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The entire
summer before I went away to college, my mother made me go
to the basement and practice ironing my shirts. This was back
in the day when mothers ... at least my mother ... ironed
everything including tee shirts and shorts. If I ever had
to be rushed to the hospital and have my clothes cut from
my body in the Emergency Room, when the attendants got down
to my underwear, they would find me not only clean, but pressed.
To be sure,
fabrics were different then ... styles were different then
... and standards were different then. Words like “baggy,”
“rumpled,” and “grunge” had not yet become part of the
fashion scene ... even the collegiate fashion scene. Go back
to college yearbooks in 1958 and see how “pressed” everybody
looked. In my early years at Albion, we had to wear coats
and ties to the dining room for Wednesday supper and Sunday
dinner. This practice carried over to the fraternity house.
Like all fraternities, our house had its share of “animals.”
But, in those years, they were very well-groomed animals.
It fascinates
me that, in the summer of 1958, my mother’s greatest concern
about my collegiate readiness was whether I could iron a shirt.
Apparently, she felt no reason to worry herself over my study
habits, my behavior quirks or my character flaws. Neither
did she agonize over the temptations and dangers I would encounter
at Albion, once I got there. She merely wanted me to look
good.
Which I did.
But not because of my ironing. To this day, I can still iron
a shirt. Although I ironed my last shirt on or about September
17, 1958. After wearing and dirtying a week’s worth of shirts,
I went down to the bowels of the building where I lived, thrust
my quarters into the washer, surrendered my dimes to the dryer,
and commenced to iron shirt number one. Which took twenty
minutes. When the second and third shirt filled out the rest
of the hour, a light came on in my pea-sized freshman brain.
Which was the precise moment I discovered crew neck sweaters.
With a sweater, all I needed to do was keep my collars clean.
And as for dress shirts, I discovered that the Home Laundry
(down at the end of Erie Street) would do five shirts for
a dollar. Even though I was dirt poor at the time, I could
occasionally come up with a dollar. Which was a lesson well-learned.
Today, even though I am not terribly domestic, I know where
to take my shirts. Which I do. Weekly. On my own. All by myself.
I tell you
this for two reasons. First, to illustrate the fact that mothers
have always been concerned that their off-spring be well-prepared
to enter what is sometimes called “the real world.” Second,
to illustrate just how much the “real world” has changed since
1958. Were I to gather all the mothers of teenagers and ask
how many sleepless nights you have recently experienced worrying
over wrinkles (not yours, but your teenager’s) you’d
laugh me right out of the room. Not that you don’t care how
your kids look. You do. But when measured against how your
kids act ... what your kids think ... where your kids go ...
who your kids go with ... and the degree to which your kids
can be influenced to a point that will override rules, conscience
and self-discipline ... you’ll bend to the point of breaking
when it comes to matters of their clothing. Whether it looks
good is secondary to whether it covers up ... or, more important
still, to whether it stays on.
After reading
this morning’s sermon title, Roger Wittrup sent me a wonderful
e-mail entitled, “What to teach your kids before they leave
home.” It also carried the subtitle “Wouldn’t it be wonderful
if every 18-year-old could do the following?” It listed domestic
skills, like cooking a full breakfast, sewing on a missing
button and running a proper load of wash. Which was followed
by a list of physical skills (like swimming half a mile and
riding a bike with confidence), handyman skills (including
the proper use and maintenance of tools), and practical skills
(largely centering on the functions of automobiles and computers).
The list
went on to address wonderful things like reading and folding
a map ... knowing what to do if stranded in a bad neighborhood
... carrying on a fifteen- minute conversation with an adult
you don’t know ... balancing a checkbook (by hand or on line)
... maintaining an address book, keeping an appointment calendar,
and learning a game that can be played for life (like bridge
or golf) ... practicing basic first aid, CPR and the Heimlich
maneuver (given that the life you save may be that of your
mother or father).…typing with two hands ... caring for a
dog ... entertaining a small child for a minimum of six hours
... and telling a joke so that everybody gets it.
