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An interview with Mark Yaconelli

Mark Yaconelli was at the end of his rope. "I thought I was well-trained and well-equipped when I went to a church to run a youth ministry. It was a new, million-dollar facility. They gave me a big budget and interns. And after two years I was ready to quit.

"Youth ministry was killing me. I was working 70 to 80 hours a week. The kids weren’t changing, none of them seemed very interested in what was going on, and the numbers were down. And because of all my time away from home, my marriage was in trouble."

Yaconelli grew up in youth ministry culture. He knew better than anybody, he explains, what it takes to succeed: "You do youth ministry for a few years, get an idea, write a book about the idea, speak about the idea, and then don’t do youth ministry anymore—because it’ll kill you!"

Even when Yaconelli decided to attend a spiritual retreat at a Portland convent, his motivations weren’t merely to get away from it all: "I thought, "Okay, spirituality. That seems like a new field. Nobody’s doing that in youth ministry. I’ll steal some ideas and write a book and get out of youth ministry—because I can’t do this anymore."

But Yaconelli’s spiritual life—in fact, his whole life—changed at that retreat center. So much so that he’s been volunteering his time the last several springs with youth working adults—via his Sabbath retreat—who want to learn about the practices of Christianity’s ancient desert mothers and fathers.

(He’s still working with students, too, by the way—has been for 11 years.) We caught up with Mark over lunch at his stomping grounds at the San Francisco Theological Seminary during the April Sabbath.

YOUTHWORKER: What exactly happened to you at the retreat center?

YACONELLI: I’m sitting in silence, and the first thing I recognize is an image of God as the judge—always expecting more of me: "That was good, Mark...but next time jump a little higher." And I think my kids knew I viewed God that way—and that’s why they weren’t interested in youth group! It’s ironic...the louder I talked and the more programs I did, the less my kids seemed to be interested.

The second thing I recognized came as a result of an imaginative exercise on the prodigal son. I thought it was stupid and didn’t think it made any sense, but we had two hours of silence on the schedule, so I thought I’d try it. Then after a while of putting myself in the prodigal son’s shoes and picturing myself walking on a road back to my father’s house, I suddenly was filled with this feeling of, "Welcome Home."

I know it might sound like a stupid, dramatic Christian story, but from that moment, everything in my life changed. When I came home, the first thing my wife said was, "What happened to you?" She could tell physically that I was different. My shoulders weren’t tense anymore. I had slowed down. I felt more alive. More myself. Less pressure. More rest in what I was doing.

And God was no longer just a philosophy or an idea or an expectation or a mission statement—God was a very ordinary holiness.

Ordinary?

YACONELLI: What I mean is that God is a holiness that’s right in the middle of everything in front of me. After a while I thought, "If God is in ordinary things like sitting in silence by myself, then why are we running so fast in ministry? Why are we doing so much? Why are we scheduling so many things? God’s presence is right here!" Once I had this experience that God is really alive, it changed how I saw my role in ministry. Suddenly it didn’t matter if I had a five-year plan for my youth group. My primary task was to listen—and to assist others in the same thing.

So I walked into my youth group, and again I’m thinking, "Okay, God’s right here—but what do I do with these kids? How do I point them to God’s presence? How do I help them notice God, to pay attention to God"?

What did you do?

YACONELLI: First I decided to simply get out of the way. You see, I had this so-called "relational youth ministry," but it was as if my students had developed relationships with me instead of with God.

I also started teaching my kids the ancient spiritual practices that I’d learned on the retreat. But after a while, I realized that adults need to learn these practices first. Otherwise how can we teach them to students?

I was weary of the same hyperventilation, the same look-busy-Jesus-is-on-the-way! attitude. There’s no good news in that. There’s no gospel in that. There’s nothing attractive about that. No one wants to follow a Jesus who’s always saying, "That’s not enough. Do more. Give more. Go out and save everybody." What was missing is sabbath—the idea of rest.

That’s when I thought a spiritual retreat specifically for youth workers was needed. I wanted to share what I’d learned with youth workers so they could learn to pay attention to God in their own lives—to not worry about ministry. I was trusting that something like the Sabbath retreat would help make them better youth ministers—and then they could impart to their students what they learn.

It seems that—for many Christians—what’s taught at Sabbath would be viewed as radical.

YACONELLI: During the first three years, Sabbath attendees thought it was very strange, very weird. They didn’t know what this was, and they had a lot of questions. But this year it seems more people know about ancient spiritual practices—at least an awareness of them. I believe there’s a movement in the church—some of us are calling it the Fourth Great Awakening—where we’re actually wanting to relate to God and seeking whatever path we can find to do it. The Sabbath retreat is one path.

All we’re doing is going back to some of the wisdom of the early church. Something happened to us with the Modern Age and the Enlightenment. We became fragmented—intellect and spirit were compartmentalized. I mean, there was no such word as spirituality before 1880! It’s a relatively new word. Because before then, it was just a given that being religious meant you had an active relationship with God. But suddenly religion came to mean belief statements, intellect, and philosophy rather than a way of life. So the word spirituality was needed in order to help us realize that we were missing something.

