My favourite example of extreme statements designed to wind up others is my ongoing claim that I brought back the high-5. Go with me here… There was an era, vaguely around the turn of the Millennium, when people stopped high-5ing. This was a sad, high- 5-less time. Sometime in late-2004, I decided, as a rambunctious 16-year-old, that I could do something about this. So obviously, I started high-5-ing. Fast forward 12 years and BOOM; you can barely move for people handing out high-5s like they’re going out of fashion.
Unsurprisingly, people tend to disagree with my assertion that I’m solely responsible for this comeback. This, inevitably, results in arguments. I back firmly into my (somewhat ridiculous) corner and the dichotomy between the two viewpoints widens. (But seriously, I definitely, unquestionably brought back the high-5 and, to be honest, I’m fed up of people doubting me.) As ridiculous as this sounds, we often create similar kind of dichotomies in youth work. When faced with paradox and tensions in youth ministry, we back ourselves into our corner. Rather than engaging with the tricky middle ground (‘maybe you did start high-5-ing, Jamie, but it’s tough to imagine you’re solely responsible for its comeback’) we get further entrenched in our own position and turn a tension into an argument.
In her ‘Balancing act’ feature this month, Jo Dolby brilliantly explores the nature of tension and paradox in youth ministry, and how this can actually lead us into deeper thinking and practise, rather than causing headaches. The line which particularly stands out for me is ‘The point of the paradox is not to solve it, but to listen to it’. When we reach things in youth ministry that seem inconceivable to live with, be it the balance between sacrifice and Sabbath, faith and deeds or strategy and spontaneity, what is our approach? So many of these things are about perspective. I was once attacked by a swan while I was walking along a canal. The creature flew into me, beating its wings. It was pretty painful. From a nearby bridge, it probably looked as if I was dancing with this swan. To fully engage with paradoxes, we’ve got to acknowledge the fallibility of our perspective.
There are tonnes of things that, with our earthly minds, we’re never going to properly comprehend. Rob Bell gives this beautiful illustration of a pen: if you’re living in a 2D world, the pen is either a circle (from the end) or a rectangle (from the side). In our limited humanity, we get into heated arguments about circles and rectangles and God just looks on. We ask whether it’s a circle or a rectangle and God replies: ‘Yep’. In our youth work this month, we’re all going to encounter things that are tricky to get our heads around. Ultimately, we’re faced with a choice. We can retreat into our safe space, and angrily defend the views we feel comfortable with, or we can engage with the mystery and tension and allow our views to be shaped by the mess that we end up in while working with young people. One of these models can lead to change and dialogue. The other leaves us stuck in old, familiar ruts. So this month, I’m going to choose to be less argumentative. Hopefully.
