Uncomfortable...In The Best Way

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I've embedded the video since the original post
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There's been a lot going on at my church the last 7 weeks or so. Some of it wretchedly, horribly bad. Some of it inspiringly, wonderfully good. Crisis will do that.

The crisis coincided with my 10th anniversary of working for students there. Lots of energy and effort was expended to deal Biblically with said events. To manage the details and minister to the new levels needed by our members (keeping in mind the "normal" levels of ministry never went away) became the highest priority of the leadership and staff. Crisis will help you figure out what those priorities are.

The leadership, in my opinion, handled the situation admirably (and continues to do so, if you're wondering. It ain't over yet.). Now they're starting to focus on vision and ministry "as usual."

Part of which meant they wanted to show me how much they appreciated the years of service. They've done so continually for the last decade so it seemed redundant to me, but they seemed dead-set on making a fuss.

Generally, I don't like a fuss being made about me. Or my work. I love what I do. I'm built to do it. I get to do it at a place that I enjoy. My church really seems like family to me. And they want to make a fuss about me? I should make a fuss about them. I try to.

The fuss involved putting my family and I on stage. They gave us nice cards people had written. There was a nice gift. There were nice words spoken about me and my family. There was a plaque:



There was also a video made by my staff. They didn't want sappy sentimentalism so they went with the fun factor...they said the goal was to show that one of our staffers was having fun and enjoying their work. Mission accomplished. Here it is:



There was a reception. With cake. And a big card for everybody to sign.

And yes, it all made me very uncomfortable. A good uncomfortable...but uncomfortable nonetheless.

I felt like I should be the one thanking them.

See, my church recognizes the value of my wife in my work. They put her name on the plaque, too. Her picture was in the card.

See, my church recognizes the sacrifice my kids have to make because they share their dad with so many others (which includes a video of their dad that would make most teens cringe from embarrassment, but they understand and think it's pretty funny, too.) That's why they put them on stage.

See, my church always seems to find room in the budget for whatever schemes and visions our staff comes up with.

See, my church builds rooms, decks and coffee shops so we can do ministry effectively.

See, my church values having teenagers be a part of their body right now...not some vague idea of "church of the future."

See, my church has supportive parents, even if they don't always see the method behind the madness. They at least give us the benefit of the doubt and most of the time encourage us.

See, my church has elders and other staff that wnat us to succeed. They don't get very "territorial" because they understand a healthy student ministry is good for the entire church.

See, my church understands that spiritual formation is a slow business. They understand it takes a lifetime and where I'm stationed is often foundational to the building...and when the goal is love, from a pure heart (it's on the plaque, so they certainly have heard it enough from us) and all that, it can be hard to quantify "success." But they understand the realities of ministering to teenagers.

See, my church likes it when we hire staff that started in our ministry in middle school and stayed with it into college.

See, my church values discipleship...even when that gets messy.

See, my church lets me be who I was created to be. They seem to encourage me to think outside the box. Actually, they encourage me to eliminate the box altogether and build a new box to then, in turn, eliminate that box and repeat the process.

And I could go on and on.

Yes, I was uncomfortable with the fuss. But for them to thank me, while I appreciated it greatly, seemed silly to me. I should've been thanking them.

So, while I have the chance:

Thank you, my family at Crossroads, for 10 wonderful years. I only wish there were better words to express how much you mean to me.