Failed Missions

What decides if a mission is failed? Generally speaking, whenever we set out to do something and the outcome is undesirable or not what were expecting, we tend to label that a fault, or if you're extreme like me, a failed mission.

A girl I knew in a past school was one of these missions. I had met her through connections with other friends, and she was also on my bus to and from the middle school in our neighborhood. She was that certain type of girl- you could tell by looking at her that something wasn't quite right. With my missionary-esque personality, finding people like her is always intriguing because it gives me a excuse to share my faith and friendship with someone who may never receive it anywhere else, so naturally, I started getting to know her right away.

Alexis didn't come to school all the time. One day she would be there, and then intermittently she would disappear for days (and months) at a time. No one ever really knew why she was gone or where she was, and it seemed that only I and the attendance office sensed her absence. I was curious about this so I started sitting with Alexis on the bus home from school.

It could have been a coincidence, the unsettling feel about her and all the school absences, but as in most cases, it was not. I began to discover some about Alexis that I never would have been at liberty to guess just by looking at her.

If I remember correctly, her dad was out of the picture, and she lived with her mom and mom's boyfriend in a small house they couldn't afford. She told tales of abuse and drug misuse in her 'home' as if they were the swingsets, sandboxes, and popsicles we so stereotypically recall from our own childhoods- as if they were the norm she could expect from her everyday life from infantry though adolescence.

Many times I inquired about the role of religion in Alexis's world. See, we tend to get the notion that everyone has heard the story of the Gospel, but she had no clue. She experimented about with witchcraft and the supernatural- and no one knew- and no one tried to stop her. I had no idea what the Wiccan religion was until I met Alexis.

This was not all. Alexis was also confused about sexual orientation- not just hers but the people around her. She honestly didn't know if homosexuality was moral or immoral and had to turn to me to get the non-societal answer. She got herself involved with the wrong kind of boys- all of which were years older than she. She boasted of her indecent relationships, though it was quite obvious that they had no fruit to bear for her wellbeing. Lexi tended to get into trouble with things along those lines, and if people knew anything about her, that was it.

I had gathered all the information I needed; her family status, religion status, relationship status. My mission began.

Alexis didn't have a Bible. She had never heard the stories before. So I started simple, bringing up verses in casual conversation, referencing various beliefs and principles. Gradually, she became interested. I eventually started to bring a small Bible to school (which, now that I think about it, was probably against the rules) and reading to her on the bus home. It seemed to me that she was catching on really fast, and legitimately desired the spiritual nourishment I was feeding her, verse by verse.

Though Lexi seemed to be changing for the better, her home life remained a wreck. Lexi contemplated the pros and cons of running away and living with a distant relative or friend. I didn't know what to do, so I simply offered my home as refuge if she needed a place to stay. Praise God, to my knowledge she never succeeded in carrying out the plan.

Also through the rising action of my ministry Alexis revealed to me that she cut herself. She showed me the proof- the intimidating scars that decorated her arms that she so silently shrouded in a large parka day by day. She confided that she used anything she could find to scar herself physically to escape her mental and emotional grief.

Lexi, who claimed to be improving in both religious and physical states, chopped off all her beautiful, wavy red hair soon after my discovery of her self harm. She said it was for the fashion and for no other reason, but I knew that wasn't it. Months later she began dyeing it bizarre colors and wearing dark, depressing clothing.

Another thing she divulged, as if there was more to divulge (there was), was her taste in music. I listened to a song with her once. I will never forget those words:
Dangle my feet off the edge
Just one more slit in the wrist
Just three more pills
The pain will end soon, yeah

But she only listened to the song because of its infectious beat.

This was it- the climax of my ministry with Alexis. We had been studying and I had been praying for months, and I really saw God working in both of us, helping us to really step out of our comfort and experience metamorphosis into something new, an experience unique for us both.

As the bus pulled up to my street on a sunny spring day, Alexis reached over and stopped me in my tracks. She told me that she wanted me to know how thankful she was for what I was doing for her... And that her boyfriend of fifteen (we were eleven or twelve at the time) had been scaring her with sexual things lately. I warned Alexis about what we had talked about and that if she was under pressure she needed to stand her ground and get out. She agreed and made a pinkie promise that she wouldn't do anything she would later regret.

That was a pretty good week.