But the ancients didn’t have those separations. To them, reading the Bible meant a time of intimacy—listening and relating to God. It was a communion experience as well an intellectual exercise. It was holistic.

So now we need to hear from those desert fathers and mothers who knew how to hold all of that together—who didn’t see prayer as having its own category. Everything is supposed to be prayer! They used practices and disciplines that removed the obstacles and opened them up to God so they could be transformed. But this century we’ve turned that duty over to therapists and scientists—we have no tools. So we go back to Lectio Divina and the Jesus Prayer. And also—since God is alive and present and always doing a new thing—there are new ways of experiencing God’s presence today! Now we’re seeing the spiritual practice of combining art and silence; using the Jesus Prayer at retreat centers when it’s usually only recited at Orthodox services. Lots of different things happening.

I realize Sabbath is designed specifically for youth workers, but it doesn’t seem that one must be a youth worker to get something out of Sabbath—to receive something worthwhile to one’s walk.

YACONELLI: That’s because we don’t treat youth workers as youth workers, we treat them as people—real people with real issues who are seeking God. People who’re getting in touch with what’s in the way, how God’s seeking to attract them, and what their real hurts, pains, and longings are. That, to me, is the best kind of youth minister—a real person. That’s why there aren’t any name tags at Sabbath. That’s why we don’t talk about youth ministry, either! I don’t even allude to it.

That’s certainly atypical of most youth ministry conferences!

YACONELLI: Or any Christian conference. I don’t think we realize the depth to which our culture influences the church and how we perceive ourselves. In America, we define ourselves by what we do. In other words, "I’m a youth minister, so I go to the youth minister’s conference, and I get treated like a youth minister, and we talk about youth ministry." Our jobs end up being part of our false selves—the masks we wear. And that’s why at Sabbath there’s also a lot of doing nothing—or at least a lot of what many would define as nothing. Nothing immediately nor recognizably productive.

Not an easy thing to swallow for youth workers who’re focused on doing.

YACONELLI: No, not at all! There’s a lot of fear surrounding the idea of doing "nothing." I mean, it’s so much safer to stay busy in routines and to not ask questions and wonder and to not sit for a while with nothing but your own heart.

I can relate to that. During deadlines I’m often running and tired, but also exhilarated and full—like I’m doing what I was created to do, what "God wants me to do." But when the deadline is over and the lull comes, I sometimes feel a little empty: "My purpose for being isn’t around right now." That’s when the silence gets to me. So I sometimes really hesitate to take time off! [Yaconelli elicits a knowing chuckle.] I guess not having the noise and rush of work around me can be a nerve-wracking thing.

YACONELLI: Suddenly you have to be with you! The real you—without a job. How many of us ask ourselves where our faith would be if it weren’t for our careers in youth ministry? How many of us would really read the Scriptures if we didn’t need to come up with a great Bible study every week?

I believe that some of us are frustrated by exercises in silence because—rather than hoping we’ll receive a pure experience with God that’s for us and us alone—we’re really hoping to get new insights and ideas that’ll help our ministries! So we’ll have more and better stuff to produce! It’s as if we’re all marriage counselors, and our marriages exist only so we can get good ideas to help our counseling. So you go home and talk to your spouse and say, "Yeah! That’s really good. I’m going to use that next week with one of my patients. Let’s have another conversation about that and try this together. I might need that example for a client." (Laughter)

The priorities get reversed!

YACONELLI: And that’s exactly how youth ministry is sometimes! We relate to God in order to do our jobs! But what we need to say to each other is, "No, be spiritual leaders. Know how to seek God. Know the pain and struggle of sitting in silence and being aware of your broken places and anxieties and longings. Sit in that—and try to find God in that. Try to be those kinds of ministers. And then you’ll have something to offer." Otherwise why inflict ourselves on others as ministers?

I came to Sabbath—like others have commented—wondering if I’d "figure some things out." But I’m not figuring anything out! In fact, more questions are being raised.

YACONELLI: But that’s okay. When it concerns our spiritual lives, the answers often get in the way. Because once we have answers and words, it’s a closed subject. That’s why exercises at Sabbath are open-ended. It’s so God can be active and free to move. We’re saying, "There is a living, acting, present holiness—what are you going to do about it? How are you going to pay attention to it? What is God doing with you? How are you stirred? Attracted? Repulsed?"

Now those questions are really disturbing for people who think of God merely as a theological idea, a beautiful philosophy to die for, or a great story—not as a person. And even though they say, "No, that’s not how I feel at all. I know God’s alive," they don’t act like it! They never listen. They never wait. It’s always "just write the mission statement, and off we go."

But when we talk about a relationship with God, it should be approached like any other intimate relationship—with openness: I don’t know what you’re going to do with me tomorrow. I don’t know how we’re going to grow. But let’s say for example I turn to my wife one day and put her in a box—as if I already know everything about her. What happens? The relationship is dead. There’s no way to grow.

