

Today as Carol and I talked with him and Elisabeth he told us of their calling to be a part of a mission organization that sends pastors to churches, mostly rural or small towns, who don’t have the financial resources to support a pastor. There are thousands of churches like that around our country. In our conversation Tony shared how important our church in Mason was to him at that time in is life when he was trying to figure out if he had purpose and value. As he said to us today, if he had gone to a large church he would have gotten lost in the crowd, but our church loved him and embraced him. Now, years later, he sees the value in small churches, and is looking to serve in one of them.

That means I have a responsibility to continue the blessing, to come alongside him, to help him to keep the pursuit.

What blessing! What a responsibility! What a privilege!

Lord of the Spartan Impossible

October 19, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                               October 19, 2015

                                        

As the late Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over until it’s over!” According to a Grand Rapids TV station it was over before it was over, as the reporter stood outside Michigan Stadium…the Big House…and reported Michigan as the victors over Michigan State.

But it wasn’t over! Obviously, he had a deadline! All U of M had to do was punt the ball, or at least hold on to the ball, for the final ten seconds and the victory over their in-state rivals would be assured. The TV broadcasters were even talking about the Wolverines getting the upper hand once again in regards to in-state recruiting.

And then the impossible happened!

Now…I’m not one to believe that God is partial to someone when it comes to a game of some kind, but could that thunder be the laughter of heaven?

I have to admit that I had resigned myself to a Spartan loss. My youngest daughter was already texting in whining words! According to the odds, Michigan State had a 0.2% of victory heading into those final 10 seconds.

I wonder what the odds were for the Hebrew people to make it through the Red Sea? I wonder what the chances of Daniel making it out of the Lion’s Den un-chewed were? I wonder what the odds were for Jesus to make it out of the tomb?

It ain’t over until it’s over!

The picture of the Michigan student with his hands on top of his head was a scene of disbelief. Expect it to be in SI this week!

The scene of disbelief in that final play will rival the ending of the Cal-Stanford football game in 1982 where the Cal player ran the final twenty yards or so through part of the Stanford band, who thought the game was over.

This play will be right up there, complete with open mouths and resurrected Spartan hopes.

Wow!

 

Retiring or Being Reconditioned?

October 16, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                          October 16, 2015

                                               

On December 31 I will retire from full-time ministry. Yesterday I was at a retirement seminar put on by our denomination’s pension plan. So many questions…what if’s…and shall be’s!

I’m getting a lot of questions like “Retiring already?” and “What are you going to do?” I also gets comments and insinuations that pastors have a lifetime calling and, therefore, I can’t retire.

I agree with the lifetime calling aspect. I’m simply retiring as the pastor of a church where I have been for the past sixteen plus years. I’m still a pastor, I just won’t get paid!

Wednesday night I met with a young lady…who is suddenly fifty-five, who was in the youth group I led back in the late seventies. We talked for three hours and I was blessed to hear about her continuing spiritual journey. In many ways…in those three hours…I was her youth pastor again. In some ways I have been her pastor/encourager/mentor for about four decades.

Through social media I’m still a pastor in undefined ways for numerous people who have been a part of my life in some way over the past forty years. I offer encouragement to a woman who was a part of the first youth group I led back in Marseilles, Illinois. She is waging a courageous battle against cancer.

This past summer I invited young ladies I had coached in basketball at Liberty High School over a five year span to come over a Sunday night cook-out. The igniting fuse for that event was the death of a couple of months before that of a young lady I had coached, and who was their teammate. Even though I am “Coach Wolfe” to these young ladies I was a little bit their pastor that night…as we grieved…as we laughed…as we celebrated friendships and shared experiences.

I could go on and on, but my point is that retiring as the pastor of a church doesn’t mean that I am retiring from being a pastor. There is a huge difference. It means that I won’t be on a schedule to “to receive a word from the Lord” each week for the next Sunday’s sermon, but it doesn’t mean that I won’t receive a word from the Lord.

It means that I no longer will be pushed to get over to see one of the seniors who is in poor health, but it does mean that I will go see a senior friend who is in poor health because I love him dearly.

It means I won’t feel the urgency to spend time in the Word, but it does mean that I will spend time in the Word because I have a desire to be enriched and spiritual nourished.

It means that I won’t have to write a sermon each week, but I’ll not stop writing. Perhaps…cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye…perhaps I’ll be able to have a greater impact through written words more than spoken words. The power of a “shared word” can have a ripple effect.

So I’m moving out of a role that has certain job description responsibilities and into a similar role that will become clearer as I travel on the road. I’m like my old softball glove that I’ve had since 1979. Carol gave it to me as a birthday present that year…even before we were married! I used that glove again this past summer as a part of our church softball team. It still catches, but has a couple of broken strings and is looking…”weathered!” It still catches, if the softball hits in certain spots, but just needs a little reconditioning to be used in more effective ways.

