No Agenda

It's a retreat.

In the truest sense of the word.

We contract with the bus company.
We reserve the retreat center that surrounds a large lake in east Texas.
The only thing we ask of our teenagers is that they show up at meals and abide by some basic (and obvious) rules.
We give them a sheet of paper that has some ideas for Bible studies they can do and/or journal prompts from sermons, Sunday School classes or some quotes.
The former students and some adults are on hand with one job: Be available to chat just in case.

And then the magic happens.

They ask questions like, "Do you ever just wish you could give up the Christian life? I mean, it's just so hard and confusing."

They make you laugh until your abs hurt about Furby's that won't sell at garage sales or waving their arms like crazy during a bus roll call.

They organize and lead their own session of "So, what did God teach you today?" on the dock at night...not 10 minutes after the dance-move contest on that very same dock.

They include the kid that doesn't "fit."

They invite the younger girls into their cabin for "bonding"--which, as far as I can tell, involves spiritual discussion while making goofy hairstyles on each other and Teddy Grahams with frosting.

You don't even WANT to know about the guy "bonding"--which, suffice to say, is far less civilized.

They play games of touch football or ultimate frisbee, making up rules so everyone is included WITHOUT prompting from their youth pastor.

They take you up on the offer to give them some of the senior pastor's sermons for their iPods...then they sit on the dock and listen to it.

They don't care when you steal that very same idea.

The older ones sit politely while you tell the story they've heard 1,000 times to the freshmen who haven't heard it yet.

The former students walk up and tell you that a teen who didn't know Christ 20 minutes ago now knows Christ, and that they can't really explain how humbled they felt to be a part of the process.

They regail you with tales of goals in gym hockey and the incredible shot in H-O-R-S-E or the touchdown pass they caught as if it really mattered, and then you realize that it really did matter.

They talk about eternal things and the best band they've ever heard within 30 seconds of each other.

They run a little late behind in loading their stuff on the busses because they were having one last time of prayer together.

They even organize a brunch on their day off from school when they got back because there were more things to discuss and laughs to be shared.

You're sitting on a dock, listening to a sermon, then follow that up with a few songs of worship (and a teen is to your left doing the exact same thing), knowing that God is at work in the 78 teens and 12 adults somewhere behind you...

...and you realize...

...that this is precisely what God designed you to do and you're overcome with the reality that you're in the middle of His plan and you simply smile, say "thanks, God" because you've got the best job in the world and that the only way it could've been better was if your wife and kids could've come and that you are as happy as you'll allow yourself to be...

*smiling just thinking about it again*

Manalive. You've got to be kidding.

And you wonder why anyone would ever reduce student ministry to what amounts to glorified babysitting or providing wholesome recreation. It isn't difficult, really.

Just get a bus or two or three.
Then get a retreat center.
Then get some adults who walk worthy to be available.
Then provide a few thought starters.
And watch God work.

This is my job.
Manalive.
You've got to be kidding.