Moving Forward. Experience and Opportunity. Old and New.

Tonight/last night/Wednesday night/Whenever it was, I sat in our youth room for the last time as a real intern.  I’m a pretty sappy person, and so this moment was extremely bittersweet for me.  This whole week I’ve acknowledged all my “lasts” at this internship that almost defined my life for the past two years.  Not only was I ending my time at this student ministry tonight, but I was beginning the first time in six years of not having a job to define who I was.  This whole week I’ve let this idea get the best of me.  If I have no job description, what then is my purpose?  If I have no goals to work toward, what then do I have to look forward to?  If I have no work-related-successes, where am I now to find my worth?

 

These questions have been nagging at me since the moment that I heard my boss say that November 20^th would be my last day.

Honestly, I’ve been down all week about leaving this job.  Every aspect of my life seems to be up in the air right now.  I’m graduating in just over 6 months and I have no clue where I’ll be in September.  I’ve spent two years building relationships with 6^th-12^th grade students – something that no sane college student would do.  Imagining that I will no longer get to share life experiences with these students has been the hardest part of moving on to my next stage of life. One of my coworkers, who also will be leaving at the end of the semester, recently spoke to the students about her new place in life.  She said, “The good news is that I’m not dying.”  It’s true for both of us.  We’re still in Birmingham.  We still has several forms of communication.  We aren’t dead and just because we aren’t being paid to foster these relationships doesn’t mean we’re going to drop of the face of the earth.  Now, dare I say it, I can actually call these students “friends” without having to second guess how that reflects my ability to "remain professional."

I think that’s what is so great about ministry.  No matter where I’m “ministering” or working or sitting and waiting to figure things out – I can still share what I’m learning with the different groups of people I’ve met through these other experiences.  When I get good news or need support, I still call my high school youth group friends and youth minister.  When I learn something that I think will benefit someone I’ve met in the past, whether we regularly talk or not, I shoot them an e-mail or invite them to coffee so that we can share and grow in this experience together.  Whether I’ve met some college student on campus, some high school student through an internship, or some grandparent that happened to hold up the grocery line – there’s always an opportunity to learn and grow from each others’ experiences.

No experience is meant to be a lonely one. 
Every opportunity is one for the body.

As I sat in this youth room and listened to another intern bid farewell in his own creative way (a reverse roast of all the students and staff...we're an interesting group), my phone buzzed.  I got an e-mail from an organization called Bike and Build.  I’ve wanted to bike across the country since high school, and I’ve always wanted to find a way for this activity to become an opportunity to also serve my neighbors. 

            Laura Lynn,
             Congratulations, you’ve been assigned to the South Carolina to Santa Cruz  

             route for 2014!  We are so excited to have you in the program, and can’t wait   

             to help you to get ready for one of the best summers of your life!

Purpose. Worth. A new goal.  A reason to move forward.

And so I’m here to tell you about my next exciting experience.  One that I think is necessary to make an attempt at my earlier challenge to myself to slow down and to remember to just love on strangers and friends alike.  One that I know I’ll be able to share lessons and stories from to benefit not only myself, but each of my neighbors.

This spring, I’ll be preparing for an experience I’ve been subconsciously looking forward to since 2009 by biking 500 miles, raising $4500, and working with affordable housing agencies.  Then…

This summer, I’ll be biking across the country with a team of around 24 strangers I have never met.  I’ll be raising awareness and funds for Affordable Housing, an issue that I’m excited to learn about and to share. 

No experience is meant to be a lonely one. 
Every opportunity is one for the body. 
And I can’t wait to share this experience with my friends and neighbors, old and new.


 *Clarification - I realized looking back at this post that it sounds kind of like I got fired or didn't choose to leave.  I gave notice to my boss a little over a month ago that I needed to add some different experiences to my life before graduating college.  The only way to do this was to free up some time by removing myself from this extremely involved job.  I love the students that I worked with, and as great as it would be to work with them forever, I have to take care of myself for a bit and check out the other things the world has to offer.

Speeding Kills

We’re going to skip the awkward “sorry I haven’t written in a while” paragraph and jump right in – maybe you’ll understand why at about paragraph 5.

This past weekend I finally took the time to drive home to Nashville and rest.  After an early morning crew practice and doctor’s appointment, I was so ready to be home that I got straight on the interstate, turned up some music, and sped home in the far left lane.  I couldn’t have been going more the 7 over the posted speed limit. 

