The Essence of Dave

On "Teenagers"

2010-10-12T11:44:00.000-07:00

My wife and I love to watch "The Office" on NBC. This is our routine most Thursday evenings.

I was intrigued by an interchange in a recent episode between Michael (the dysfunctional boss), and Oscar (the Hispanic accountant). It's not verbatim, but the dialogue went something like this..

Someone refers to Oscar as "Mexican."

Michael: "Is there something else we could call you that would be less offensive?"

Oscar: "Less offensive than what?"

Michael, uncomfortably: "Less offensive than Mexican."

Oscar, confused: "But that's what I am, Michael. I am Mexican. Why would that term be offensive to me?"

Uncomfortable as it is, this scene provides valuable social commentary to all who will listen. Michael obviously adheres to an unhealthy stereotype of the Mexican community, to the extent that the term "Mexican" itself holds a negative connotation in his mind.

Think for a moment of all the terms that illicit strong stereotypes in our culture: Republican, Democrat, Evangelical, Attorney, Chiropractor. You get the idea.

Now, consider the following baggage-laden term: Teenager.

What thoughts come to mind? Responsible or Lazy? Respectful or Disobedient? Selfish or Selfless? Agents of God or Objects of Ministry and Correction?

I think I know how most adults would answer this question. Let's face it, the word "Teenager" does not carry the most positive connotations in our culture.

For this reason, I try not to use it.

The past couple of years I have tried hard to replace the word "Teenager" with "Student" in my personal conversations. In the churches I have served, it is common to speak of "the Teens" as a collective entity. Another troubling term, I'm afraid. I prefer to speak of "the Student Ministry" when referring collectively to our group of students. (Did you catch that - our group of students.)

Don't discount my point here as a mere semantic preference - there is much to say for the names we call things. Let's face it, Shakespeare was an idealist on this issue. Call a "Rose" a "Tumor" and you immediately understand it differently.

Now, just to be clear, the term "Teenager" is not inherently bad. Just as "Mexican" accurately describes a particular people group, "Teenager" accurately categorizes a group of particular age. Fair enough. Perhaps we retain specific use of the term "Teenager" for categorical purposes. If so, only because it accurately reflects the age of this people group in question.

With this in mind, let me expand my point one step further.

If "Teenager" proves troublesome as general reference to a young person, the word "Kid" is far greater still. Surely you have heard someone (maybe a well-intentioned youth worker) refer to the "kids" in their youth group? At least, with "Teenager" we find an accurate age distinction. "Kid" is synonymous with "Child" in the English language, implying all things childish: behavior, dependency, need for discipline, etc.

Is this how we view our students?

Now, we all know those students who rightly earn the "Teenager" branding, for all the wrong reasons. This does not mean that all of our young people deserve the stereotyping that comes with this distinction. One bad apple should not spoil the whole barrel.

So, the next time you refer to the young people (those aged 13-19) in your church, school, community, consider carefully the implications of your terminology. Our students will rise or fall to our expectations. What could we possibly expect of "Teenagers" or "Kids" in our adult world?

Set the bar higher, please. Call our young people Students.

- DB

To All Who Minister:

2009-09-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

So I had this kid in my youth group several years ago. Full of potential, but a real pain in the butt. I wished he would get involved in our student ministry. He was always too busy. Sometimes he would participate; those times, he was a pain in the butt.

That kid is now a youth minister. A good one.

I keep a picture on my desk of me and this former student. We met up at a youth conference not long ago; each of us present with our own groups of teenagers. We are friends now. Colleagues.

I never saw that one coming.

I received a note this past week from another former student. This one was a great youth-grouper back in the day; one of my favorites.

Though a favorite of mine, this girl loved to make fun of my age. I was 24 at the time. It didn't matter; I was the "old" guy. Typical for an "old" guy, I was supposedly also a lousy driver. Once, she accused me of almost hitting a helpless pedestrian. (Okay, I earned that one.) This girl never let me forget. I was mocked; ridiculed. "The old guy who can't drive."

The note I received? Turns out this girl-now-mom and mother of two now volunteers to drive teens from her church to camp every summer. This summer she was accused of being old and ridiculed for her poor driving. She just wanted to let me know.

Touche.

That note is hanging on the wall in front of my desk. It will for a long time.

