Youth Ministry And Generation Like

Douglas Rushkoff has produced two terrific PBS Frontline documentaries about youth and media. The Merchants of Cool (2001) and The Persuaders (2004) both analyzed the embedded nature of corporate marketing in media aimed at young people. Now Generation Like probes how the advent of social media has changed the equation.

Essentially, nothing has changed. The media that young people consume is still carefully crafted for purposes of branding. Only now the process of branding has opened up, so that youth consumers of media actually function as marketing foot soldiers for corporations.

Watch the clip below, and ponder this question: what are those of us who minister to young people doing that differs from these corporate marketing strategies? The questions seems absurd, because the difference in the scale of our operations is utterly massive; I don’t know any youth groups with millions of likes on its Facebook page. Yet I wonder if we’re not sharing certain assumptions about the value of youth attention in our efforts to connect with them. Personally, I’m losing. The activities I’m inviting them to participate in, even to like, lag way behind most of their other priorities.

Should that bother me? Does my outreach need to be appeal more to my students’ sensitivity to public perception? Or is the call of youth ministry to soldier on and allow the gap between church-based activities and YouTube driven activity only widen?

 

Either Teens Are Over Facebook Or Facebook Has Taken Them Over

The high school students who drop by my church after school on Wednesday are all guys. They’re down for some games, some unstructured social time, and some running around. We don’t talk a ton.

I force conversation very briefly by using candy. I’ll ask a student an open ended question about an interest or an opinion, and if they answer it they get a Jolly Rancher. Sometimes they ask the next question.

Yesterday’s question was, “What’s one website you look at every day.”

YouTube (to watch Game Grumps).

Netflix (to watch “How I Met Your Mother”).

Google (seriously, just Google?).

Tabs for A Cause (a fundraising platform for social causes)

Twitter (two of my students tweet. I had no idea).

Tumblr (a blogging platform).

You know what nobody mentioned? You know what zero high school students in my group said they use daily?

Facebook.

I’m guessing that’s due to Facebook’s thorough integration into mobile devices. I bet they’re using it every day, just not online.

Or they’re just not into Facebook anymore?

 

Texts from Teens

There’s a group of high school guys who drop by the church every Wednesday afternoon after school. For several weeks in a row now, one of those students texts me mid-day to ask, “What are we doing today?” This is strange, because the range of what we do is quite limited, determined almost entirely by the students, and apparently worthwhile enough to keep them coming back. So I never know how to answer. Today I went with absurdity.

Student: What are we doing today

Me: Two words: dog show.

Student: What

Me: Arf

Student: Like Westminster Dog Show

Me: Look at you with the cultured dog breeding knowledge!

Student: I watch it every year with my mom dude

Me: I’ll never doubt you again

Student: But what do we do in this dog show

Me: What dog show?

Student: What are we doing today

Me: Two words: cat acrobatics.

Student: Okay u need to stop

Two things about this: first, my student has clearly never met a question mark, and this I fear portends the end of western civilization.

Second, this kid is great.

Monday Morning Quarterback: Seven Words or Less

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a recurring post that examines personal and pastoral events of Sunday. 

My colleague experimented in worship today. She praised the Apostle Paul’s concise statement of the gospel–“I resolved to know nothing among you but Christ and him crucified”–and urged worshipers to work out their own summary of the good news using seven words or less.

Several congregants had been invited to share theirs:

“Christ’s love empowers people to do justice.”

“God’s gracious love is for you always.”

“Do no harm, take no shit.”

And mine: “God’s power is made perfect in weakness.”

The rest of the day, then, played out in seven-words-or-less episodes.

The confirmation class about the village of Chambon: “Jesus said, ‘feed the hungry.’ We did.”

The afternoon at home spent prepping food for the week’s meals: “Who knew celery root peeled so easily?”

The drive to youth groups: “Joey if you’re hurtin’ so am I.”

The junior high youth group: “We’ve wasted thirty minutes on Bible study!”

The high school youth group: “If you’re dating you must be kissing.”

[bonus high school youth group: “If you’re kissing you’re not necessarily dating.”]

Dropping student off, hearing about his role in the school choir’s “The Little Mermaid” concert: “Ariels aplenty; I’m the only Prince Eric.”

Driving home: “Oh, oh Joey I’m not angry anymore.”

Writing Monday Morning Quarterback: “How to align Youtube embed on left?”

ECO and the Mainline Tradition (continued)

Kenneth D. Wald and Allison Calhoun-Brown offer a definition of the Mainline Tradition in their book, “Religion And Politics In The United States” :

“Stressing Jesus’ role as prophet of social justice, the Mainline Tradition sanctifies altruism and regards selfishness as the cardinal sin. In this tradition, which extends membership to all and understands religious duty in terms of sharing abundance, the Bible is treated as a book with deep truths that have to be discerned amidst myth and archaic stories. “

So my question to those who identity with the” Mainline”: does this sound like what you’re into?