But what about God being "the same yesterday, today, and forever"? What about his eternal, unchanging qualities?

YACONELLI: I’m simply emphasizing that God is alive. He’s living. The Holy Spirit never lets us get comfortable. As much as we like to seek comfort, God doesn’t allow that. Again it’s like a marriage relationship. When the husband or wife knows what the other is going to say at every turn, the relationship is dead. They’re just two people going through the routines. But the living marriage is when the husband is always waiting on his wife’s next word, and when the wife is always waiting on her husband’s next word. We need to pay attention to God like that!

Some attendees raised concerns about the exercises in silence—the possibility that what we’re "hearing" in silent meditation isn’t necessarily from God. How do we recognize God’s voice in those instances?

YACONELLI: You mean the concerns that "maybe I’m only hearing my parents’ voices or my own psychological dysfunction or even darker spirits"? Well, the truth is you don’t know for sure. But at least during those times you know what you’re doing. At least in silence you’re more likely to notice the process you’re engaged in—and then you can reflect on it: Is this where I want to be? Is this who I am? Is this what I want to listen to?

But during the rest of our lives, we’re too busy to realize that we’re constantly—second by second—listening to thoughts and voices that may not be of God! We’re always susceptible to hearing them, no matter what we’re doing.

True, but are there ways to know when it’s the Holy Spirit speaking to our hearts and not something else?

YACONELLI: I believe there are good indicators—and nothing out of the ordinary. One is from Galatians 5:22—the fruit of the spirit. If we’re exhibiting more peace, kindness, patience, and generosity as a result of prayer or silent meditation, those are signs that God’s working in us. A second indicator is the Bible: Is what I’m sensing or feeling consistent with what the Bible says and who Jesus is? A third indicator is the witness of other Christians—brothers and sisters who are listening to and praying for us. Ask them what they’re seeing us doing and what they’re hearing us saying.

Another issue that’s been raised is that we shouldn’t need a lot of "extra stuff" to commune with God, to feel his presence. In other words, "If quiet times and prayer alone aren’t fulfilling us, something is wrong."

YACONELLI: We need to remember that there’s nothing sacred or magical about Lectio Divina or the Jesus Prayer. It just turns out that they’ve worked for a lot of people over a long period of time—just like quiet times and prayer work for a lot of people today. All we’re doing at Sabbath is reintroducing them; they’re simply alternate avenues to experience Christ’s presence. The point is that you need to find what works for you. What makes you attentive to God? If Lectio helps open you up, use it! If it doesn’t work, throw it out. The point is to be attentive, no matter what method you choose.

But consider this also: When my children are in a room with me—they’re two and four—I’m always aware of where they are. If I’m talking to someone, if I’m on the phone, I know where they are. I’m never not conscious of their presence, no matter what I’m doing.

So why is it so easy and natural to be aware of what our kids are doing but so hard to be aware of what God’s doing?

How do we develop that awareness in our daily lives? To be sensitive to God’s presence? Well, at some point we need tools to get us there—and these ancient spiritual practices can help us do that. And then the more we’re aware of God, the more we’re aware of our true selves—not the masks that our jobs, friends, and families create around us. Then we’ll act out of our authentic selves, from the true hearts God has given us instead of from outside expectations.

In the context of exploring ancient spiritual practices, another question that’s been batted around is, "What about the Bible? Where does Scripture fit in?" It seems a little deemphasized.

YACONELLI: Well, first I’d say that the basis of this whole week has been the passage from John 21. All of our exercises and discussions and messages have been anchored by different aspects of the account of Christ’s appearance to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberius.

The Bible is always our ground, our boundary—the Bible guides us. But more than that, the Bible also is the primary place where we listen to the Holy Spirit! I believe the Bible is Christ’s meeting place for us. Because, again, the Bible isn’t full of flat words, instructions, morals, beliefs, and doctrines—it’s alive!

On the other hand, Jesus also said to the religious leaders, "You turn to the Scriptures, but you won’t turn to me." It’s the same way today: Many Christians hide in the Bible and only pay attention to rules, laws, and morals. But the Bible is telling us to pay attention to what’s going on in real life—the Scriptures are always pointing us outward. That’s the goal: To apply what we know in the Bible to our daily lives and to pay attention to what God is saying to us. And not to pay attention to Scripture more as an end in itself.

This is the only question Christians should be concerned about: Is Jesus dead or alive? If Jesus is dead, then yes, let’s go to the Bible and read about what he did way back when, and let’s learn as much as we can about him—as we would with any other historical figure. But if Jesus is alive, we should treat him like a living person! He can say something new to us. He can take us in different directions. He can surprise us! That’s how you relate to living people—you learn new things from them. And that takes listening and paying attention. But we don’t do that nearly enough. We keep going back to the Bible as if Jesus is dead! We only relate to Christ once he’s "safe within the tome" instead of setting the Bible down for a while and looking around: What’s going on right here with me? Where is Christ now, and what am I being called to do?

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© 2001 Youth Specialties
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