A week later, I was walking to my locker before first hour algebra when up shuffled Lexi. She broke down in tears. I translated from a scarcely intelligible murmur in my ear that Alexis had been pressured into sex.

Rather than showing compassion, I flipped. My face went red hot and I completely imploded. I couldn't believe what I had heard. I remember being angry at God. I remember mentally screaming at him all week about how hard I had tried and how far we had come- all for nothing. 

Now we revisit the initial question. What deems a mission a failed one? I thought the ship had sunk because Lexi made a bad choice. But her choice wasn't my fault. I hadn't done anything wrong. Truthfully, one decision doesn't mean Alexis won''t come back around someday. After all, the seeds have been sown.

I know for a fact that there were people who knew and witnessed Jesus that chose not to follow him. Some of his own followers betrayed and denied him. Now that I am older, I do not believe that Jesus would consider those as failed missions.

We can't stop ministering because we are afraid of failure. Yes, treasures are being stored up in Heaven, but the bigger picture is that people can't save themselves. They need to be saved. And no one was saved by the fear of a failed mission.

Oops... I did it again.

When I was going through the moving process recently, I tried to make a point for myself that I was going to be different in my new habitat. I conjured up ways to healthily change my state of mind, and most prominently to change my attitude. It was going well in my little thought sessions on the road, but it got increasingly hard after we had actually arrived. 

So tonight, my family and I went to a lovely party that was being thrown for a young woman who is going away to college this week. I am incredibly awkward in social situations and extremely introverted, so I was cautious and scared of the whole thing. I figured if I just trailed behind my mom the whole time and kept my mouth shut, I would pass what seemed like a test with flying colors. It was going fine for a while, but then the college girl's younger brother came up to me and asked if I wanted a drink.

I don't know why this was so irritating to me at the time, but I was incredibly rude to the poor guy. He walked up and asked if he could take me to get a drink, and I said "No." very snarkily and never even looked up at him. Just going back and reading that sentence makes me feel nauseous. My mom, who saw the whole thing go down, later described his face to me by saying, "It was like you kicked a puppy! His face just fell." 

A detail I forgot to mention about that, it was the second time he asked me.

So then my mom and I were standing around talking with a very sweet lady and she asked me about something, (I don't remember what because I was being stupid), and I just started complaining about all the mosquitoes and how I was going to end up scratching my skin raw. I was being a big baby about little bugs I have been dealing with my whole life.

My stupid mouth and my attitude were cursed for the rest of the party. We had spent most of the day at the lake with church people, and a man asked me how it went. I started on a tangent about how bad the burrs were and how one stuck into my foot and I had to pull it out and then it got stuck in my finger and I was bleeding..... 

Ohhhh I knew at that point that I was in for it. And I was right. I was lectured all the way home. But what I know is that I deserved every word of it. I ruined yet another perfectly good opportunity to make friends, of which I currently have few. I can't just keep saying "oops" and making excuses for my attitude. I need to mature and force myself to step up in awkward situations. 

I have definitely learned this lesson.

The Town Where Nothing Ever Changes

Growing up in a ministry family, I have moved around a lot. More specifically, I have lived among the beautiful coastal areas of Oregon, the dry, hot flatland of Texas, the breathtaking lakes and autumns of Michigan. Anyone who has relocated multiple times sees that there is beauty everywhere. There is also difficulty everywhere.

You may know this town: no one new ever moves in. No one ever moves out. Everything that is is as it has been for years, and it will always be that way. Inconsistency is a joke. There are cliques that have always been cliques and always will be. Families that work in a certain industry will continue to work in that same industry. For generations. Forever.

Nothing ever changes. 

So naturally, to someone who moves into a town like this (once everyone gets past the shock that some family from OUT OF STATE moved in), the stories about how everyone in these same families went to these same schools since the creation of the earth get really old. 

Part of a youth minister's job is to bring healthy change to the young people of the church. When there's no change going in, there's no change going out. Chew on that for a minute.

The town I have described is a good place filled with good people, in fact, home to some of the strongest Christians I have ever known. But we are not called to be good. We are called to have a burning passion for Jesus. We are called to bring change. 

Change is what plants churches. Change is what teaches us to honor our parents, and to be thankful for our blessings. Without change, there would be nothing. 

Take it from someone who knows, and don't be afraid to accept the necessary change that life brings.

And if you ever visit, don't be afraid to step out and take a chance in The Town Where Nothing Ever Changes.