View on Path

ECO And The Mainline Tradition

In the introduction to Elesha J. Coffman’s The Christian Century And The Rise of The Protestant Mainline the author proposes that “the mainline”–that cluster of protestant denominations that includes Methodist, Presbyterian, Evangelical Lutheran, Episcopalian, Disciples of Christ, and the United Church of Christ–be understood as a tradition in the Alisdair MacIntyre sense of that word.

According to MacIntryre’s signature work After Virtue, a tradition is “an historically extended, socially embodied argument.” Coffman extemporizes on that definition for the mainline:

“the mainline has an extended history–it originated somewhere and developed over time. It was, and is, embodied by individuals whose social locations predisposed them to see some things and miss others. And it is definitely an argument–a normative argument about the mission of the church, the nature of humanity, the ordering of society, and the measuring of life. A study of the mainline as a tradition reveals the ways in which personal and organizational history, social location, and the interplay of ideas created not just a network of linked institutions but also the presumption that they were central and powerful. More practically, the focus on argument also helps explain why the mainline has experiences so much conflict, despite its aspirations of building consensus.

Coffman’s book chronicles how a magazine, The Christian Century, profoundly shaped the mainline tradition for the first half of the 2oth century. The book ends at the dawn of the evangelical movement in America, embodied most completely by Billy Graham, a figure, Coffman explains, whose ideas and methods the Century fought vehemently.

Is it helpful for digesting the flight of congregations from the PC(USA) to ECO to view it as a conflict of traditions? Not a conflict of a tradition; not a conflict within a tradition. But a conflict between two different traditions.

Mainline Christianity and evangelical Christianity are two different traditions within American Christianity. Their histories overlap but feature strikingly divergent heroes. They pay homage to separate institutions, from Princeton to Fuller. Their postures toward American culture are almost irreconcilable.

Forgive these broad strokes, but while the mainline tradition celebrates an institutionally unified expression of the church, a graduate level-educated class of clergy who employ modern scholarship in their preaching, and constant engagement with the world’s political struggles, the evangelical tradition prizes the congregation reaching the lost of the world, led by preaching that is less lecture than revival, and an engagement with the political realm that is heavily conservative.

Which points up two problems churches leaving for ECO hope to solve: leadership recruitment and congregational flexibility (I’ve also written about this here).

Take John Ortberg’s address to the congregation of Menlo Park Presbyterian Church informing it of an upcoming vote to switch denominational affiliation. After laying out that congregation’s ambitious desires to reach out to the Bay Area and launch new church sites over the next five years, Ortberg explained,

“To do that we believe we gotta be in a denominational setting that will help us attract great young Christ-following leaders. We gotta have a governance structure that will allow us to launch and create new sites. We believe it will be really helpful to have clear possession of this campus . . . to not have a shadow hanging over our heads about trust clauses or property ownership or a common understanding of the gospel.”

What Ortberg and fellow evangelicals in the PC(USA) have been fighting these past several years is the evangelical tradition’s battle against the core assumptions of the mainline tradition. Because the mainline tradition doesn’t serve their sense of call to ministry well anymore. And given a conflict between the unity of the institutional church and the flexibility of a congregation to call the leaders it wants to [trained in decidedly non-mainline seminaries]  and to do with its property what it wants to, the evangelical tradition cares less about the former than the latter.

For those of us who identify with the mainline tradition, then, what is the inheritance we most value for the future mission of the church? Is it still the unified institutional church? Is it still standards of education for clergy? Or is it something else, something that has emerged on its own since the era of American mainline hegemony ended?

Monday Morning Quarterback: Cut And Paste

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a recurring post that examines personal and pastoral events of Sunday. 

 It’s among the most useful word processing tools and a life maneuver to save time and effort: cut and paste.

But it doesn’t always work.

Here’s a sports application: it appeared to everyone watching that my beloved Denver Broncos prepared for their Super Bowl matchup with the Seattle Seahawks yesterday in a sort of cut and paste fashion. Simply cut what worked for their season’s 15 previous wins and paste it onto this immense page. If the Seahawks were editors, there’s deep red ink all over the page. What worked there and then can’t necessarily be trusted here and now.

Now here’s church application: yesterday’s communion liturgy was, as it often is, cut and pasted from a previous worship service, so I didn’t look it over before the service.  I didn’t notice that I’d cut it from an Advent worship service. Not until I was reading it aloud to the congregation did the paste get messy, because there were some references to the baby Jesus being born and Mary’s song of hope and defiance. Cut and paste be cursed.

So what do you do? Forswear the tactic? Hardly. It’s too useful too often to be scared off it by a couple of bad applications.

Be more careful. Of course. This is a blog, though, not a user’s manual; “be more careful” is boring nanny talk.

How about this: seize the chance to adjust on the fly and to improvise.