That’s me! I’m like an ole’ softball glove with a couple of broken strings just in need of some reconditioning!

What Sports Would Jesus Have Had Kids Play?

September 28, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  September 28, 2015

                              

     Yesterday I officiated some 6th Grade Boy’s Basketball games. I don’t referee many youth games that are outside my church gym. I save myself for the high school and junior college seasons.

But our assignor needed help…and I was looking to shake some of the rust off so I put the whistle around my neck, donned “the stripes”, and laced up my shiny black officiating shoes.

It’s amazing how many parents get “demon-possessed” as they watch their sons play hoop. Accountant-types get crazy hair…psychiatrists display mental illnesses…pacifists reconsider their commitment to peace.

It made me consider what Jesus would have done? Better yet, what sports would Jesus have played? Even better, since Jesus is concerned about all children, what sports would he point the little ones towards…and which ones would he guard them against?

I’m tempted to answer that with two lists…the yes list and the no list…but I’m fight the temptation.

First of all, I think Jesus would have promoted team sports since the gospel is relational and his emphasis was on relationships. He emphasized to his disciples that they were to be on the same page…with him and with one another.

I think Jesus would have pointed people to the rowing team…synchronized, demanding, depending on one another. Jesus would have cheered the rowers.

Many sporting events in Jesus’ time were brutal…kind of like present-day ultimate fighting. The present-day of seeing someone get beat to a pulp is just gladiator flighting done in an arena with beer sales and public restrooms.

I would say that curling would be a point that Jesus would point kids to, but in the gospels there is that time he said, “…let him who is without sin throw the first stone.”

Instead I think “disc golf”, otherwise known as “frisbee golf” would be a favorite for him. The emphasis on staying on the narrow path would be emphasized.

Just as Jesus cleared the temple area of merchants and money-changers I think he would clear gyms of parents trying to relive their childhoods through their children who just want to have fun. Perhaps most sporting activities would be outdoors in the sunshine and fresh air instead of fortress gyms where people have to pay for the privilege of watching.

Don’t get me wrong! I think sports has great benefits and great teaching applications for life. That’s why I coach basketball! Kids can learn how to work together, how to play together, what is important and what is not nearly as important as some people say it is.

I think Jesus would encourage sports participation, but not selling out a child’s youth years to it.

The Pastor’s Nursery

September 20, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  September 19, 2015

                                           

When I walk into my office at the church I pastor I need to step around the rocking chair, and then side step the rocking horse. It’s an obstacle course to get to my desk. Avoid the squeaky rabbit and the weathered doll baby. Toddler toys are huddled together in a corner whispering about life…right behind the changing table.

Not a typical situation, but one that I’m adjusting to. Our roof leak over part of the usual nursery childcare area has caused multiple examples of improvising. For a couple of weeks the babies and toddlers are surrounded by Bonhoeffer, C.S. Lewis, and Tozer. Perhaps the theology and examples of sacrifice will sink in!

Our nursery workers are scheming. I’ve heard them talking about switching my desk chair with the low-riding rocking horse. Nursery pranksters!

Adjusting. An essential part of being a community of faith is “adjusting.” Demanding preferences that are not rooted in God creates division and tension. Adjusting to the flow of the community enhances mission and ministry.

There are numerous opportunities for the fellowship of followers to practice a new spiritual discipline that I’ll call “yielding.” In the past it has been referred to in different ways…serving, fellowship, even worship. But kind of like the World History textbook we used to have in high school where you never quite got to the end of the book before summer vacation, “yielding” is that spiritual practice we never quite get to because of all the other things that we’re focusing on.

How do you yield? Put a rocking horse in your normal daily pathway and you’ll either kick it or take a side-step. We all need a few “rocking horses” in our lives, but especially in the tugging and pulling of a congregation.

Tomorrow morning when I open my office door and “Trigger” is hunched there ready to gallop it will make me think, and remember once again, that it’s not all about me!

When the roof leak situation has been remedied and the changing table goes back to the nursery down the hallway I may keep the horse for a while. It helps me keep perspective!

Being The Adult..Grandparent!

September 14, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                        September 14, 2015

                                        “Being The Adult…Grandparent!

Today is National Grandparent’s Day. I’m looking for discounts in different restaurants, but I’m not finding any. Obviously, grandparenting is seen as being a cake walk! Those in charge of making those determinations haven’t met my grandkids. The two older ones ask me questions that I can’t answer…and now run faster than I can! The youngest grandchild is still intellectually understandable.

She’s five months old!

Last Thursday, Reagan, my four year old granddaughter, had me come to “Grandparent’s Day” at her Pre-K class designed for four year olds. She showed me the ropes.

“Follow me, Granddad!” 

Like a lamb being led to slaughter…

She showed me her play areas, her creative stations, where she sits for large group time, and where she hangs her backpack. Whenever I would ask a dumb question she would roll her eyes at me…kind of like her mom used to do about two decades ago when she was a teenager.

Reagan is a four year old teenager!

