19 Things I Learned In 19 Years Of Youth Ministry, Part 12

It all seemed so cool to me.

Duffy would walk into a lunchroom and it was kind of like having a celebrity walk in. Lots of people waved to him. He'd stop by and chat at as many tables as he could. Our friends would want to meet him so we'd introduce him. Everybody knew who he was.

He could show up at a sporting event and at some point one of your friends would say, "Hey, Duffy's two sections over. Let's go see him and Cynthia." We did.

We'd go to his weekly meeting, which had to be moved to a country club's meeting hall because we'd outgrown the homes we'd been meeting in the year before. He was really funny during the crowdbreakers and a good listener during the discussion and he seemed so wise during the wrap-ups.

His wife was pretty. His kids were cute.

Our group would join other groups at regional ministry events and all the other youth ministers there knew him and made a big fuss over him. He might be giving the instructions for the breakout sessions or saying the prayer before the meeting, but he was on the stage, man.

Duffy and his staff were all judges at our school's annual air-guitar competition that raised money for Toys For Tots.

From a teenager's point of view, I thought being a youth pastor was just about the coolest job you could have.

And, yes, it can be at times.

Early on in the gig, in our little community, Tracy and I had the same thing Duff & Cynth had. We'd go to the grocery store and know 3 of the 5 kids bagging the groceries and they'd all give us the "cool nod" and wave. We'd have been stopped on our shopping spree by a parent thanking us for our involvement in their kid's life.

Other youth ministers called us to train their staff on how to lead small groups or meet kids. On one occasion, the pastor of the church called me to replace their youth minister. No, I didn't take it.

Some of our students had parents that were involved in state politics, and they'd comp us with tickets to sporting events or set us up with some lunches with people who had deep pockets and might be interested in hearing what we're doing.

One time I got asked to sit on a town-hall Q&A panel on the state of local teens in which two politicians (one a U.S. representative, the other a high-ranking state official) were also invited. I got applause a couple of times during my answers because I'd been a bit less...let's say...ummm...political than my fellow panelists. I once was introduced by the principal at one high school (a Texas A&M grad) as "the twelfth man of his faculty" at the year-end PTA meeting. I got a plaque thanking me for being the chaplain of the high school football team.

Parents often thank you for your work.

Teens afford you all sorts of respect and admiration even if the expression of that is awkward sometimes. Sometimes it isn't awkward at all--it's beautiful.

There are a lot of strokes in this gig, man. The spotlight can shine on you at times. The praise after the mission trip. The hugs. The dads thanks for taking he and his daughter through True Love Waits together. The parents who tell you that you need to be preaching more.

But, between you and I, those moments in the spotlight are not nearly as common as...

...the stares into your fishbowl.

Your life is on public display...24/7/365 (366 in leap years).

My neighbors have compared me to another minister in my neighborhood with regard to doing our yardwork. I do my own, and this was viewed as good by the observer rather than paying someone. Never mind the other minister had a back condition that prevented him doing his own lawn, huh?

People walk into my home and take a long look at the CD rack to see what's in there...and ask questions like, "Do you think it's wise to keep this music out there where kids can see it? I mean, who's T-Bone Walker, anyway? Some rapper? That doesn't sound like it could be good?"

I've had glances coming out of a movie theater where the superhero nixed the bad guys that maybe I shouldn't have been there. People have once-overed my selections in the video store while trying to make small talk.

I've had my parenting skills called into question in public forums.

I've had my husbanding skills called into question in public forums.

I've had my professional skills critiqued in public forums. Never mind that my wife and children were privvy to every single word of it and the person in question couldn't have cared less about that reality.

I grow my hair for a charity for largely sentimental reasons and I've had my Biblical interpretive skills called into question. I got tattoos for very specific reasons, very deeply personal reasons that I'll still gladly share with anyone that asks, but yet I've been vilified for that, too.

I've had a letter written about me and sent out to some members of my support base by an area youth pastor who sent "spies" to my meeting, misquoted me, and literally slandered me (one of those parents I mentioned earlier who were involved in state politics were both lawyers and they took up the fight unbeknownst to me) all for teaching grace. My wife got to read the letter. Thankfully, my kids couldn't at that time. Interestingly, I was called responsible for "breaking down the moral foundations of the family." I was kind of excited I'd gotten that kind of power. Not really.

I've been told I'm a terrible small group leader/Bible teacher. I've been accused of playing favorites. I've been the victim of teenagers lying to their parents and the parents never questioning me or getting my side of it. I've been told I'm the reason people are leaving the church.

People compare the car I drive to what other pastors in the community drive.

So, my advice to anyone thinking of a career in the youth ministry gig? Be very aware that your life will have infinitely more fishbowl moments than spotlight moments. And, don't get me wrong, this is not negative at all. It's just the reality you'd better prepare for. To whom much is given, much is required. Peter Parker's grandfather was right on that one.

Of course, so's the Bible.