I confirmed my first youth on Sunday. Anyone who knows me has, no doubt, figured out by now that I have a soft spot for youngsters. Once they no longer need help to wipe their butts, I love hanging out with them...at least until they start buying sensible shoes and investing in mutual funds. Maybe this makes me Pastor Peter Pan, but I'll take it. I come by it honest, too - my dad was one of the "cool" parents at my junior high and high school who genuinely enjoyed spending time with us teens, and without being overbearing or boring or strict.
And, like my dad, I find a lot of joy in spending time with teenagers. So many "grown-ups" can't stand the noise and the energy and the goofiness; I say those "grown-ups" need to redefine what it means to be an adult and pull the stick out of their butt. In the immortal words of my father, being an adult isn't about being serious - it's about knowing when you need to be serious, and then having fun the rest of the time. I LIKE the joking around. I LIKE the oft-inappropriate humor. I LIKE the somewhat irreverent attitude toward authority...even as an authority figure. And...I LIKE trying to model what it means to take the best of those things, combine them with earnest (but self-aware and honestly vulnerable) faith, and live the sort of life I feel called to in Christ.
So, for the first time in my blossoming vocation in parish ministry, I've journeyed with a group of young people to a faith crossroads and seen them say YES to the promises God made in their baptisms. Sure, I've worked with others on their way to that moment...but this is the first time that I've gotten to be the one walking with them, in and outside of Confirmation class, for the whole journey. It's the first time I've gotten to invite them to renounce the devil and all his empty promises, confess their faith in the triune God, pray that the Spirit guide them, ask the assembly to support them, and then say that, yes, they are now adults in the eyes of the Church. It is one of the deepest honors I have had in my life.
I was thinking, earlier, about a thought I had when I was finishing up my year in Montevideo, about how the people I know and have built relationships with aren't separate from who I am - we belong to each other. That mystical relationship within God that we see in the Trinity, and that we experience in faith, isn't just between God and Godself, or between us and God; it's between us and the people around us. We belong to each other in Christ; we carry each other within ourselves. Josie, Cameron, Chaz, and Ryan are a part of who I am, and vice versa. The other people here, and across this world, who have touched my life are a part of me, and I'm a part of them. We are not separate.
I wonder, of course, what will happen to these four as they keep on walking - as I leave in six weeks to go back to Chicago, as they become high schoolers, and college students, and spouses and parents and grandparents and teachers and coaches and doctors and pastors and farmers and who knows what else. I know what the numbers say - the odds aren't the best that they'll stay active in church, or that they'll even necessarily cling to this faith, or any other. They'll doubt; they'll wonder if God even exists at all. I mean, hell, I did. All of this makes a part of me scared - as a pastor, I wonder if I did a "good" enough job of bearing witness to the Gospel, or what the future might look like if I'd taught this instead of that, or if I'd prayed 10 minutes a day for them instead of 5, or if I'd made one less sarcastic response and one more grace-filled statement about how we see Christ active in our world.
But, at the end of the day, I have to trust that the same Spirit whose coming we celebrated yesterday is still alive and active in the world, and in those kids' hearts - that no matter where they go or what they do, that God will still be present with them. It's not always easy to trust that...but I'm going to try, even as I learn how to let go and watch them start to grow as this little farm town moves closer to being my past instead of my present.
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