
By Youth Specialties on February 08 2012
Have you noticed that “programming” has become a bad word in many youth ministry circles?
Really?
Don’t get me wrong, I love the push-back against those of us who have become so program-focused that we lose sight of why those programs were created to begin with. Sadly, I’ve seen way too many youth ministries running a Wednesday night program for all the kids that are dropped off by mom and dad. Relational ministry trumps this kind of programming any day of the week, an argument I support throughout my book Connect.
But when did “relational ministry is important” morph into “programming is ineffective?” Does one have to replace the other? How far do we have to swing the pendulum away from programming?
When did programming become the p-word?
Where Programming Missed the Mark
Before the year 2000, youth ministry had admittedly become pretty “program focused.” Evangelism had become a priority, but it was often accomplished by bringing people to “our stuff.” I think it’s commendable to invite people to church and outreach events, but if that is the only evangelism arrow we have in our quiver, we’re going to miss a large number of people.
Both outreach and discipleship were happening through programming. Reach people through outreach events. Help them grow by bringing them to church, worship events, or amazing youth group programs.
The youth ministry world got used to lights, smoke machines and fast paced videos. But people were falling through the cracks.
In the last decade people began noticing this trend towards programming with all its problems. They asked intelligent questions: “What about the kids who don’t want to come to our stuff? How do we reach them?”
The pendulum began to swing away from programming towards relational ministry. Books, articles, videos, and entire philosophies emerged discussing how programming missed the mark. These were great conversations to have. “Programming alone” did miss the mark. But the pendulum kept swinging… and soon “programming” became a bad word, altogether.
An Awkward Silence
Now I’ve heard youth ministries talking about how they don’t do programming any more. “Programming doesn’t work!”
Again. Really?
So what are we to do now?
And that’s where the blogosphere grew awkwardly silent. You’ll find an abundance of people talking about what “doesn’t work,” and very few of the same people talking about what does.
Shouldn’t we be careful to recognize the nature of the pendulum? Sometimes people become so focused on what they are against; they don’t know what they stand for.
The fact is, in my travels, I get to see 20 to 30 “programs” a year that are reaching people and helping them grow in their faith. Perhaps we should be careful being so critical of something that makes such an impact. Perhaps some of us haven’t really thought through the whole thing.
In a recent conversation with a youth pastor, he told me, “I don’t do programming any more.”
I decided to play along. “Cool. So what do you do now?” I asked.
“I just love kids.” He replied confidently.
“Awesome.” I pressed on. “What does that look like?”
“Pardon?”
I repeated my question. “What does that look like? When you love kids—what does that look like?”
He stopped and thought for a bit. “Well… I try to hang with kids on their turf.” (It’s funny how people often have adopted nice little sound bytes of what they believe, but when asked to explain, they have trouble articulating it.)
I pressed on. “What does that look like?”
He looked perplexed again. “You mean… where do I do it?”
“Sure,” I responded. “Where do you hang on their turf? How often?”
“Oh,” he replied. “I go to their football games and sometimes their school activities.”
“Nice,” I affirmed. “So… how many kids have you led to Christ at a football game?”
His forehead wrinkled a bit. I think I was pressing his buttons by now. “I’ve just been doing this for a little while now. It takes time.”
The conversation went on. I asked him what else he did with his time. He struggled moving from philosophy of ministry to real life application. In other words, the philosophy of loving kids sounds really nice, but what that looks like? He was still trying to figure that out. After all, the main premise he was working on right now was, “Programming is bad, so I don’t want to do that.” So he was spending a few hours a week hanging out with kids, and doing very little of anything else.
The struggle I find with the extremists who are abolishing all “programming” to just “love kids” is that they haven’t really thought the whole thing through. I’ve discovered this through numerous conversations with anti-programming people who really have no idea how to reach kids. I continue to ask questions like “What’s that look like?” and Dr. Phil’s favorite, “How’s that working for ya?” Pretty soon they don’t have any answers. They just insist that “programming doesn’t work.”
Seeking Community
Here’s a question for the anti-programming circles? What happens when “loving kids” actually works? What happens if we love kids, tell them about Jesus and then they put their trust in Him? Do we disciple them? What does that look like? Should every aspect of discipleship and spiritual growth be done one-on-one? (Remember, I’m a huge advocate for one-on-one) Or might we eventually want to gather together with others?
Here’s where this gets interesting. As big as a fan as I am of “one-on-one” ministry, I would never try to put all my eggs in the one-on-one basket, especially in a world where kids really are seeking community.
What about fellowship?
When the church in Acts was exploding, they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, prayer, the breaking of bread, and fellowship (Acts 2:42). Are fellowship and breaking bread done alone? Are they done in a park or in a coffee shop? What if 5 people want to break bread together? What if 10 people want to study the Bible together? What if 20 people want to go do something fun together? These all sound like positive venues. When do these venues become… the p-word?
Here’s what I’ve noticed. Good one-on-one evangelism and discipleship often leads to venues where people gather for the purpose of outreach, growth, or plain ol’ fun. Notice that I said the word “venues.” Why? Because I know that if I used the word “program,” people wouldn’t listen.
Here’s my point. Call it what you want, but “venues” where people gather can be beneficial:
See what I’m getting at? The above “venues” are pretty effective. Most “anti-programming people would probably have no problem with them… as long as we call them “venues.”
So I don’t care what you call it. The fact is, we need venues where people can meet together. Venues like this can actually open the doors to incredible ministry. We need church—whether in a home, or a building. Some people will even come to Christian venues like this when invited. (Heaven forbid!)
Programs, under the disguise of “venues,” still work.
So let me subject myself to my own question: What does this look like?
How do we make actually make disciples?
Programming isn’t a bad word… but stagnant is. Don’t let your ministry become stagnant by overreacting to anti-programming hype. Instead, find the nuggets of truth in the anti-programming criticism, and use them. Don’t allow your program to become the focus. Discover venues where people connect… and God changes lives.
Jonathan McKee, president of The Source for Youth Ministry, is the author of numerous books including Ministry By Teenagers, Connect: Real Relationships in a World of Isolation, and the award winning book Do They Run When They See You Coming? If you enjoy this article from Jonathan, you’ll also enjoy the call to purpose he demands in his book about programming outreach events, the award-winning book, Getting Students to Show Up. He speaks and trains at camps, conferences, and events across North America, and provides free resources for youth workers internationally on his website, TheSource4YM.com.