Two of my former students married ministers. Another went overseas to do mission work. Still another is in seminary, preparing for foreign missions. The student I hear from most often? Probably that girl who came to our group as a "visitor", later to graduate from a Christian University, move back home and volunteer as a small group leader in a local student ministry.

I sometimes wonder if my work makes any difference. Some days, ministry feels like a fruitless and hopeless enterprise. I can't show you the picture that sits on my desk. It's inappropriate to fully disclose the contents of the note hanging on my bulletin board. In their stead, to all who wonder if your ministry will ever bear fruit, I offer this post as an affirmation and encouragement.

Don't give up.

- DB

The Minister Tag

2009-07-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

I never wanted to become a minister. My wife never wanted to marry a minister.

So much for all that.

I tend to be paranoid at times; always over-analyzing things, often losing sleep over pointless matters. I am the first to admit many of my "intuitive hunches" are way off base. Take what follows with a big grain of salt.

I have a group of old friends from highschool with whom I have tried to make contact. Most have become my "Facebook friends", but that's about all. Because we are "friends" I am able to see them online and browse through their postings. It has been interesting to see where life has taken people and how the years have changed them.

These friends would certainly say the same of me.

In highschool we partied together. Though we were good kids, we did engage in some destructive behaviors. Nothing serious, but nothing I would recommend to my own children either. Our group was close, and we spent much time together.

The college years sent us in different directions. Some went to school, some worked, others even married. A few stayed in touch, but most were scattered.

I was the guy who went off to school and later became a minister. No one saw that one coming; not even me.

Ministers have always been too fuddy-duddy for me. Too straight-laced, too polished.

Ministers are the conscience of the faith community. They don't drink, swear, or watch R-rated movies. Ministers are boring at best, preachy at worst, and few people want them around when it's time to get the party started.

Ministers wear a scarlet letter of sorts. Call it: The Minister Tag.

I never wanted the Minister Tag. Today I wear one everywhere I go. Not everyone sees my Tag right away, but given time, they recognize me. Surprisingly, my Tag is often well-received. I am amazed how many Christians I meet; how many random strangers seem to appreciate my work. Even the government gives me special tax privileges, all because of my Minister Tag!

But to my old friends, the people of my former life, my Minister Tag seems little more than a red flag. "Be careful what you say," they whisper, "Don't let him know you have beer in your refrigerator. Don't mention your divorce. Don't invite him over on poker night; after all, what would a minister think of such things?"

All reasons I never wanted the Minister Tag.

I see pictures of my old friends together, laughing. I see notes they have posted on each others' profile pages. I know they can talk and share and confess to a variety of things together.

Things change when the minister enters the room.

Like Paul, I want to become all things to all people. I want to live and laugh and play with others, whether they are drinking or gambling or bemoaning their broken marriages. Regardless of popular opinion, I am capable of this sort of relationship, without judging or condemning others. Sadly, I often feel judged myself; ostracized from relationships that are more relaxed and enjoyable in my absence.

To be excluded, to be uninvited; to be passed over or conveniently ignored, is to wear the Minister Tag.

- DB

Someone Pooped on the Slide!

2009-06-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

A brief glimpse into my life this week. Seven days with mommy out of town - I am beginning to understand why she is often worn to a frazzle by the end of the day...

Tuesday, June 23, 6:30 PM

We are at McDonald's - just dad and the kids. Should have fed the kids an hour ago - got caught up with some emergency sprinkler repairs. Kids are fussy. My fault...

I am worn out from an all-day service project with our student ministry (thanks, Chelsea, for babysitting!). The plan is to eat with my kids and let them climb on the play place for as long as they like.

Never mind the air conditioner is broken at home.

Forget about the broken sprinkler line that is scheduled to release gallons into the neighbors yard if I don't get it fixed by dark.

For now, just enjoy a break - take some time to relax with the kids.

7:05 PM

Someone pooped on the slide!

Not my kids, luckily. But sure enough, about halfway up the big yellow corkscrew slide, someone had left a present for the rest of us to enjoy. "I wondered why it smelled like poop in there," said my acutely observant daughter.

Everyone out of the play place!!! Time to speed home for emergency baths.

This puts a kink in my schedule. I had planned a trip by Home Depot for supplies to fix my sprinkler line. Disinfectant is the priority now.

7:12 PM

Emergency call to one of our trusted sitters:

"Amanda, I know this is a weird request, but could you stop by to watch the kids for a bit so I can run to Home Depot before dark?" Of course she could - Amanda is awesome!