About an hour into the drive I noticed a car that had just broken down.  Smoke was coming out from the hood and flashers were on.  Immediately, I started looking to see if the car owner was nearby.  I’ve broken down on the side of the interstate enough times that I don’t feel too awkward offering help to fellow crappy car owners (also, because I’m a twenty-one year old girl with a teddy bear seat-belt buckled in to my passenger seat, I couldn’t look too intimidating).  This particular car owner, a woman who must have been about 10 years older than me, had just started walking toward the next exit, which was three miles up, when I saw her.  I wanted to pull over and help.  I started to slow down and put my blinker on but it was all useless.  I was three lanes over, driving just under 80 mph.  There was no way I was going to get to the right shoulder in time to be of any help.

I kept driving.

For the next 10 miles I debated getting off at the next exit and turning around to find her and try to help again.  I passed the first exit, and kicked myself for being so selfish.  There was no rush to get home – all I was doing was resting.  Eventually I had been so indecisive and missed enough exits that the car owner had to have made it to a gas station and called for help by then.  So again, I kept driving.

I realized in the next two hours of driving that speeding, in fact, is the thing that keeps me furthest away from being the best Christian I could be.  Getting from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible has kept me from loving and serving strangers and friends like I used to.  Not just on the road, but in life.

This year, I’m a senior in the business school, with a minor in both the music and religion department, with an extra online course at a seminary in Richmond, working about 12 hours a week at a church, and spending about 12 hours a week working out with my rowing team and on my own.  I go from 5am practices to class, work, the library, coffee shops, and (on a good day) to bed.  I started to focus on my resume, because organizations are starting to look at hiring me when I graduate, and stopped focusing on my personal life, and stopped focusing on finding ways to serve those that I love. 

I’m merely getting by.

And I’m not the only person who feels this way.  The few conversations that I get to have with friends are filled with “I slept 2 hours last night” and “I’m too busy with my 2 internships and part time job to study” and “I’d love to get lunch, but we’ll have to schedule three weeks in advance.”  College students everywhere (or maybe just everywhere in liberal arts schools) are struggling to build fruitful relationships because they’re stuck three lanes over, blinker on, going 80 miles an hour.

This isn’t the life that we’re called to.  We’re called to be Sunday drivers, holding up traffic, and pulling over to catch up with passers by.  We’re called to not only be friends to strangers, but also remember to be friends to our friends.  Because right now I can list off a hundred classmates and acquaintances, but I only spend real relational time with about 2 people a month. 

We can’t do this unless we slow down.  And we have to slow down.

So my challenge to myself (and to my classmates, acquaintances, and friends) is to slow down.  Don’t wait until we’ve run out of gas to putter to a halt on the side of the road.  Don’t stress about our calendars when we put relationships, sleep, and health first.

This is our exit.

a series of life lessons from rowing - part 2

            Not long ago, I wrote about rowing, how it taught me a lot about trust, and how it has taught me a lot of life lessons that aren’t normally advertised as “join your local crew team – where you learn to row and tackle life’s most pressing issues.” 

Rowing is a sport filled with lessons and growth.  Discipline. Dedication.  Teamwork. Leadership. How to keep a boat on top of the lake instead of at the bottom.  Just when I started thinking that I was done with learning lessons from this team, a few smacked me in the face – the second is below, and I’ll try to keep ‘em comin’.

Second – teams, nations, and diversity of thought

If I’ve learned anything about the weather here in Birmingham, it’s that the name of the seasons has no power over the acts of nature.  This means that morning practices in March can get down below freezing.  The sun hasn’t always woken up before us, making it nearly impossible to keep warm while out on the water…and beyond impossible to keep warm if you’re forced into the water.

A few weeks ago we had two different boats out on the water one especially cold morning.  While I was waiting out on the water for the other boat to dock, something strange happened – the cox of the other boat called us over, asked us to dock on the other side so that we could help them.  We had no clue what had happened until we pulled up next to an ice-covered dock.  The other boat had flipped, the four girls in that boat had fallen in the lake in the less-than-ideal temperature, and the other boat – the only boat our team actually has ownership over – was filled with water and too heavy for the four girls to lift. 

Naturally, after putting away the unharmed boat, we decided that all eight rowers should be able to lift the water-filled-boat with no problems.  The other cox guided the boat while I made the usual calls in an attempt the turn the boat enough to drain the lake water.  What seemed like a seamless plan turned out to be fruitless efforts when the dock started sinking under the weight of all eight rowers and a boat filled with lake water.  With eight o’clock classes and tests quickly approaching, we only had one option left and that was for everyone to get in the freezing cold lake and to lift the boat while standing in water.  This may not have been the most popular idea, but it’s the only one that could work with our time and resources. 

