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Moses, Youth Ministry, and the Summer I Dyed My Hair

My ministry was lacking something for a number of years, because I didn’t know how dyeing my hair—and Moses—would affect my ministry.

I was taught a ministry model that urged me to pay close attention to students and enter their world so I could learn their language, clothing style, music preferences, and favorite places to hang out—all so I could relate to them. Then, once I’d practiced this missionary strategy and gotten to know my students, I could relate to them on their turf, speak to them in their language, and earn their trust by talking about their bands, clothes, and hobbies.

Living this model for the last 14 years, I’ve come to see how youth ministers are the greatest treasure the western church has in navigating the massive cultural shifts taking place in our world. Because we have been so intentional about loving, studying, and discipling kids, we were in the midst of the trends, cultural shifts, and ministry challenges 10 to 15 years before they became noticeable in the church-at-large. Now, our culture is becoming “post-Christian,” and other countries are sending missionaries to America. Youth ministers who’ve been taught to think like missionaries are the most likely leaders to help transition our churches into Kingdom-minded, missional outposts that recapture the energy and vibrancy found in churches in Acts.

This missionary mindset explains why we’re attentive to trends, so eager for any insight that will give us an edge in relating to students, and so adaptive to a youth culture that’s in a constant state of change. When I hang out with students, meet with people who hang out with students, or go to conferences with the people who hang out with students, the reversed ball caps, earrings, spiked hair, and ripped jeans are only external indicators of our greatest strength—a missionary attitude that seeks to understand, relate to, and then lead this generation to Christ.

I apologize. I was going to tell you how Moses should have dyed his hair. I digress.

This model has benefited me greatly in ministry; but while looking ahead to the coming challenges, I wonder if following trends and understanding culture will be all that helpful. Moses makes me wonder if my ability to spot trends, to enter my students’ world, and to minister in a relevant manner will be a Kingdom-building contribution. I remember times I’ve worked so hard to understand the trends affecting my students; I remember the energy I’ve invested to be like students; and when I try to line that template up with the ministry of Moses, something doesn’t fit.

Imagine Moses, returning from his 40-year exile, attempting to engage his Israelite peeps by learning how to talk and look like them. “Yo, homies! Whassssssuppppp?” doesn’t seem to fit in Exodus. Neither does a self-revealing comment from Moses, letting us know his intent to get some of the latest slave-wear fashions so he can earn a hearing.

By looking at the model and example of Moses, I see that my study of trends and the relevance of my ministry isn’t an end but a means. As Moses comes on the scene, he notices a trend; the Israelites are slaves, and not much has changed since he left. He’s also relevant, earning the trust of the leaders before his first meeting with Pharaoh. But Moses didn’t imitate the Israelites in order to gain a hearing; instead he went toe-to-toe with the established power structure that assumed ownership of God’s people, demanded that the most powerful man in the world let God’s people go, watched God humiliate their Egyptian masters—and then he offered God’s people the chance to be free.

Now the Israelites might have thought Moses was a good guy if he’d come into their world and hung out with them. They might’ve even liked him if his talks were relevant and funny. But would they have followed him out into the desert, through the Red Sea, and to the edge of the promised land if the only attraction was his wit and cool clothing style? At times, I’ve spent a lot of energy earning a student’s trust but not doing much with it afterwards. I feel like I’ve accomplished something if they think I’m cool and will give me a chance to share my faith with them. I know some youth pastors who feel this desire to be cool—one trying to be funny to impress his group, another worrying about his “look.” And if I’m honest, dyeing my hair during the summer of 2001 had more to do with being cool than anything else.

I believe my students have a great deal in common with the Israelite slaves. Now, the drummer in our youth band might not be spending his weekdays in a forced labor camp and whipped when his pace slackens, but his situation is similar to the Israelites after they leave Egypt. Remember what happened next in the story? Even though they were now “free,” the Israelites still acted as slaves. Their slavery was so pervasive because it was internal; they had no way of imagining life apart from being a slave. With no slave masters in sight, the smell of baking bricks nonexistent, and the pyramids gone from the rearview mirror, the Israelites repeatedly call out, “It would’ve been better for us to have been slaves in Egypt than for us to die here in the desert.”

In Egypt and in the wilderness, I see some parallels between the challenges Moses encountered and ones I face with students. Like the Israelites:

•There’s a group in power that assumes ownership of my students, viewing them as useful only for their ability to produce and consume.

•My students have forgotten where they came from and have no idea where they’re going. Unaware of their heritage as God’s people, they have no memory of past promises, no hope for a future home, and are easily manipulated to believe that today is about nothing more than what their masters tell them.

•My students have no idea that there’s an alternative way of life—a way to be a community that’s about different things and that relates to the dominant powers in a different way.

