I admit it. I fell into the trap. I was visiting Gordon-Conwell Seminary in the fall of 2004 as a prospective student. A friend took me to one of his classes there and thoroughly sold me on it. "The class is on youth ministry and it is dynamic and interesting." After his sales job I couldn't wait to attend this class. That's when I put my foot in the snare. I began imagining this youth ministry class and foremost in my imagination was the professor, who would be young, relevant, cool, funny, energetic and all of the other words we associate with effective youth leaders. I had a clear vision of this successful youth professor.

I walked into the class and my heart sank. He was old. The guy was a grandpa! To make matters worse he was an Espicopal priest, which is not an issue at all except that he chooses to wear the white clerical collar all the time - what a nerd. The man had grey hair, wrinkles, a clerical collar, glasses and was a scholar.  But I still remember what he taught in that one class over 5 years ago. He spoke at length about the ways he had engaged the Goth culture in his community and ministered and developed deep relationships with those angry, death metal, dark make-up, chains and boots youth. This grandpa-priest was "in" with the Goths. And he knew how to love them. And wanted us to do the same. Professor Dean Borgman forever has my respect.

I had thoroughly judged this man before I ever met him and loaded him with expectations that were not only unfair, but also full of completely false assumptions. Most of us live with the delusion that the primary qualifications of an effective youth minister  are 1) young  2) cool (and really funny)  and  3) physically fit.  But we are faced with a terrible truth - many of our best youth leaders and volunteers never hear the call of God to work with youth because they are  1) older  2) not hip  and  3) don't enjoy playing dodgeball. They've been told in so many ways, "sorry, gramps, you just couldn't pull it off."

Moses was old when God called him. Abraham was 75 when he left his lifetime home. Paul was already well into his ministry when God knocked him on his back and blinded him with a new calling. And then there's Martha. My wife grew up in a youth group where one of the volunteers, Martha, wore Depends. No, seriously, Martha wore Depends and the youth knew it - they would laugh about it together. There's no secret how she could do this - it's because she cared about them. Martha loved them, laughed with and at them and gave her time to them. So they listened and loved and respected in return.Those are qualities that know no age, lingo or fashion.

Our youth in America could use a lot more leaders who are old, nerdy and really effective. 

 The Christian faith has some jaw-dropping claims: that God exists, that he loves us, that Jesus died on a cross and in that God forgives our sins, that Jesus then triumphed over death for us. This is challenging, wonderful, hard to believe and awe-inspiring all at the same time.

But one of the most incredible parts of the Christian faith is what we call the Incarnation. In-carne. In-the-flesh. That God - the eternal maker of the universe, without body, spirit, time, or blemish - God came to us as a human. The gospel of John says it best in chapter 1 by stating, "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Literally it means God pitched a tent among us. He "tabernacled" among us, as the ancient Israelites would have heard it. The Creator enters into creation! God gave up his throne to be with us in the mud, in the blood and in the laughter and death of human existence. Or rather, in Jesus we realize that God's throne always has been with humans, nearer to us than we ever knew. God's presence, love and forgiveness there right in front of our eyes. God revealing himself as the man Jesus of Nazareth is a turning point for the universe.

I am thinking about this because of Haiti. If I allow myself to think about it for any length of time, I start to feel sick. I am overwhelmed at the thought that long after my attention and sympathy fade, those brothers and sisters will still be cloaked in a shroud of tragedy - dealing with loss on a scale that we can hardly fathom. The Bible reveals that God's anger can reach into human history with power and terror. But more often it promotes another truth: that at the very moment when it seems God has most abandoned us, he is most near to us. It may be the most difficult thing to believe in the Christian faith. But there it is: while we were yet sinners, marching and trudging along in the rutted, blood-soaked path of human history, while we were crying out for liberation, for healing and while we had given up - God sent his only Son to us. He took on flesh for us, that even in the pitch-blackness of tragedy we can see that Light which flickers within reach of our shivering, outstretched hands. 

I have had justice on my mind. Right now I am teaching a 6-part class titled "Justice: God's Passion; Our Calling." I was thinking about it for a long time after class last night. There are so many difficult questions regarding how to do justice. How can I help? Is it really worth all the trouble? Nothing is perfect, so who am I to pretend to know what's right?

These are good questions with which to wrestle deeply and intensely. And in the process they sometimes knock the wind out of us. But as we studied what the Bible has to say about God and justice I was left with an overwhelming conviction. That our part in seeking justice is not an option. It may be painfully complex, difficult and unsure. But it is not optional. Seeking to create systems and communities and individuals (beginning with ourselves) that promote human flourishing is not a special calling for certain Christians. It is for each and everyone of us if we are to call ourselves followers of God.

Martin Luther King, Jr. sought justice. Mother Theresa sought  justice. They did it in completely different ways - one through organized and systemic change to promote equality and liberty under the law, the other through mercy and comfort for the outcast and dying. This struck me last night as a stunning example that our quest for joining God in doing justice may take many different forms. It will be as individual as each believer. But it will be there. Let us pray that it will be there.

Blogs can be great. They can be a little devotional for the day, an intense time of intellectual wrestling, a profound story. But the one thing we have not had yet is discussion. So as you begin signing on to The Presby, be sure to add your questions and thoughts about what you read in these pages. Give your ratings to things.

Be appropriate. Be funny. Be thought-provoking. The idea is to engage on The Presby blogs. I look forward to reading your thoughts.

Food for thought:

The Ohio Supreme Court recently ruled that church regional offices are not exempt from property taxes. So what? Well they voted that way because although the administrative offices of church denominations are used to support public worship, public worship does not qualify as a "charitable activity." 

Now churches could become very upset at this kind of ruling. And there would be some reason, I think, to be disappointed. But maybe we should see the problem not in the court but in our worship. Worship in the Bible changes people. It encourages people to radically love their neighbor in the name of God. It brings people on their knees in praise, in repentance and in hope. So why is it that when we come together and worship people don't recognize it as "charity"? The Bible doesn't accept a separation between our charity and our worship. Do we? So how could we change our Sunday mornings in such a way that the world would not doubt that our public worship was an act of great love that spurred us to incredible charity? How could our charity and worship become one? That worship was an indispensible part of love. And love was an indispensible part of worship.