To All The New Kids
I've never been the new kid at youth group.
I'm normally the old hat, the one who greets the new kids, invites in, and watches over, and engages in the awkward conversations none of us really want to have. At my home church, I am comfortable. I know what is expected of me and I am good at it. I don't have to be shy. I don't have to watch my back. I only have to make sure others don't either.
Until last night, that is.
Last night, I was the one shuffling into the foreign youth room, clinging to the walls, flinching at dodge balls, and hoping somebody would come talk to me. I have a new respect for the new kids, 'cause that takes courage.
It takes courage to introduce yourself when the "greeters" at the new group come up and say hi.
It takes courage to engage in a game of scatterball with new rules and new faces and new arms whose strength and aim you've never known.
It takes courage to follow the long line of youth to the adult prayer meeting and lay hands on these strangers who are going away to Florida to serve this week.
It takes courage to stand among them and worship God when they are used the hand-raising and the kneeling and you are not.
It takes courage to say goodbye and wonder if they like you, wonder if they want you back.
And my courage is small.
Until last night, I didn't realize how hard all that was. But when at 12:35 a.m. I awoke panicked because I have to go back to that place, I got it.
So to all the new kids: Thank you. Thank you for your courage that lets others like me get to know your beautiful stories. You inspire me to keep trying, to get back on the horse, to enjoy even though it's scary and hard.
You inspire me to be more like our courageous God, who came into this world as an outsider--and left as its Savior.
I'm normally the old hat, the one who greets the new kids, invites in, and watches over, and engages in the awkward conversations none of us really want to have. At my home church, I am comfortable. I know what is expected of me and I am good at it. I don't have to be shy. I don't have to watch my back. I only have to make sure others don't either.
Until last night, that is.
Last night, I was the one shuffling into the foreign youth room, clinging to the walls, flinching at dodge balls, and hoping somebody would come talk to me. I have a new respect for the new kids, 'cause that takes courage.
It takes courage to introduce yourself when the "greeters" at the new group come up and say hi.
It takes courage to engage in a game of scatterball with new rules and new faces and new arms whose strength and aim you've never known.
It takes courage to follow the long line of youth to the adult prayer meeting and lay hands on these strangers who are going away to Florida to serve this week.
It takes courage to stand among them and worship God when they are used the hand-raising and the kneeling and you are not.
It takes courage to say goodbye and wonder if they like you, wonder if they want you back.
And my courage is small.
Until last night, I didn't realize how hard all that was. But when at 12:35 a.m. I awoke panicked because I have to go back to that place, I got it.
So to all the new kids: Thank you. Thank you for your courage that lets others like me get to know your beautiful stories. You inspire me to keep trying, to get back on the horse, to enjoy even though it's scary and hard.
You inspire me to be more like our courageous God, who came into this world as an outsider--and left as its Savior.
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