•My students’ internal identity isn’t as a child of God but as a part of the youth culture that dictates their clothing, interests, behaviors, and future. They’re so closely tied to this identity that even after they’ve become a Christian they have no idea how they would separate themselves from their current identity and live with a new one.

As a youth worker, my goal now is to be like Moses—to help students recognize their slavery and to capture their imaginations with a way of living in an alternative community they had previously thought impossible. This alternative way of thinking and living is in direct contrast with the dominant culture around them, and I must leverage every bit of trust I’ve earned to now lead them in a new direction.

A friend of mine recently talked to me about how difficult it is to change. At the tail end of his senior year in high school, the parties aren’t fulfilling; but he’s not sure how he would change or what he would change into. Coming in as a freshman, the script for the partying lifestyle was very clear, but now the script for changing is unclear. As I listened, I realized how much resistance he’d face if he chose to change. His friends at school and work would call him self-righteous; his girlfriend might break up with him; and there would be a period of loneliness. The script is so clear for our students’ lives that if you and I were to sit down and ask them what the cool, fashionable, or successful thing is for this weekend, this summer, after graduation, or during spring break, 90% of our lists probably would match.

Their lives have become a kind of liturgy that reinforces a certain way of living. Again, I see this parallel with the Israelite slaves in Egypt—the slaves wake up in the morning and the ritual of beginning the day reminds them they aren’t free. The walk to their work station reminds them they aren’t free, the foreman with a whip and the soldiers with spears remind them they aren’t free. The walk home, the housing, the smell—their entire daily routine informs them they are owned by a system that sees them useful only to produce and consume.

In his book The Prophetic Imagination, Walter Brueggemann studies the calling and ministry of Moses, noting how Moses introduced a pattern of prophetic ministry that’s been repeated throughout history, both in Israel and in the church. His opening statement, “The task of prophetic ministry is to nurture, nourish, and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the dominant culture around us,” is a scholarly way to say “we’ve failed to grasp the magnitude of our calling.” Beginning with Moses and studying Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Jesus, his study of the prophets’ ministries captured my imagination; and I realized that most of my youth ministry had been a reactionary venture to the culture around me. I was dreaming too small, trying to counteract the symptoms of my students’ lifestyles rather than addressing the core problem of a dysfunctional way of living.

Despite the challenges of the current high school experience, I see this as a time of great opportunity, a time for God to raise up leaders and teachers who’ll imagine for this next generation an alternative way of living life in the Kingdom—a way of life free from the sin that currently entangles them.

Imagine what would happen in your community if a Moses-like character appeared in the form of a youth minister, inviting students to freedom and a journey where they can live as God’s people? I can see at least three things this prophet would do:

•Begin to imagine for God’s people a way of living freely in the Kingdom that they themselves cannot imagine.

•Go toe-to-toe with the imperial powers that assume ownership of God’s people, watching God break culture’s hold on the students.

•Show the imperial powers to be powerless, leading God’s people to freedom, a season of refining, and the Promised Land.

So, in a time of discouraging trends, I’ve begun to imagine a time of great opportunity, where God will act, freeing our students from the devastation and giving them new life. As a minister to students, I’ve found this model to be incredibly energizing—opening new doors for me in my role. Working in this paradigm, I see several opportunities open up:

•I have a new desire to see God’s vision for my ministry with students, showing them how to live in the Kingdom.

•I have a new appreciation for my authority as a leader.

•I teach my students about transformation, not behavior modification.

•I can acknowledge the grief my students live with while pointing them to the renewal God will bring about in their lives.

While writing the final draft of this article, I took a break for a quick swim in our complex’s pool. As I got in, I saw a two-inch lizard that had fallen into the pool. Even though it was motionless and almost drowned, I cupped it in my hand to lift it out. The water drained out of my hand, and the little guy responded with a quick bite to my finger, causing me to drop him back into the pool, where he lay waiting for death to overcome him. I tried a second time, flipping him out of the water, so that this time he landed on the concrete. He lay there for a minute, letting the sun warm him until he ambled to the wall, climbed up the concrete, and disappeared to enjoy a warm afternoon that five minutes before was impossibly out of his reach. Without even looking at the color of my hair, he scampered away for his afternoon routine of hunting crickets; and I realized once again what dying my hair has to do with my role as a prophet—nothing, absolutely nothing.

Wes Dillon brings ten years of student ministry experience to his current role as executive director of PictureShock Productions, a ministry translating the Christian story into the visual language of teenagers. Wes lives in Mesa, Ariz., with his wife Kasey. Before this, he led the launch of the student ministries at CrossWay Christian Church, a church plant in Nashua, N.H.