Resurrection

Ten o’clock on Youth Sunday. You know, that one Sunday each quarter where youth lead the service? The sanctuary was quiet. The seats were mostly empty. My first thought? Recheck my watch and compare to a clock on the wall. Yeah, it was ten o’clock. Service was starting. I thought, “they’ll trickle in, and a lot of people are on vacation.”

No one trickled in and truthfully I could only think of three families on vacation. Attendance was 87 whereas on 'normal' Sunday's 200+ I won’t lie about it: I brooded. And I did so until Clayton, Rachel, and Erin did the special music. For some reason, the hook in that song, “Awake, my soul,” felt more like the Spirit saying, “Garrett, wake up.” I let it go, but I didn’t understand the situation. It's like forgive and forget. Except, like most people I just chose to forget and I called it forgive.

Well, I forgot for about 7 minutes throughout the wonderful children’s sermon. Then, when I stood up to preach, I saw the crowd again, or lack thereof. I relived Matthew 26 as another one of God’s disciples became indignant. That’s why forgetting never works like forgiving because what is forgotten can be remembered, but what is truly forgiven has been explored and understood and absorbed.

We finished service with cardboard confession and a time for personal reflection. The Spirit spoke again. “Garrett, wake up.” I took a minute to speak my frustration, and then I prayed the prayer I hate praying: “Now, Spirit show me the light. Wake me up. I will listen.” Enter humility. “Wake up.”

I opened my eyes, and every head I saw was bowed in prayer or scribbling on their sheet we offered for personal reflection. I saw some just reading the chart we handed out. “Do you see?” So what? They are doing what we asked. All 87 of them. Look how empty it is. No one showed up. Why do we even do this? On top of that why did we ever expend so much energy into this? Mediocrity would have been all the same. “How fickle your heart and how woozy your eyes. Wake up,” continued the still, small voice.

We ended service and I was still struggling. I knew the Spirit was asking me to see something, but I wanted to be more critical. I wanted to blame. I wanted to place guilt and receive apology. I began to think of the specific people who “should have” attended the service for me. Woe is me, right?

A man in my church, let's call him Gene Smith, approached me, shook my hand, and apologized.

           

“Why are you apologizing, Gene?” I asked. 

“More people should have been here,” he shook his head, clenched his teeth, and wouldn’t keep eye contact. This dude was indignant.

“Oh, well yeah…” I wanted to vent to him how I felt, but he interrupted and ranted for me.

“Wake up,” the Spirit plagued me.

During Gene’s rant, he named some people he thought should have been there. He expressed severe feelings with the overall attitude of the church toward youth. He mentioned how unfair it was that we put all that effort into a service to get this kind of support. “None of them think the Spirit can move in our youth program. It’s stupid!” He continued on for 3-4 minutes.

At first, I listened to Gene’s words, then I allowed myself to be present during which I woke up to the truth the Spirit was offering. Resurrection.

            

“Well, Gene, I am not anxious about who was here and who wasn’t here. I did my job, I followed the Spirit’s leading, and I am privileged to be trusted with all this.”

            

Gene grumbled and apologized again.

            

“Don’t be so anxious about it. This service wasn’t about attendance at all. If I or any of the youth or youth workers are troubled by attendance, I think they are going to have to accept a new truth and get over their own folly.” I couldn't believe what I was speaking. 

Gene disagreed and apologized again. Then, he left me with a hug.

I had and heard several more conversations on the same topic that day. People were indignant about the attendance. “People, why are we so anxious?” I wanted to grab a microphone and shout it. Not in a mean way, I thought it was funny. It made me giggle. I had to practice what I preached on that morning and everyone in the room needed to listen to the truth spoken. Largely, I think the whole point was missed because of those people or numbers not in attendance. 

Looking back, the point would have been largely missed even with all those numbers in attendance. Gene, and many others, was worried more about my feelings and my youth staff.  No one was worried about the truth spoken throughout the service, which is shallow when you really think about it. It's even more shallow than the ecclesiology held by a congregation that by and large chooses to skip a service led by the youth ministry. If Gene was mad about that, I wouldn't disagree with him. It's a real issue. He wasn't though. Neither were the others. We were all worried about our feelings being hurt. Simple justice compared to the depth and the roots. 

I followed up with the Spirit later on my couch. Paul’s words in Ephesians 5 were trapped in my mind during my meditation: “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you. Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.” (ESV)

Christ shined these truths on me: the best use of time is not spent complaining, especially about those not in attendance.The will of the Lord was that we, as a youth team, follow the Spirits call into the wild. The wild is unpredictable and dangerous and it can hurt, but we are still called and God is still present. My state of feeling indignant was sinful, unwise, wasteful, foolish, and only selfishly concerned with my own immature feelings. Nothing unfair occurred yesterday. The entire thought of fair and unfair in such a situation is without substance and from the ego. The support I receive from the congregation is not measured on one Sunday morning in July. The affirmation I need does not come from a full crowd at a church in Montrose, Colorado. 

At the end of my prayer time, I heard God ask me, “What more could you want? What could be more fair? Who else do you need to support you? Are you not my child? Why are you so anxious? Wake up!”