She handed me her latest art creation, little pieces of paper fitted together into a heart shape with the words at the bottom “I Love You To Pieces!”

It’s now taped to the wall behind my desk at the office. There’s more than one place like the refrigerator to hang artwork from grandchildren!

Reagan escorted me to the outdoor play area and talked to me through a long tube…the modern version of two tin cans and string!

The teachers assembled the grandparents together and read a book to us as our grandkids stood guard. The book was insightful…How To Babysit Your Grandma. Reagan had committed it to memory. I’m looking forward to seeing her put the principles into practice next time she has Grammy flat on her back.

At the end of Grandparents morning, which, by the way, was only thirty minutes long, Reagan took me out to lunch. She offered to pay, but I told her to put her two little silver coins away and I’d take care of it.

It was a good time, a good connecting, and, in my granddaughter’s opinion, I behaved okay!

The Elevation of Cheap Shots

September 7, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                   September 7, 2015

                                        

This past weekend a high school football official was blind-sided by one player and then speared by another during a game in Texas. Video footage of the incident quickly hit social media. A few moments before that two other players on the same team had been ejected. An investigation has been started.

Accusations began flying about what the official had done to precipitate such an attack, as if it made the actions justified. From the video it is apparent that the backsode collision was not an “oops” moment. In fact, it looks like the two players planned the attack and carried it out to perfection.

A few years ago at a high school basketball game in our area a parent bit one of the officials as he was leaving the court. Recently a soccer official of a men’s recreation league game…let me say that again…a men’s recreation league game, was killed as a result of being attacked a over-the-hill soccer player.

Having refereed high school basketball for thirteen years I know that the people in stripes don’t do it for the money. In our area a varsity game official gets $52. That $52 has been preceded by meetings, referee camps, clinics, rules meetings, and area meetings. Put all that together and it comes to a little less than minimum wage.

Some people argue that where there is competition there inevitably will be high emotions and intense reactions. Once again we rack up the list of excuses for people to act like lunatics.

I play hoop still, at sixty-one…and a half…at the local YMCA at 6:00 in the morning. Almost all of us have to go to work afterwards, but there have been a few guys who think it is the difference between life and death.

There’s been a few guys who have been ushered out of the gym. Our sarcastic sides tell those who have lost their grip on reality that there is are calls for them in the lobby from the Nuggets front office.

But then there are those who play for the fun of it, for the recreation, and laughter. Most of us know that we are has-beens or never-was’s…and we are okay with that. We go home to families who live us despite our lack of having a left hand and being a step slow on defense.

People need to be more like Mayberry, pretend that Floyd has a basketball court behind his barber shop or football field across the street.

When two high school players plan a team attack against a man with a whistle looking the other way it’s time to step back and ask ourselves what is going on?

The Closeness of Loss

September 6, 2015

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                                  September 6, 2015

                                            

There are certain events in life that leave us gasping for breath. Not “take your breath away”, but rather struggling to take the next breath.

In recent weeks I’ve had several people that I’ve known for years experience loss or sorrow that is so overwhelming that it is beyond words, and numbing to emotions.

When loss comes close to us we walk the valley of the shadow of death that seems to have no end. There is darkness ahead and memories behind.

Three of my former classmates at Judson College experienced this yesterday. One of them was my first roommate at the college; his first wife a good friend of mine; and her second husband my cross-country teammate and guy that I would “hang out with.” Their daughter and step-daughter was killed in a head-on car collision this weekend. What can you say to someone that experiences the tentacles of loss wrapped so tightly around their lives that their souls gasp in agony? There is nothing you can say to tell them it will be okay…because it won’t be okay!

When loss comes close it is a pain that keeps stabbing. Each Christmas it pricks the memories of the mind, the remembering of days gone by, the tragedy of a future forfeited.

Followers of Jesus are the worst at walking with someone who is grieving…and also the best. We sometimes convey trite spiritually-sounding words like “She’s in a better place!” and “All things work for good!” But we also are prone to “be with’ the grieving…just to be…to mourn with the mourners and walk silently with those who are hearing the loud aches of loss.

When loss comes close we come to know in a very intimate personal way the reality of David’s words “I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. When i was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands and my soul refused to be comforted. I remembered you, O God, and I groaned; i mused, and my spirit grew faint.” (Psalm 77:1-3, NIV)

Interestingly enough, yesterday we had a call from Colorado Springs Police Department. My wife carol could not get to the phone before the call ended, and the CSPD did not leave a message. She immediately called me and I called the police department to see what the call was about. As soon as Carol ended her call to me she went to her knees in prayer. Her thoughts were about one of our children and grandchildren. Had something happened? As I called the police department my hands were shaking. When I finally got someone on the line she told me it was concerning an elderly person who had gone missing from an eldercare place close to us.

But our thoughts were of the closeness of loss!

My friends are experiencing the closeness of loss that will change their lives forever…and I weep with them!