To be honest I’ve agonised over writing this. The last few years have not been easy, and there have been some very dark times. I’ve asked to remain anonymous and have been a little vague about some details because I don’t want to upset or offend anyone who has played a part.
So, deep breath, here goes.
We were happy living in the city. We were actively involved in our church (possibly over-actively involved!), with its great community, amazing worship and teaching, lots of social events, great mission-focused jobs, lovely flat… all was well. Then, slowly over a year or so, God seemed to be nudging us to move and get out of the holy bubble we’d created around ourselves, and to get more involved in youth work. Friends and strangers had words and pictures for us, even though we’d only told a handful we were thinking of leaving. It was almost as if pieces were falling into place in some celestial jigsaw. The nudging got harder and harder, so we threw caution to the wind and left.
We found ourselves 200 miles away in a pretty nondescript market town, the likes of which are dotted all over the country. We had a few contacts there, so we weren’t totally on our own, but it was a bit of a culture shock in any case. The church we settled in had a fraction of the congregation we were used to, and was rather stuck in the 1980s. We had a very, very warm welcome, which could have been down to the fact that we were the only people under the age of 40 in the building! We were told a little later that the church had been praying for a couple to come and get involved in youth work, and as that had been our prayer too, it seemed like it was meant to be and that the celestial jigsaw was complete.
GETTING STUCK IN
I remember the day so well when we found the youth ‘resources’ the church had – most of which were written in the 1970s! The congregation were such lovely people, passionate about welcoming more young people to sustain the church and inject a bit more life into the worship. There was a small, solid bunch of teenagers who had been coming along for a few years and who had weekly Bible studies, but it was rare to see them at church on a Sunday. The services themselves were very ‘hymn-prayer sandwich’ with a few retro choruses thrown in, so to be honest, I didn’t blame them for not coming.
Over the course of the next few months we got to know the youth well, and had spoken to them a fair few times about whether they wanted to encourage their friends to come along, whether we should do a Youth Alpha course and go to Soul Survivor, and they were keen. To cut a very long story short, within months we had over 60 youth coming, and a team of eight leaders. ‘Hoorah’, you might say… but that’s when it all started to go wrong.
STEEP LEARNING CURVE
The kids who came along were exactly those the youth leaders had been praying for. The ones who hung out on the streets at night, who enjoyed drinking and drugs, who were known to the local police; those who needed stability and role models. We were delighted and the church was too. There was still disappointment among the congregation that they weren’t coming to Sunday services, but our primary concern was for them to turn up at the youth night sober.
As the youth began to get to know the leaders and trust us, we learnt more and more about them. It got to the stage where we were dealing with all kinds of issues: drug and alcohol abuse, relationship issues, STDs, pregnancy scares (and a couple of pregnancies), self-harm, eating disorders, and some very nasty things that warranted disclosures. The police took to dropping in every now and then to check in on how things were going, to see if there was any trouble, and occasionally to do random drug searches. We always talked to the teenagers about Jesus, and after the first trip to Soul Survivor, we started a youth service. We ran youth nights every week, took them to events that were happening locally and in the nearest cities, and went to Soul Survivor every year. It was a pretty full-on couple of years, and it was a steep learning curve.
Throughout this time, it seemed to us that the congregation were supportive in theory, but equally concerned about the security of the building and potential vandalism. The measure for success seemed to be how many came to the morning service – which hadn’t changed format. The youth team were all holding down full-time jobs, ourselves included, and there was an expectation that we would be at the morning service too. We reported back at every church meeting, but our words seemed to fall on deaf ears. We held a fundraising quiz, and no-one – not a single person – from the congregation came.
I remember counting up the time we as a team gave to the church in one particular week, and between seven of us we volunteered 65 hours – that’s roughly nine hours per person. Life outside of church was pretty non-existent.
THINGS FALL APART
Sadly it all unravelled quite quickly. The minister, who had been so vocally and practically supportive, announced that he was leaving to head up another church. We knew that being without him would make fighting the battles a lot harder as he was the most progressive person on the leadership team. Not long after, two of the youth team moved away for work reasons and a third took a long-term break. That left four of us. Another blow came soon after when one more announced that they were moving away. So, within four months, the team had been reduced to three people and the church had no minister.
If I’m honest, a big part of me was jealous that they didn’t have to deal with the mess any more. We prayed so hard – so hard – about what to do next. We were, and still are, so fortunate to be connected with some incredible people from our city church, and their wisdom came together with our prayers to make a tough decision.
My husband and I had decided to ask for a three-month sabbatical. We gave a term’s notice, promising to train up new leaders and plan a programme with them for the period when we wouldn’t be around. We spoke to the youth about what we wanted to do, and asked them to get involved in figuring out the future.