8:35 PM

I have bathed the kids and everyone is in their pajamas. Amanda just got here, and I am off to Home Depot.

"Sorry the house is so hot," I say, "our air conditioner is broken."

8:38 PM

On my way to Home Depot I wonder if I should have measured the width of the tubing I am replacing on my sprinkler line. Surely not. After all, I just fixed a similar break in the same system a week ago. 3/4 inch is what I need.

9:12 PM

I am home. Amanda is released of her duty. There is still enough glow on the horizon to see what I am doing! Off to the back yard.

9:25 PM

Turns out I needed 1 inch pipe instead. I should have guessed.

10:45 PM

Everyone is finally in bed asleep. I'm not sure how - the house must be 90 degrees inside.

I sit on the couch, defeated...

Wednesday, June 24, 3:55 PM

Thank you, Lord, for my wonderful wife. I could not do this alone. Thank you for Chelsea, Amanda, Pat, Diane & Larry, Jane & Michael; all those in the family who are helping me out this week. Thank you for my daughter, who watched the boys while I fixed (small victory) the sprinkler line today. Thank you for the guy who got our air conditioner running.

I'm in a better place now.

Time to address the growing puddle that is bubbling from our A/C unit in the basement...

- DB

Your Thoughts, Please?

2009-06-10T12:09:00.000-07:00

I invite you to weigh in on the following issues.

In 1997, the Youth Ministry and Spirituality Project began a reform of contemporary ministry practice in North America. After ten years of research and experimentation, the following four discoveries were made:

1. Current approaches to youth ministry neglect the spiritual life of youth ministers, adult volunteers and youth.

2. People long to experience God within their own lives.

3. Communities of transformed adults, living lives of prayer and service, attract and transform the lives of young people.

4. Youth desire to recognize God's presence in their lives and to be empowered to live out their calling.

Based on your experience, how accurate are these findings? What are the implications for churches as we engage the work of youth ministry?

Your thoughts?

- DB

Resource cited:

Yaconelli, Mark. Growing Souls: Experiments in Contemplative Youth Ministry. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2007.

Tuesday at Caribou

2009-05-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

Today is newsletter day. I am sitting with my laptop at Caribou Coffee; six mile and Haggerty. I have my coffee, and I’m diving into my newsletter. Hopefully my work is finished before I head home.

There is something weird about this place. My coffee (some minty, mocha thing) is awesome. I also love the atmosphere here; the “lodge-like” setting makes me feel like I am back in the mountains of my childhood. Sweetening the experience, I even got a great deal on coffee beans to take home! Still, something’s just not right.

Every Thursday I keep “office hours” at Panera Bread; Schoolcraft and Middlebelt. I have frequented this Panera every week for about four months. As weird as it sounds, that Panera has become something of a home to me. Want proof? This past week I was greeted by name at the register...

As I walked inside Caribou today I was lost. There is a different menu here. Many more drinks to choose from; hardly anything to eat. It took me forever to order.

Not so at Panera. I have my routine down. Always a house coffee; sometimes a cherry pastry. I have my favorite booths. I know where the outlets are for my computer. I know Ashley, Sara and Ian behind the counter. That Panera has become “my” coffee shop.

Ever visit a church where things just felt different? The atmosphere was cooler, the worship more exciting? Ever think: “I wish my church could be more like their church?” Well, consider this: your church is just that - your church. Which holds greater meaning, a minty mocha, or a group of people who know you by name?

- DB

Our Moral Failure?

2009-04-13T06:43:00.000-07:00

Christianity is not about morality.

To follow Christ is to emulate his example. To be sure, morality plays its part. Jesus was a good and honest person. Never do we find Jesus at the horse track in a drunken rage, cursing his misplaced bets while swiping popcorn from his neighbor. Make no mistake, Jesus is the model for moral behavior.

He did hang out with prostitutes, though. Ate with sinners, that sort of thing...

I would say more here, but I think you've heard this sermon before. At least, I hope so.

Here's the problem. When moral behavior is our ultimate objective, we neglect much of our calling as disciples. Following in Jesus' footsteps includes time spent with sketchy people. It demands the nerve to challenge the pious fuddy-duddies of our day. Following Jesus means endeavoring to be holy, not simply moral. It has to do with where we spend our time, money and energy, and how closely related those things are to communion with the Father.