Yesterday’s communion liturgy was unlike any I’ve been part of before because my colleague and I had to replace entire phrases in real time. Our appropriation of communion–what it is and what it’s good for–came through as we were left, in the heat of the moment, to extemporize Eucharist. And you know what? Christ was still present.

It’s a parable for the modern day church. Cutting and pasting practices from an earlier era into this one won’t always work, but that doesn’t mean we face an insurmountable creative task. We still cut and paste, because we’re working with gold. But there’s an invitation here to make it fit in new ways. And where it doesn’t fit there’s an invitation to adapt–not discard–to flex, and to trust that God is working in the jumbled mess that results.

Monday Morning Quarterback: Preparation

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a recurring post that examines personal and pastoral events of Sunday. 

Someone said preparation is not the same thing as planning.

I planned a discussion with confirmation students about the position of Christianity in American culture. I printed copies of the chart from this report, but I wasn’t prepared for a student’s objection to the lumping together of “Jewish,” “Muslim,” “Hindu,” and “Buddhist” under a category called “Other.” I offered a sterile defense of research methodology and missed a moment of righteous indignation.

The Youth Intern proudly announced to the junior high students that he had knocked out a foreboding piece of his wedding planning by securing the venue 21 months in advance. He reported the date. I checked my calender. “Oh, that’s a Sunday.” His face fell. He wasn’t prepared for 7th graders to cackle as him, nor from his enraged fiancee’s condemnation: “You had one job!!”

After a Saturday cooking class and the purchase of a new cookbook, I planned my family’s weekly meals on paper. I took daughter shopping with me after church, then returned home to spend the next two hours chopping produce, making stock to freeze, and cooking rice for use throughout the week. But I wasn’t prepared for Daughter’s indifference as she turned up her nose at what I was making. Cookbook, meet trash can.

We’re planning three high school youth group sessions on romance, dating, and relationships. I enlisted students’ help in planning specific topics. Giggles. Silence. Jokes. I’m no more prepared now than I was before.

Monday Morning Quarterback

Note: Monday Morning Quarterback is a recurring post that examines personal and pastoral events of Sunday. 

 Today’s topic: Veggie Tales.

My church has never had a dedicated high school gathering on Sunday morning before worship. What it does have is a dynamic married couple who, for close to 40 years, have taught a combined junior high and high school class in the hour before worship. It’s honestly one of the best things about my church.

Last year we decided to fully include new 6th graders into all of our youth activities, rather than make them wait until the 7th grade, which is when middle school starts in the public schools. As a result, a small contingent of the high school students in that Sunday morning class began showing signs of frustration with the, shall we say, less advanced maturity of their younger peers. I reached out to these students and asked if they would like to have their own gathering on Sunday morning–high schoolers only. They said yes they would, so I recruited a few teachers and sent them off.

This morning I think that send off officially sank. After a promising start last fall, it struggled in the winter and spring with too little support for the teachers. By the time we regrouped for the current school year, many students didn’t come back, and most of the new high schoolers didn’t want to leave the junior high class with the married couple. The teachers I’d recruited were frustrated, and with good reason.

I tried one last thing: a high school Bible study in my office with the three or four high schoolers who were interested. Today was week three of that. Week one had two students, week two only one, and today, well, none.

Several high school students actually showed up for Sunday school. And when I saw them I simply told them where I would be at the start of the hour, and that they were welcome to come join me but that I wouldn’t coerce them. Well, to a person they chose to join the junior high class. I found out later why: Veggie Tales.

Initially I’m miffed about this. That my high school students can’t resist the allure of animated Bible stories meant for young children makes me think I’ve failed in some bigger way. Either the Bible study I’m proposing is hopelessly boring, or the work I’ve done with these students since they were sixth graders has not increased their Biblical literacy or spiritual maturity one bit.

But I suspect there’s something else going on here, something I don’t want to fight, and so I’m gladly conceding defeat. The married couple are amazing, amazing people, and that any of our students of any age get to sit at their feet is a gift I’ll not block. Further, they like having high schoolers and junior high schoolers together, even when that involves a six year stretch of grade levels. They’re the experts, and I should get out of the way.

I’m adding this whole episode to my career’s growing chronicle of things that were working just fine and had worked fine for years before I arrived but that I somehow thought I could improve and so inserted myself only to threaten or wreck a good thing.

I’m also adding it to the long list of reasons I believe Veggie Tales are from the devil.

De-Programming Youth Ministry

John Vest graciously invited me last week to contribute to a NEXT Church blog series he’s curating about the future of youth ministry in the Presbyterian Church. Here’s a teaser:

Each Wednesday afternoon I’ve got two groups of students who gather at the church I serve: one group of junior high girls and another group of high school boys. I’m a bit baffled as to how this came about, as I certainly didn’t plan for it.

Read the rest of the post here and offer your thoughts.