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?
No one came forward. Not a soul. I couldn’t understand it – was God not telling people to help out? Or were they not listening? Or had we got it completely wrong? I began to feel less and less a member of a mission-focussed church community and more like one of a bunch of people getting together for a cuppa on a Sunday morning.
So our notice period came to an end, and we handed the keys back. We made sure that leadership knew how to contact the youth to let them know what was happening. They decided instead to stop everything that we’d been doing, sell the equipment, and return the funding we had been given. That was that after four years of hard work.
It was awful – I hated letting the teenagers down, but we knew that it was the right time to stop. We explained what was happening to the youth, and most of them understood that we needed a break and were not rejecting them out of hand. Still, it certainly wasn’t easy.
CALLED TO FAIL?
The worst thing in all of this for me was not the heartache of the stories, nor the disappointment with things closing down, or the sadness when friends moved away. The worst thing was that we felt we were called by God to do something, it failed, and I still can’t see what purpose it had for us as a couple. That hurts.
I don’t doubt that little seeds have been planted for some of the young people, and I know that a handful of them are now clean, sober and doing well educationally – but boy, do we feel rejected. It’s almost impossible for me to hear or read anything about God having a plan for us; everything having a reason; him never leaving or forsaking us. Although I know they are true, I just can’t apply them to this situation.
Do I feel like we’ve been conned by God? Yes, sometimes. Do I feel that he’s led us up a path that’s a dead end? Yes. Do I find it hard to trust church communities? Yes. Am I wary of getting involved in anything in our new church? Yes.
I have wallowed in this. I’m climbing out of that valley of the shadow of death – the death of my dreams and hopes. Someone once said that there’s hope in the valley, because there has to be a source of light to form a shadow – but it has been pitch black for me.
After a good old while without a church, we’ve just started going to another one a short drive away. The folk are lovely, and the very first sermon we heard was about faith coming before religion, that what the building is used for is more important than the bricks, and that the church should welcome people warts and all. We like that. So, we’re going back, albeit not every week, and are tentatively exploring to see if we want to call it home.
So what have I learned? I suppose if I could give just a few pieces of advice to someone going through a similar experience to the one I’ve described, they’d be as follows:
Run away I don’t for a second mean ignore God’s calling. You need to hang on to that with an iron-fisted grip, and don’t let go. What I do mean is: run away to another church every now and again; get your spiritual fix from somewhere else if your church is not providing it. You can’t support people unless you are being supported yourself (like that game where you form a circle and sit on each other’s knees). If you are anything like me, you must find a place to pray, be prayed for, cry if you like, jump up and down in worship – and be you, not a youth worker.
Say no If you don’t want to do something, say no. And then say no again. And again, until the message gets through. You should be free to volunteer for things, not be volun-told to do them. My best friend was given a t-shirt recently with a big fat NO printed right in the middle. Get one, wear it to meetings and point at it with a big stick if you have to.
Be open about the issues Everything came to a head for us one year at a festival. We were at a seminar for youth workers and the leader encouraged us to share with those sat near us all the good stuff that was happening in our youth group. My comment? We had not had to do a disclosure or pregnancy test this month. I didn’t say it to shock at all – for us that was good news! Those who heard it were horrified. During the festival we just became so weary of sugarcoated stories: ‘Billy came to us full of hurt and pain because of his drug problem, but he accepted Jesus and now his life is completely changed.’Utterly brilliant, but I wanted solace in hearing about the nights that you had to kick him out of the youth group, or call the police because he was dealing drugs, or the difficult conversation you had to have with his dad to persuade him that the church isn’t a cult.
Find yourself an agony aunt Talk to your church leader. If you can’t, show them this article and just say ‘that. That’s how I’m feeling’. It’s absolutely right to celebrate and keep your eyes on the prize (so to speak), but surely we’ve got a duty to share the pain too so that we can learn from and support each other?
Get practical support within and outside of the church Find people you can talk to. Find people you can pray with. Learn and understand best practice around safeguarding, disclosures, social services, helplines, what other youth providers in your area are doing that you can plug into; it’s not up to you to do everything. Get a handle on who the best people are for you to network with and grab a coffee with them.
Don’t forget why you are doing what you are doing This speaks for itself really, if you are following a calling. Someone once took a chance on you as a young person – now it’s your turn to take a chance on someone else. Run with perseverance, as Paul said. For us, we’re sure we need to be working with teenagers in some capacity and we’re holding onto that.
I hope this hasn’t come across as doom and gloom. There have been some very good times indeed, and I could write for pages on those stories. But in a world that is looking for authenticity, for reality, for truth - perhaps it’s time we were true about the struggles of being a youth worker too.
The author of this article wishes to remain anonymous.