When all eight of the rowers – both the boys’ and the girls’ boat – finally had the boat lifted out of the water, there was a moment of beauty despite the freezing cold water pouring out onto them.

 The way our team’s scheduling works out, most team members only spend ample time with their boat.  Our crazy schedules aren’t the only thing that divides our team.  As my roommate affectionately said last semester, “The crew team is really just a bunch of really weird people who have nothing really in common and just kind of found each other.”  I think that this statement is what made the victorious, terrible experience of lifting and draining the boat on that freezing morning so beautiful. 

We don’t necessarily know the entire team very well, nor do we share interests with each and every teammate or have similar values or shared belief systems.  We’re all very different people with very different interests, goals, and values – and when we accomplish things as a team it isn’t because we all put aside our own thoughts to accommodate another teammate, it’s because somewhere in our random collection of interests, goals, and values we have a loyalty to and passion for the well-being and success of our team. 

As I’ve found myself as a bystander in many conversations about the right or privilege or whatever you want to call same-sex marriage, I’ve found that this country could learn from the functionality of my small Christian school’s crew team – in every issue, not just the hot topic of marriage equality.  America, from its earliest stages, has been a melting pot – a collection of all sorts of people.  These people are not soft spoken, and they are all always right.  Laws stomp on beliefs, beliefs define religions, and religious organizations charge at the capital whenever they feel slighted. 

But what if we took a moment to look at this team that we are a part of as a country.  We can accomplish more, and provide a more loving community were we not so dependent on lawmakers guiding our actions.  It isn’t our place to outlaw beliefs that contradict our own, but instead to partake only in actions within our own control that support the mission we feel called to.  Laws don’t necessarily change people, but love can make a world of difference. 

That’s what makes the opening and closing ceremonies of the Olympics so beautiful.  So many different people, beliefs, and interests are all in one place peacefully.  They aren’t worried about the laws of the nations surrounding them supporting actions out of line with their beliefs. They’re all just there to compete in a beautiful world-wide, all-inclusive event.  If they didn’t include countries with certain beliefs, then eventually all competition would be lost.

And that’s what made this moment with these eight very different rowers lifting and draining this boat so beautiful.  In the most important moments, it doesn’t matter what the person next to me in a boat believes – all that matters is that we’re working together for the success of the team as a whole.

a series of life lessons from rowing - part 1

            When I graduated high school, I whole-heartedly believed that I would never have to wake up before the sunrise again.  The flaw with this belief is that it was formed before I had learned about rowing, before I had joined my university’s crew team, and before I had experienced the joy and dread of watching the sun come out over the lake at 5:30 am practices. 

A little over a year ago I began rowing and coxing for my school’s rowing team, and over the past month I have to admit that the thought of quitting has crossed my mind several times.   Scheduling conflicts, early morning practices, and a drop in motivation have all contributed to this thought that maybe I couldn’t keep up with the demands of my love for this sport, but quitting is not something that comes naturally to me.  I weigh pros and cons until they’re worn out.  I ask my friends’ opinions until they won’t talk to me anymore.  I push myself until I break rather than succumb to pride and step down.  This aversion to quitting has lead me to follow one rule when deciding when it is and is not necessary to remove myself from certain situations – “Am I continually learning anything from this experience, and is this challenging my faith in new and good ways.”

Rowing is a sport filled with lessons and growth.  Discipline. Dedication.  Teamwork. Leadership. How to keep a boat on top of the lake instead of at the bottom.  Just when I started thinking that I was done with learning lessons from this team, a few smacked me in the face in one week – the first is below, the rest are to come later.

First – Trust. 

Photo by: Natalie Wilkinson

Rowers can’t see where they’re going.  When the row, they look to what they have already passed and have their backs facing the path ahead.  This is where I come in.  The coxswain steers the boat, both physically and mentally.  Not only is my job to tug on a little string that turns the rudder and manipulate rowers’ pressure to turn the boat, but also to encourage, motivate, and critique the rowers in my boat.  While rowers can only see the back their teammates head, coxswains see everything, forcing the rowers to trust this dead weight in the boat that keeps yelling at them. 

This past week, there was one day where our boat was scheduled to practice and the rain would not relent.  Rain makes rowing uncomfortable but not dangerous.  Other things that make rowing uncomfortable: oars, blisters, oddly shaped seats, long workout pieces, a poor set – basically everything about rowing is uncomfortable.  Throughout the day I received texts from each of my rowers asking if practice was cancelled, telling me that they thought practice was cancelled, and voicing their concerns as if I had no clue that they wouldn’t enjoy rowing in the rain.

