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When Did I Become My Parents?!

Scanning the crowd of kids attending my expertly planned event, I was confident that the proceedings were surely working wonders in their young hearts.

Little did I know it was my heart that was about to be changed.

It was your basic denominational teen camp with all of your typical evangelistic characteristics. Then Steven caught my eye. I could tell he was one of those "alternative" kids. You know the type: Body-pierced, skateboarding, thrift store-dressing lover of musical genres like goth, punk, ska, skacore, and rapcore. Those of his tribe wear their hair short, flat, and dyed and compare their tattoos and latest piercings. Steven himself had a brow ring, some tattoos, and bleached hair.

My mind began racing: How can I fix you? What can I do to make you look like me and dress like me so you can integrate into the church—and possibly the ministry?

Suddenly I was consumed with a bittersweet conviction. The bitter part slapped me hard on the face for my thoughtless thought process. I’ve always prided myself as a progressive youth worker. An adult who keeps in touch with teen subcultures. A critical thinker who stays allied with young people. And my prejudicial thoughts made me ashamed.

But I also received a sweet revelation, and it flooded my brain with a novel ideal: There is a place for this kid in the church! There’s a place for him in the ministry! Who was I to assume Steven needed to look and act like the youths and adults who exist in my comfort zone—who don’t invoke stares and whispered comments?

When did I become my parents?!

I drifted back to the day when, if a man had long hair and an earring, the response from the church was, "Don’t even think about applying for a staff position here!" But now a middle-aged guy with a ponytail and earring on your ministry staff is tolerably cool. I suppose that’s because the children of the ’60s and ’70s—the boomers and former hippies—are now running the show.

But the hippies of today—the postmoderns—are the ones who’re often despised and scorned for being too different, too radical, and too worldly for acceptance into our inner circles.

For me to judge and not accept them because of their outward appearances isn’t any different than what the powers-that-be did 20 and 30 years ago. If their shells are what I condemn, I am prejudiced.

And it wasn’t long before the person of Jesus popped into my head.

(He’s funny that way, isn’t he?) Jesus is the perfect model of grace and acceptance. When the woman was caught in adultery, the law clearly said she had to die—but Jesus shot back to her accusers, "Back off! You’re just as bad." He ate dinner with tax collectors and prostitutes, touched lepers, healed the crippled and demon-possessed on the Sabbath, and chatted with Samaritans.

But for such actions Jesus was accused of breaking the law—and was condemned by the authority figures of his day for it.

That’s Jesus. Full of paradoxes. Fulfilling the law by breaking it. Touching the untouchable. Healing the terminally ill. Raising the dead to life. Associating with the people who would do nothing but damage his reputation. Forgiving sin that "only God can forgive."

He stumped the Pharisees with his long narrative tales, yet somehow got through to the slow-witted. He often ignored the crowds who clamored for his magical touch, but he always let little children sit in his lap. He made the last first and the first last. He lost his life to find ours.

Yes, Jesus was full of paradoxes—and he was misunderstood and hated for it.

Are we willing to endure the same treatment in order to reach today’s teens?

Not only did he stand in the gap between God and man, Jesus also stood in the gap between a fallen, imperfect world and an establishment that loved the letter of the law but had no clue about the heart of God’s commandments.

It seems Jesus favored—then and now—a whatever-it-takes attitude when it came to reaching people.

As youth workers, we also stand in the gap—between kids and those who don’t want anything to do with them. Punkers, skateboard rats, death-metal rockers, ska kids—whatever you choose to call them—are in our midst. And they are ours. Will we try to change them? To make them look and act more like us? Or will we deal with our own insecurities and equip and empower them to reach their peers?

So what did I learn about Steven after putting aside my prejudices? He’s a youth-band worship leader in his church, and he hopes to reach the hurting and fallen of his own generation.

Maybe I—maybe we—need more of a whatever-it-takes attitude when it comes to reaching kids.

What would Jesus do, indeed.

A 15-year veteran of youth ministry, Carla LaFayette is a captain in the Salvation Army in Denver, Colorado, and a well-known speaker.