So here's the tragedy that occurs in our churches - from the admittedly less than objective standpoint of a full-time youth worker:

We parents are increasingly concerned for the safety and well-being of our children. Rightly so - our world is getting scarier all the time. We Christian parents see hope in the morality of our faith. While others' kids struggle with teen pregnancy and alcoholism, our young people have a chance to avoid all this, simply through adherence to a Christian moral initiative. We parents recognize this, almost instinctively.

We ask, "What would Jesus do?"

That's a no-brainer. Jesus would wear a Silver Ring and preach abstinence to his friends.

Maybe he would. And so should our young people.

We affirm, "That's what Christianity is all about."

So, as parents, we do everything we can to insulate our young people. Keep them pure, keep them clean, keep them safe, at (almost) all costs. We say things like:

"As long as they are keeping busy..."

And:

"As long as they are hanging out with good people..."

And we assume that busy-ness and responsible company holding will protect the moral development of our young people. Not only does this make sense, it becomes high priority when morality is our ultimate objective.

Here's the rub:

Annie finds her niche in volleyball. Volleyball keeps Annie busy. Annie's team is full of good and mostly "moral" people. Through volleyball, Annie can stay busy (keeping her out of trouble) while spending time with a good (relatively moral) group of people. Thus, volleyball can be Annie's salvation.

It can also become her God.

So, with the best of intentions, Annie and her parents embrace the volleyball God. Annie plays competitively four months each year, not including a handful of tournaments in the off-season. Annie attends two volleyball camps in the summer and a team retreat in the fall. Annie trains and conditions with her team almost year round.

She is busy. She is hanging with a good crowd. There's no time or influence to become pregnant, thank God.

The youth group at Annie's church volunteered at a homeless shelter this past weekend. Annie did not participate - she had a tournament on Saturday.

On Sunday mornings the high school class at Annie's church has been studying spiritual disciplines. Students have selected disciplines to employ in their lives, and each week the group reports together on their experience. Many have said this class has had a profound impact on their faith. Volleyball has consumed Annie's weekends this season. Annie has not been to class in months.

Annie's involvement in volleyball insulates her to some degree. It keeps her busy, safe and moral to the extent it can. If morality were the objective, good parenting coupled with a full volleyball schedule may indeed be Annie's salvation.

But we all know (don't we?) Jesus is Annie's salvation. Not volleyball. Not football. Not drama club. Not choir. Jesus.

Jesus calls his followers to more than just morality. We are called to service, fellowship, worship and proclamation. We understand our identity is found in rich community with other believers. We know that following Christ is often following others who have followed for much longer than we have. We know that faith is nurtured in the home, supported by the teaching and example of our greater faith community. We know volleyball can't provide this for Annie.

Yet, as long as morality is our ultimate objective, we parents will strive to keep our kids busy and out of trouble. We would love for them to be more familiar with their Bibles; to serve and worship regularly. We want our young people to be deeper and more mature in their faith. We want our kids to be right with Jesus.

Sadly, there is just no time for that. We have exhausted ourselves keeping our kids moral. As long as no one is drunk or pregnant, we have fulfilled our charge.

Have we really?

DB

Some Thoughts Concerning LOL.

2009-04-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

LOL. Texting shorthand for "laughing outloud."

I have issues with this much used and often abused piece of shorthand.

How many people using the term LOL actually laugh outloud as they type? My guess is 99 out of 100 LOL's are altogether misrepresentative of the typists' actual physiological condition.

Maybe 1 in 20 could honestly say they are "MC" - moderately chuckling? Could this be a more accurate and honest assessment for the reader of said text? Even so, I wager the audible chuckler an exception to the rule at best.

The vast majority of us, 90% or better, are not TAC's (Texting Audible Chucklers). Maybe we smile. Occasionally we mumble a "hmmm" or "heh."

The next time you get a "LOL" from a friend, call them on it. You know they did not LOL. Hold them accountable. The hottest pits of hell are reserved for all the LOL frauds out there.

Don't be one.

DB

Having Lunch with Moses

2009-02-02T12:10:00.000-08:00

So there I was at Costco, eating the $1.50 Coke and hot dog combo...

I was alone; no companion to talk with. To pass the time, I read the labels of my recent purchases. Cheese, coffee, milk. Nothing too exciting about the cheese or coffee. But the milk! The milk...