It was a
wonderful list. But it was far from an inclusive list. For
while all of those things can ease one’s transition into adulthood,
they have more to do with ability than maturity. When we cry
(in anguished frustration) to someone we love “Will you ever
grow up?”, we are talking about more than map-reading and
checkbook-balancing. Instead, we are talking about the kind
of person they haven’t become, the kind of character they
haven’t developed, and the kinds of responsibilities they
haven’t assumed.
“Train a
child in the way children should go,” says the Bible, “and
they will not depart from it.” Are we talking about the use
of an iron, the folding of a map, or the ins and outs of a
checkbook? Well, yes ... sort of. Don’t knock such things
until you’ve seen a few kids who have grown up without having
been taught such things. Irons are good. Roadmaps are good.
Checkbooks are good. Why? Because looking good is good ...
finding your way is good ... and being able to pay your way
... that’s good, too. But what else? Well, there’s a lot “else.”
But I can’t cover it all here. So let me start with this.
Teach them
that the good life is more than the sweet life. They already
have the sweet life. They already like the sweet life. They
already assume the sweet life. But the good life is more than
the sweet life. The good life is the moral life ... the ethical
life ... the Jesus-serving, neighbor-loving, world-embracing,
enemy-reconciling, let-go-of-the-self-in-order-to-gain-the-self-back
life. Which is what we call the Christian life.
Just the
other day, I read a line that I have not been able to shake
from my brain. It came via a Christian Century article
on Youth Ministry and quoted youth leader Mike Yaconelli.
Mike lamented that one problem in Youth Ministry is the relatively
low number of parents who place faith development as a high
priority for their children. So what’s new? People were saying
that when I was in Youth Ministry. I was saying that when
I was in Youth ministry. I’ve heard Matt say it. I’ve heard
Jeremy say it. I’ve even heard Chris Hall say it. So what
else is new?
What was
new is Mike Yaconelli’s next line. Let me lay it on you:
Today’s parents are very much
in favor of Christianity as long as they think it is going
to make their kid into a nice person. But as soon as it
becomes genuine Christian faith, they start to worry. That’s
because this generation of parents is very ambitious for
their children and doesn’t want anything to get in the way
of their future success.
Which returns
me to my earlier word of counsel: “Teach them, by precept
and example, that the good life is more ... ever-so-much-more
... than the sweet life.” I think you know the difference.
But if you don’t, give yourself the following test. Listen
to yourself talking with your friends. Hear yourself say:
“My son is really doing well.” or “My daughter is really doing
well.” Then ask what you hear yourself saying next (in describing
what you mean by “well”).
Second (and
this is only a two-point sermon), show them that the church
represents the best-possible crucible in which lives can be
formed, faith can be developed, friends can be found, life-styles
can be practiced and decisions can be made.
Now I know
that I’ve just caused your eyes to glaze over because you
think that I am supposed to say what I just said. After all,
I’m a preacher. Which enables you to discount my point ...
and discount me ... because I’m being predictable. So let
me step aside and let somebody else say it. That “somebody
else” being Jim Balmer of Dawn Farm ... a wonderful, residential
recovery program for addicted teens. Jim was here last Sunday
night to talk to our parents and kids. He brought some Dawn
Farm kids with him. This was not his first visit to us, but
his third. Meaning that we like Jim, and “in the midst of
near-epidemic deafness in this arena”, we’ll hear him
out.
The discussion
was animated ... the questions tough ... the responses honest
... the truth, hard to digest. As much as every parent in
the room longed to hear a single answer, Jim said that there
are no simple answers that will keep young people from avoiding
the temptation, the thrill, the peer pressure or the addictive
rip (once hooked) or all the mood-altering substances available
in today's youth culture.
He talked
about the successes of AA, explaining that AA works because
it takes the addict’s focus off of self ... because it is
built on faith ... and because it offers a deep experience
of community. Following which, he said, “To some degree, those
rehabilitative factors can also work as preventative measures”
... adding ... “You at First Church are already well-ahead
of the deadly drug game when it comes to your kids.
Why? Because you already have faith and community at work
here (in your kids’ lives now.)” “It matters.” he said.