I found myself immediately frustrated that the boat found it necessary to question the decision not to cancel practice.  After responding to each of their weather concerns, I kept getting more questions about if it would be light enough outside at the end of the day.  My roommate, a cox for one of the girls’ boats, told me that afternoon that none of her rowers ever questioned her this frequently.  My frustration grew as I wondered why my teammates couldn’t place their trust in me for this one practice.  It was disheartening that they had no confidence in my decision-making skills.  It was disheartening until I thought further.

It is in our nature to question things.  We hardly place our complete and unwavering faith and trust in anyone.  If it was frustrating to me,  a person completely capable of mistakes, that four rowers wouldn’t trust me, then how frustrating must it be when all of humanity questions our infallible creator and reserve our trust for other occasions. 

I have plans for my life.  I wrote out my schedule for next semester.  I know when I need to study for the rest of my tests this semester.  I have a pretty solid idea of what I want to do when I graduate.  And it baffles me to realize that all of these things that I have planned mean nothing until I trust God with the plans he has.  I used to make fun of my friends that based all of their decisions on “their calling” or answered that they were still “waiting for the Lord to reveal His plan” but I’m finding myself understanding them more lately.  I’m not saying that I can’t keep a calendar organized, or have a to-do list, but I have to approach them differently.  Rather than asking him time and time again if I should be changing my major, applying for certain jobs, or moving to a different city – I should be trusting and waiting for that text that cancels practice…or whatever way God communicates whatever plans he has.  Not sitting idly waiting for some giant sign, but confidently acting on decisions founded on trust.

And we, as leaders, have plans.  Without planning meetings, event calendars, and general organization – ministry would be chaos.  We don’t quit putting forth any effort or care and simply call it trust, but we build our plans on a foundation of trust and faith.

More to come later on rowing and how it's super spiritual and all that junk.

"Does it feel like you're getting a new daddy?" - On the Pope's Leadership and Resignation

This past weekend I was a part of a youth retreat where the theme was “The Walk.”  Student leaders broke down Micah 6:8 and examined the verse in many parts, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”  Requirement. Doing justice.  Loving mercy.  Walking humbly.

Monday morning when I finally woke up from my post-retreat coma, I was reminded of this verse as I read the string of tweets informing me that Pope Benedict XVI would be resigning at the end of the month.  As a Catholic going to a Baptist school, working in a Methodist youth group, leading in a Christian Mission Alliance congregation, and living in a state with only 6.6% Catholic population (give me a second to breathe here) – I’ve been asked several questions about this event varying from the practical “How will the Church choose a new Pope” to the personal “Do you suspect any kind of foul play or scandal” and “Does it feel kind of like you’re getting a new daddy?” 

No, we aren’t freaking out.  We have generations upon generations of tradition, history, and teachings that have prepared us for moments like this.  The practical questions are quick and easy to answer – the Internet is full of facts and information – so here, you’ll find answers to the less practical, more personal thoughts on this subject.

The word “pope” translates directly to the English word “father” and the Pope is often referred to as Papa for just that reason.  Yes, it feels like I’m getting a new daddy, but not in a bitter sense.  Our Papa made this decision in the best interests of his family.  Remember when Mario Lemieux retired?  He said that if he could be on the ice, he would, and it pains him not to be there but his health, and his family, as well as the good of all those involved in the NHL were the most important factors in his decision.  He stepped down knowing his limitations for the good of his health, family, and greater community – and so has our Pope. 

In his decision to step down, Pope Benedict is displaying a great act of walking humbly with God.  I stated earlier that Micah 6:8 was my first thought upon hearing of Benedict’s resignation.  Throughout his statement of resignation, Benedict addresses every aspect of this verse.

 “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good…”: Benedict states that he examined his conscience.  He’s the Pope.  Of course He isn’t going to make this decision without chattin’ it up with God.  He recognized his mortal nature and the restraints that are placed upon his worldly body, and he and he came to a conclusion with God’s guidance.

“And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice…”: Benedict outlines the requirements of his role as Pope, and how he cannot do justice to this role – The Pope is a pretty active guy, his job is pretty physically challenging, and he can’t keep up his health to properly and justly support the church.  Done. Moving on.