I skimmed the label (pun intended) to the bottom corner. There I found a familiar text. Hebrew! A word I had never seen. I did, however, recognize the letters. Slowly, I sounded them out:

"Kosher."

Who knew milk could be kosher? But that did not concern me. My immediate interest had little to do with this word, and everything to do with my ability to recognize and interpret it.

I suddenly became very aware of myself. Part of me wanted to stand up and anounce to the crowd "Look, everybody, I can translate this little Hebrew word! Look at me! Aren't you amazed!?" Seriously, how many people at YOUR local Costco can translate Hebrew on a whim?

My pride with this momentous acheivement soon waned. No one seemed to care about my triumph. No one even noticed. And what if they had? Surely some would have been interested in my astute interpretation, if for nothing more than trivia.

Trivia...

I endured three years of seminary. 84 hours of graduate study; 15 dedicated specifically to Greek and Hebrew. And for what good? To enable me to decipher an overlooked branding on a label that apparently only good Jewish people read anyway.

I desire desperately to provide more to the world than mere trivia.

I hated the countless hours of vocabulary memorization and textual translation required of me in seminary. I swore I would never use these skills. After all, I am "just" a youth minister, right? Leave language study to the preachers and missionaries of the world.

And yet, there is something more to these languages than the language itself. Our Old Testament comes to us through ancient Hebrew texts. The language of Moses, David, Solomon. These are my forebears; my family. Their story is my story. My story. Even today, removed by place, time, and language, I am just as much a part of this ongoing narrative.

This is nothing trivial.

To be a child of God, an agent of reconciliation - such a calling is far from trivial. If only I can live into this calling. If only I can instill a love and appreciation for this heritage in the young people with whom I work. If only we can embrace our kinship to the Hebrew people, not as legendary icons, but as gradmothers and grandfathers in our spiritual family tree. From this perspective, there is something uniquely special about reading the language Moses read. To do so is to try on one of my grandafthers favorite jackets; to cook with my grandmothers dutch oven.

My familiarity with the Hebrew language is casual at best. I'm really quite challenged with the Biblical languages. My study had a purpose, to be sure. But for me, the benefit often comes infrequently, catching me off guard as it did today.

As I reflect on my lunch this afternoon, one thought strikes me most profoundly:

Today, though some mystical means, I had lunch with Moses.

DB

(To Doctors Hamilton, Ashlock, Granberg, Willis and Childers: Thank you for your patience with me. Thank you for your grace and mercy. Thank you for enriching my life through language study. Thank you for sharing your faith.)

A Positive Note - Just For Kicks...

2009-01-26T11:53:00.000-08:00

I am often quite negative. Critical for better and worse. How about a positive note today? Just for kicks...

I got paid to play bumper cars with a bunch of teenagers this weekend. It's part of my job.

The day before bumper cars, I met up with one of my students in a local coffee shop. We talked. We enjoyed our time together. We went beyond the time alotted for our conversation and I didn't even notice. If not for my busy schedule, we could have talked for another hour.

The day after bumper cars, I surveyed my students, asking what the best and worst aspects of our Sunday morning Bible study were. The best? One student said he had really learned a lot! The worst? According to another student: having to learn stuff. Not sure why, but that struck me as funny.

I have a great job. I get paid to hang out with teenagers. True, some days I beg my wife to hit me repeatedly in the head with a hammer. Today, however, I am thankful for my lot. I am blessed to work with some pretty cool people, and I love every one of them. Even the kid who "has to learn stuff" in my Sunday morning Bible study...

DB

Here's To "Giving The Finger."

2009-01-12T11:49:00.000-08:00

I try to collect my thoughts and be articulate before blogging. Not this time. Too much I could say - too many directions I could take.

So, for now, let me simply share some statistics I found during my daily study time. Maybe you can flesh this out for me...

In 2007 a major survey was taken among Christians, ages 24-42, asking which of the following behaviors they had engaged in the month before. Here is how they responded:

5% - Gave someone "the finger"
18% - Engaged in sex outside of marriage
24% - Became drunk
25% - Bought a lottery ticket
36% - Used profanity in public
36% - Veiwed sexually explicit material via magazine or movie
40% - Said mean things about others

What am I supposed to do with all this? It would appear ONE in THREE of us struggles in some way or another with sexual impurities. Almost ONE in FIVE indulge this weakness to adultrous proportions.

At the same time, we certainly abhor immoral behavior.