“It really matters.”
Well, I think
it does. In lots of ways. For lots of reasons. Is it automatic?
No. Do we offer written guarantees? No. Is it statistically
demonstrable? It seems so. Is there a better horse to bet
on? I haven’t found one.
Lyle Schaller
writes:
What churches do people join?
They join churches that answer their most pressing questions.
And for people born since 1955, the most pressing question
is not: “What denominational label is on the sign out front?”
Instead, the most pressing concern is: “Can you help me
find meaning in my life?” And the second, right behind it:
“Can you help me raise my children?”
Churches
have always answered yes to both ... especially the second.
Clearly, my childhood church helped my mother raise me. A
lot of you had churches that helped your mothers raise you.
But over the years, churches have slipped in that regard.
Not intentionally. Indeed, rather accidentally. But unfortunately,
lamentively.
Our church
(meaning this church ... meaning First Church) has had a long
history of good stuff preparing some kids. When I got here,
I found some very hard-working people involved in Christian-formation
ministries. I am talking Sunday School teachers, youth leaders,
those sorts of folks. But I also found smallish numbers of
a sagging morale and a dirth of innovative programs. I found
one minister giving half-time to youth, one person giving
full-time to children and one Christian Educator giving full-time
to children. And one secretary giving twenty hours to support
those two. I also found a beautiful sanctuary, chapel, parlors
and Fellowship Hall. But I found an incredible number of Sunday
School rooms with walls, floors and furnishings that had not
been updated in twenty-five years. In terms of Family Ministry,
the best things I saw were the remnants of some young-mothers
study groups started by Mildred Thomas. But Mildred died this
year, at the age of 97. You do the math.
Today, there
are six and a half full-time-equivalent staff members working
with children and youth not to mention a trio of additional
staffers involved in Adult Education. Every children’s room
in this building has been redone and refurnished in the last
five years. A beautiful new playground has been constructed.
A bevy of new programs have been launched. A fresh round of
parenting groups (for mothers with very little children)
have begun. A dual-Confirmation process has been designed,
involving both sixth graders and parents. And time would fail
me, were I not to tell you about P. J.’s Diner, youth
work camps in Detroit and Memphis, or Jeremy’s wonderfully-imaginative
Puppy Ministry.
Does any
of it guarantee anything? Of course it doesn’t. Would anybody
like to roll it back? I would be truly surprised. Hopefully,
we are on the brink of funding and building a new Christian
Life Center. It would be short-sighted, deceptive and just
plain wrong to assume that it is only for children and youth.
All of us will work there, play there, study there, worship
there, eat there, walk fifteen-laps-to-the-mile there and
do ever so much more there. But our kids programs (which are
booming and burgeoning) will have room to sweat and bloom
there. The construction of this new building will speak volumes
to kids and parents for miles around. Many who use it will
know why they are there. Others will start out by hanging
out. But most of the followers of Jesus started out the same
way. By hanging out, I mean.
- Teach them the good life is
more than the sweet life.
- Show them that the church
is for them.
Two points.
Kept by two quotes.
The first
from Mary June Wilkinson who, in speaking to the amount of
money that will be required, recently said to me: “It looks
as if Bill and I will be spending another chunk of our childrens’
inheritance. Which is all right, given that the thing
we most want them to inherit is the church.”
The second
from Drew Priest-Grochowski. Drew is the sixth-grade son of
Nanci Priest and Rod Quainton. He is also a current member
of our seventy-kid Confirmation class. Most every day Drew
shows up about 4 o’clock to shoot baskets in our present (undersized)
Youth Center. Take a look at the ceiling. I would guess that
a third of the marks are from Drew. The other night when his
parents came home and told him about the plans for the building,
he disappeared momentarily into his room. After rummaging
around in whatever secret hiding places are known only to
sixth-grade boys, he returned with a twenty-dollar bill and
said: “Give them this from me.”
Well, what
are we going to do? We could use it to buy a basketball. Or
we could use it to buy an iron. My vote is for the basketball.
Hopefully, my mother’s is, too.
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