“To love mercy…”:  I’ve never thought about the Pope as someone who asks for forgiveness, who needs mercy, who needs anything.  However, in his last paragraph he asks pardon for his defects.  A man with a title deemed infallible asks for pardon, asks for mercy. 

“and to walk humbly with your God?”: This one ties it all together - St. Faustina once said “A humble soul does not trust itself, but places all its confidence in God.”  How humble must the earthly father of the Church be to step down from this position?  While his physical weakness has caused Benedict to resign, it also displayed a great example of humility that we should all aspire to imitate.  To not only know your limitations, but to trust that God is in control.  The Pope isn’t the supreme ruler of the church, and Benedict is sure to bring this to our attention as he calls us to trust God, to trust that our mother Mary will intercede to the Cardinals, and, most importantly, just to trust. 

            This is not a huge moment of change or weakness or sadness in the Church.  This is really a time to take notes on leadership.  Odds are that if you’re reading this, you aren’t the Pope and your job or role in leadership is not as demanding as that of the Pope’s.  We, as leaders, should attempt to imitate this courage of Benedict and to apply Micah 6:8 to our ministry.  Do justice – do what you’re called to do for others, and do it with excellence.  To love mercy – know your faults, ask for pardon, and pardon others just as well.  And to walk humbly with your God – trust God in all aspects of your leadership, and take courage to follow through in actions of trust.

“After having repeatedly examined my conscience before God, I have come to the certainty that my strengths, due to an advanced age, are no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the Petrine ministry. I am well aware that this ministry, due to its essential spiritual nature, must be carried out not only with words and deeds, but no less with prayer and suffering.

However, in today's world, subject to so many rapid changes and shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of faith, in order to govern the bark of Saint Peter and proclaim the Gospel, both strength of mind and body are necessary, strength which in the last few months, has deteriorated in me to the extent that I have had to recognize my incapacity to adequately fulfill the ministry entrusted to me. 

Dear Brothers, I thank you most sincerely for all the love and work with which you have supported me in my ministry and I ask pardon for all my defects. And now, let us entrust the Holy Church to the care of Our Supreme Pastor, Our Lord Jesus Christ, and implore his holy Mother Mary, so that she may assist the Cardinal Fathers with her maternal solicitude, in electing a new Supreme Pontiff. With regard to myself, I wish to also devotedly serve the Holy Church of God in the future through a life dedicated to prayer.”  

- Pope Benedict XVI on his resignation.

Step Sing, Worship, and How You Really Just Had to Be There

If you’re in Birmingham this month, you might be wondering why all Samford students look like they haven’t slept in days, have hoarse voices, and seemingly forgot the meaning of the word hygiene.  The answer is simple – a university-wide singing and dancing competition has taken over their lives and become their sole passion for these three weeks. 

Photo by: Sarah Waller

This is my second year participating in step sing, and it’s also my second year trying to explain logically to outsiders how over 1,000 students look forward to these three weeks of singing and dancing more than they anticipate their Birthdays, or Christmas, or possibly even spring break.  When I attempted to explain step sing to the high school students I work with, or to my middle aged boss in a town thirty minutes from Samford, I found that step sing is one of those “You really just had to be there” moments.  We give up on explaining ourselves because we don’t think it’s possible for others to understand this level of passion for something like step sing.  And then I realized that this isn’t the only time that we allow this to happen.

Every Sunday morning of my college career, I see the 10am mass-exodus of Samford students as they leave to attend their respective churches.  After the service, they return to the caf where all that they can tell me about their morning is “There was a really moving moment” or “the music chosen this week really captured the message” or even “the pastor’s message was really good.”  Later in the week, I’m reminded constantly by classmates and friends of how awesome their small groups and disciple groups are, but the description of these groups ends there.  “They just really get it,” or “I just feel really called to love on (only) this group of girls right now.”  If it was so moving, so accurate, so good – why can’t you share it with me?  Every Sunday, I would come back from mass to hear about how I missed out on all these “You had to be there” moments.

If the divinely inspired authors of the Gospel just wrote “Jesus did some great stuff, but you really just had to be there” where would we be today?  What would Christianity be?  Would it even exist?

We, as Samford students, get so wrapped up in our own personal experiences and in the memories we’ve made with our own respective Step Sing groups that we think it would be impossible for an outsider to understand.  We, as church members, or small group members, or even as ministry teams get so wrapped up in what happened in our own communities that we can’t share this with the outside community.  “You had to be there” - but we’re called as a body to spread these moments outside of the communities that were already there.