God have mercy on those FIVE out of a HUNDRED who gave someone the finger...

DB

(Go buy the book: Un-Christian: What a New Generation Thinks About Christianity, by David Kinnaman. My stats came from pages 52-54, embedded within a great chapter on Christian hypocrisy. Sorry to all my profs in the GST for improper use of Turabian citation...Ha!)

More Fruit, Please...

2009-01-08T13:41:00.000-08:00

I long to see the fruit of my labor.

If I understand correctly, my job as a minister is to plant and water. Plant and water...plant and water...

God brings the increase; the fruit.

I play a role in this process. I beleive God works through me and others as we continually plant and water. Plant and water...plant and water...

It is nothing I have done to ripen and produce mature fruit. And yet, it is God working through me - as his agent, his "sub-contracted vine dresser" - to facilitate much of this process. Water...Water...Water...

I shared with some friends today my frustration with not always experiencing the fruit of my labor in tangible ways. So often I wonder if my seeds are taking root at all. I yearn for the sight of some plump, juicy fruit. And still, I plant. Plant...

This afternoon I received a message from a former student. I have not talked with this person since I pulled her aside - five years ago - and expressed my concern about some of her life choices. This had been a bold move on my part - I did not know this student very well. She did not like what I had to say, and communicated her disdain for me quite clearly. Much love was lost through that rocky interchange.

So I thought.

Today, this beautiful wife and mother wrote to thank me for pulling her aside that day. Out of nowhere. After all this time. She is a different person now; mature...ripened. Turns out that conversation stuck with her over the years. It's as if it had been "planted" somehow into her subconscience. Planted...

Praise God for moments of grace like these. Thank you, Father, for the sweet succulence of ripened fruit. Thank you for sharing from your table.

More, please...

DB

The Dream Vacation

2009-01-06T06:31:00.000-08:00

Years ago, Caryn and I were inspired by a couple of families who treated their children with special vacations after highschool graduation. The deal was simple: do well in school, honor God through those turbulent years, and during the lull between highschool and college, one of us will accompany you on a vacation anywhere in the world.

I would have loved such an arrangement when I graduated highschool. Mountains are my thing - I would have chosen Switzerland. If money were tight, I could be just as happy visiting the Miami Dolphins' training camp. No need for international travel per se.

Last night as we sat around the dinner table, my wife asked our seven year old daughter where she dreams of going for her special mother and daughter vacation.

"London, England!" she relpied.

This is a no-brainer. My wife and daughter love all those sappy British movies. Jane Austen, Hugh Grant, Collin Firth. There's always tea and crumpets at the Blanchard home.

Frustrated a bit, and hoping for a more adventuresome destination, I turned to my three year old son and asked the same question.

"Mom and sis are going to London for their special vacation. Where should you and I go when you graduate?"

With no hesitation at all, my son nodded, finished chewing his mouthful of corn dog, and replied conifidently:

"Nineveh."

DB

Today I Eat Alone...

2008-12-30T08:57:00.000-08:00

I have been reading much lately about the need for a more relational approach to ministry. More and more I recognize how much of my time is spent in the office - away from my students. I need to spend more time with people.

Today my goal was to track someone down and take them to lunch. I expected this to be easy. I made five phone calls before giving up.

Pom pom practice

Band practice

Plans at the mall

One never returned my call

One simply declined

On a positive note, a did get two solid rain checks and one "Like, ok, totally for sure some other time" in consolation.

Does it really have to be this difficult?

DB

Who Stole Baby Jesus?

2008-12-08T13:33:00.000-08:00

A loving conversation between my sweet wife and our two little criminals, just days ago...

"Alright, WHO stole baby Jesus?"

"Boys, WHERE did baby Jesus go?"

"How many times have I told you to leave baby Jesus in the manger? Hmmm? Just HOW MANY TIMES?!"

"I don't know, mommy, he's just gone..."

"Baby Jesus does NOT just disappear. You better find him, and find him fast!"

Thankfully, baby Jesus has since been located and returned to his rightful location. It's always an adventure in the Blanchard house...

More Connected; Less Connection.

2008-11-26T18:33:00.000-08:00

I am finally learning to communicate through text messages on my cell phone. Wouldn't you know it, a teenager showed me how.

Text messaging provides a whole new medium for communication. I am occasionally in places where I cannot make a call, but now have the option to text. Since most people in my life are also texters, I now have the ability to communicate with them at times and in places where I would have been unable to before.

I feel better connected.

Text messages keep me in touch with my world today. FaceBook connectes me with the world of my past. Through FaceBook I have found friends that I have not heard from in fifteen years or more. Highschool friends, college buddies, ministry colleagues; I am back in touch with dozens of people who have been part of my life.

I feel better connected.

Despite the advances of the last few years, I continually cling to means of connection that have served me well all along. I still check and send e-mail. In fact, for the parents and adults involved in my work, this is one of my best tools for communication.

I have been connected for some time, you see. Now, I am simply better connected.

Or am I?

The other day I found myself in two different text messaging conversations, one right after the other. I had nothing else to do at the time. I was free for conversation, they were too. It would have been great to hear their voices. We spoke only by thumb and keypad.

Both of these friends were from days gone by - people I used to talk with face to face. Back in those days each of these friends had confessed to me their struggles, their sins, their pain. I know them, you see. I know their stories, their past.

Who wants to be reminded of their past?

It is precisely because I know them that our conversation never went deeper than the local weather. Any of us could have dialed our phones and engaged in genuine conversation. We did not. That could have been hard. That may have truned awkward. Better simply to text.

Am I, in reality, becoming disconnected?

I read a friend's post on FaceBook today. A note bemoaning the silence she perceives from all the stagnant faces on her friends list. She herself had written notes, posted messages. She received little in return.

I know the feeling.

FaceBook connects us with almost anyone we could imagine. We can write on walls and send messages to people all over the globe. How rarely they respond. How rarely those conversations go much deeper than our texts, and all for the same reason.

If I don't like what you have to say, I can delete your message. If I don't want to answer your question, I choose to simply ignore your text. This phenomenon is not entirely new - how many years have you ignored or deleted unwanted e-mails?

Are we all becoming disconnected?

Could that really be true? In an age when we are more connected than we have ever been?

It is time we engage people face to face, voice to voice. We need to look into one another's eyes and share our full range of emotion. I need to see your smile as I talk about that funny thing my kid did the other day. I need to sense your compassion as I share with you my deepest fears. I need you to ask me hard questions. You need me to ask those same questions in return. We desperately need to see each other cry.

We have to learn together how to work through conflict. Yes, work through conflict - not simply delete that unwanted message or avoid that uncomfortable text.

We need to be mentored. We need to live and breathe alongside others who are older and wiser than ourselves.

We must practice accountability. We will never bear one another's burdens if we refuse to share them in the first place. Such conversations do not take place via instant messenger.

Discipleship. Accountability. Celebration. All but impossible to acheive in a world that begins and ends with text messages. To be sure, the technology of today allows us all more extensive relations. Proceed with caution: the price we may pay is deeper relationships.

DB

Goodbye, Cascade College.

2008-11-12T13:52:00.000-08:00

I am saddened by the news that Cascade College will be closing next spring. This is not the first time - Columbia Christian closed once before.

I worked with the Eastside Church for five years. We were a stones throw from campus - the college actually met in our auditorium for daily chapel services. I got to know a lot of great people at Cascade College. I sent some of my brightest students there.

I looked in the mirror as I brushed my teeth the other day. There I was in one of my Cascade College t-shirts - a one time advertising peice now turned souvenir. It hurt to realize there would be no more t-shirts to replenish my well-worn supply.

Christian education has had a long history in the Pacific Northwest. Columbia Christian Schools has been nurturing students of all ages for over fifty years. Many of these students have returned to their churches as leaders, ministers, elders, missionaries. More will be needed for our tradition to thrive in the region. Many more will be needed...

As an alum of Oklahoma Christian University, with family and friends in the Northwest, I have a unique perspective on recent events. I sympathize with OC for the terrible decision they were forced into making. I hope all the critics and nay-sayers recognize the many years Oklahoma Christian provided finances, faculty, staff and accredidation necessary to support Cascade College. On the other hand, I greive with my friends and family in the Pacific Northwest for their (our) loss. The Northwest culture is precious and unique. If you have not lived in that region or become part of its fabric, please don't claim to "know how those people feel" right now.

To all affected by this unfortunate closing I will remind you once more: Columbia Christian College was closed once before. God was glorified through Columbia Christian - and the doors eventually closed. Cascade College brought new life, new hope to the region. The college was resurrected - God was glorified once more! This chapter has also come to a close. There are future chapters to be written. God will be glorified.