How does your greater surrounding community know your church?  The same way that our surrounding community knows step sing.  Our neighbors know us by our traffic.  Charities we’ve chosen to work with know us by our service.  Our friends and co-workers know the gist of what we do - but they don’t understand the enthusiasm.  They know that in step sing, we sing and dance and compete for an otherwise meaningless title.  They know that in our churches/small groups/ministries that we sit around and talk about God, or sing about God, or paint, or dance, or serve, or drink about God – but they don’t understand the message of God that we’ve been equipped to spread.

Staying tied to a community is important, but what we learn in these communities is more important, and sharing what we’ve learned in a sense of love and communion with those outside our comfort zones is most necessary. In step sing, I’m learning how to spend three weeks supporting a random group of girls, many that I’ve never met before, knowing that many will graduate in a few months.  I’m also learning some pretty sick dance moves.  These relationships are important, and so are these dance moves, but these lessons in teamwork, patience, and grace that we unknowingly learn during this time will last longer than this season of song and dance, and will better all of my future relationships and team efforts.  I’ll be sharing these lessons of teamwork and patience with everyone I meet for the rest of my life.  I’ve pulled out the dance moves and songs from previous shows as party tricks and ice breakers more times than I can count.  These lessons are nothing unless we share them.

 Likewise, our church/small group/ministry’s purpose should be to support and equip us to go out to those who don’t already understand God’s story, and our story, and any story, rather than encouraging us to only meet with each other.  If we’re speaking with people inside our churches about the Gospel more often than we’re bringing the Gospel to those outside of ourselves, then we’re not succeeding in our mission to advance the Kingdom.  Our Christian walk leads nowhere until we share it.

So go.  Go in peace.  Go in peace to love and to serve.  To love and to share.  To spread the Kingdom of God to all the ends of the earth.

Kicking Grandma Out of Christmas

Finals are finally over, and I’m found in that awkward Britney Spears “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman” phase called Christmas break.  I’m a full-grown adult with opinions and thoughts, but I’m also a guest and child in my parents’ home and I have to respect that.  Being in this phase puts me in a place where I can contribute to important family decisions - the first being “How do we incorporate your grandmother into our family Christmas.”

My first thought: “This is ridiculous. She is family. We just do family Christmas like we always have and let her come along for the ride.”

My grandmother, having suffered a stroke directly after the May 2010 floods, cannot sit in her wheelchair for long amounts of time, needs a fair amount of attention, and does not get out of her room much.  My parents and brother and I have the privilege and responsibility of sharing Christmas Day with her this year.  From mass, to opening presents, to Christmas dinner – we have to figure out how to best accommodate her needs while still sharing Christmas with each other.  We can set her up in a cozy recliner chair and let her doze off, or we can kick her out when she gets in the way and take her back to her bed.  These are both real options. 

This is a real problem.  Grandmothers everywhere are being kicked out of their family’s Christmas.  Grandmothers everywhere are being kicked out of their families.

Recently, I spoke with a pastor about bringing in younger families to his church.  The congregation is literally dying off from old age, and the new mission of the church is to reach some younger folks.  How do we do that? 

We kick Grandma out.

The first option given to me at this church was to throw out all the traditional music that these grandmas were used to, ignore these strong willed, southern women, and only play for the younger members.  Chris Tomlin.  Matt Redman.  Whatever you might hear on this Christian radio station.  Just kick grandma out.

Surprised and caught off guard, my first thought was, “Yeah, I can do that. Who likes grandmas anyways.”  But then I realized – The Church is a body with many parts.  The Church is a community of believers of all ages.  The Church is a family.  We can’t kick grandma out, but we can’t throw out the babies either.  

How do babies learn to speak?  They’re surrounded by family members who are speaking all the time – saying words that they’ve never heard, and eventually associating meaning with these words.  This is how we learn to worship.  We get our tradition from grandma.  Heck, we wouldn’t be alive if we didn’t have a grandma somewhere down the line. 

There is a time and a place for us to cater to only the young and old, but this place is not found in the times when we come together as an entire community and family.  We sing old songs because that’s what we were given by our grandmas, by the tradition of the church, by the history of our faith.  We bring our own new, young, hip, whatever songs to the table because what good is a family reunion without your aunt’s sweet potatoes and your cousin’s pecan pie. 

We can’t kick my grandmother out of Christmas because it is as much hers as it is ours, and just the same we can’t kick the strong willed southern women out of this church.  We won’t learn how to speak without being surrounded by it, and we can’t learn to truly worship without being surrounded by a community that worships together.