Do not lose hope.

This is not the end - this is the beginning of a new chapter just waiting to unfold. We serve a God who brings life out of death. We serve a God who thrives on resurrection.

DB

What I Learned From Dan

2008-08-17T19:10:00.000-07:00

I have an incredible job. Tomorrow I am taking a van-load of teenagers out for lunch and a movie. And I'm getting paid to do this...

Fortunately, I am paid to do much more! If ministry was purely recreational I would have quit long ago.

More central to my call is the role of teacher. I love the classroom. I love discussion; communal discernment. I love the moments when I see new and deeper realities grasped by my students. By the grace of God, I am empowered as Minister to teach regularly. God has equipped me for this task and I take the responsibility seriously.

This past Wednesday I had a breakthrough moment. Usually, such moments are characterized by my treatment of a subject leading to a new understanding by my students. This particular moment was just the opposite.

During a discussion about themes from the book of Ephesians, I found myself trying to articulate the difference between a "good" man and a "righteous" man. Usually, I am fairly articulate about such matters. This time, I could not find my bearings.

It's one thing to look in the face of a student who is lost and confused - I do that all the time. It's quite another thing for students to witness uncertainty in the face of their teacher.

There was a period of awkward silence. Everyone waited for their Teacher to provide the answer. The answer did not come...

And then Dan Howard bailed me out.

"A good man is one who understands the difference between right and wrong and chooses to do right most of the time.

A righteous man knows only right. There is no option to do wrong."

Right there, on the spot, in the middle of youth group Bible study, Dan Howard nailed it. I have tried my best to put it in his words, but I promise he stated it better.

And so, the Teacher became the student. One of the great rewards from teaching is occasionally learning something from your students. Dan taught me something that was so simple, yet incredibly deep. Something I will always remember. Thanks, Dan.

DB

Blogging. Really?

2008-08-05T11:39:00.000-07:00

First, let me get this off my chest.

Blogging has always seemed to me a narcissistic endeavor. How egotistical can I be to assume there are others out there who have reason to care about anything I have to say? Blogging is not simply journaling; blogging is for the public domain. To blog is to assume others are interested. To blog is to assume your voice should be heard, nay, broadcast to the global blogging community. Who exactly do I think I am to begin a blog?

I am someone who would prefer to publish my thoughts in the traditional sense of the word. I want to write a book. I want to have something substantive to say. In reality, I want to be heard at the cost of $19.99 per copy. Who's narcissistic now?

Lately I have looked at blogging through different eyes.

My concern with blogging is that it is essentially about me. I write my thoughts, assume they are worth while for you to read, and invite you to come back for more. This is the inherent shortcoming of the blogging enterprise. However, recently I had an experience that challenged my perspective.

I am a youth minister with a smaller church in the Detroit area. I serve a group of roughly twenty in grades 7-12, and I could not ask for a better bunch. Last night we had a devotional at the home of one of our families. All went well. Turnout was good was good, food was good, message was good, everything was good. Toward the end of our time together I made a plea for students to consider joining a leadership council I hope to launch this fall. What started as a commercial quickly evolved into a ranting sermon of sorts.

Where did that come from?

Lately I have been frustrated at the unwillingness of others to listen. Everywhere I go others force their thoughts and opinions on me whether I want them or not. I do my best to listen - to truly care. Unfortunately, most of the time I have the impression those same people have little concern for my thoughts or feelings on similar matters. I end up on the listening end of most conversations, unwilling to advance my ideas in discussions where other parties couldn't care less what I think in return.

I am a minister. It is my job to listen. In fact, I think I am quite good at listening for the most part. My voice does not need to be heard on every matter and that is perfectly fine with me. But there are those times. Sometimes I want a voice in the conversation.

Last night my teens were victim of my need to be heard. Weeks of pent up frustration translated into an abuse of power directed at undeserving parties.

On the drive home it hit me. I need an outlet. Though I fear blogging to be inherently selfish, misuse of power for the sake of pacifying my ego is a far greater evil. Maybe blogging has its place after all.

So there you have it. Call me neurotic. Though I am attempting a blog, I may never be a "blogger". I'm still not sure how to feel about all that. In the mean time, I simply need an outlet. Sure, I could journal privately and avoid my misgivings of a public forum. For the sake of experiment, I am sharing my thoughts with others this time around...

DB