In January 2009, I jumped headfirst into a position with which I had no experience and no understanding of the time and emotional demands. I became a youth director.

I knew it was what I was supposed to do. I guess you could say I got bit by the “youth bug” in the summer of 2008 on a mission trip to Washington, D.C., with our former church. I had never been on a mission trip, and have to admit I chose this one mostly because of the destination. I had been to D.C. before, but it had been 16 years. My husband, who had never been to D.C. also was going on the trip. I selfishly refused to stay home while he went to D.C. and signed up. While there were challenges to the trip, I found it extremely rewarding and came back pumped to work with the youth. The first Sunday my husband and I returned to our new church after the trip, we marched right up to the associate pastor and informed him we were ready to work with the youth group.

At first, I sat back and observed. The current youth workers told me all their names, but that information lasted in my brain about 30 seconds. Since our first encounter with this group was a pool party, the youth themselves pretty much ignored us. For the most part, we did not interact with them. Intimidated.

The next meeting was pretty much the same, minus the pool. I sat back and watched as they planned to film a commercial to promote a backpack drive they were sponsoring. I watched as jobs were doled out, not knowing at the time the jobs were assigned to people who would not follow through. I still did not remember their names, though some were beginning to stick a little longer than 30 seconds. Maybe 90 seconds this week.

All this built up to the disaster that hit the following week. We (my husband and I) were left alone with a group of teenagers we had known only three weeks!! We were excited about watching them film a commercial. We couldn’t wait to see the written script and watch the teens direct themselves to create something fantastic, but where were the other youth leaders? Surely they did not leave us alone with these kids already? What were we suppose to do with them? We had no idea how to film a commercial! Nevertheless, that was exactly what was happening. We were alone.

So after an hour and a half of trying to film a commercial with no script, no direction, and no idea what the kids’ names were, we finally got it done. Frustrated and angry, this night began my months of complaining every Wednesday night.

There were meetings. What do we want to do? What curriculum do we want to use? There was little communication:
“I have class on Wednesdays and I will be unable to lead for a few months.” 
“I am going to start a Bible study outside the youth group for my son and his friends. I will be back when it is done.”

Neither happened. The associate pastor and another adult came up, and the four of us (my husband, the pastor, another adult and me) began. One of the first lessons was for the kids to write down what they would like to do that year in youth group. There was the usual lock-ins and other fun stuff, but they also wanted to serve and have lessons that related to where they were in their lives. We proudly posted these things around the youth room to remind us of what the kids wanted to do. Still, there was nothing. Lessons were a disaster with kids talking over the adults. The kids fought and argued with each other. Some cut each other to the core with their words and actions. Because I still was getting to know the kids, anything I said carried no weight whatsoever. There was a lack of consistency among the four adults as our personal lives sometimes took us away from the youth for brief stints. More frustration. More complaining on Wednesday nights after youth group. Yet, I was waiting for the other youth leaders who were “taking a break” to return. I desperately wanted to take over, but waited out of respect for them. They had been at it longer. They had more experience. Surely they were better at leading the group than I could ever be.

By December, I was frustrated; and my husband was tired of hearing me complain. I set up a time to meet with the pastors and informed them of my intention.  I wanted to be the youth director. Did I have any experience? No, but I had taught for six years and four of them had been with junior and senior high school kids. Why did I want to do this? Well, if complaining every Wednesday night and being completely dissatisfied with the way the youth group has been treated and run is not a call from God, then I don’t know what is. Could I commit to a year? Sure (though that answer was a bit hesitant). Could I do it without pay? No problem, I have been for the last few months. No big deal! So I thought.

Let me begin this paragraph by saying I had no comprehension of the challenges of being a youth director. My first order of business was to get a letter sent home about the upcoming mission trip in the summer. The pastor had set the goal for 30 participants. I spent three days just photocopying letters and stuffing envelopes. This did not include the time spent planning lessons, making sure we had enough adults, and sorting through things. On the positive side, I had stopped complaining on Wednesday nights. Who wants to complain about themselves?

After getting out the mission trip letters, there was the task of getting a 30-Hour Famine up and running. While the kids assured me this was what they wanted to do, I struggled to get the help I needed from them. I quickly was learning their idea of getting things done was for me to do most of the work. We had approximately 2,900 crosses to put in the ground in front of the church. While everyone thought the message was great, no one wanted to help put them up.  Frustration.

So between me, my husband, our two children (who are not even old enough for youth group) and three other youth members, we got a majority of the crosses up one afternoon. Another night, a few more helpers came out, including a couple of moms and a couple more youth members. We came close to having all the crosses up. Still, not until one of the pastors got involved was the job done.

Failure one (in my eyes). Why couldn’t I motivate them to do it? Then, as we found ourselves speeding along through spring, every day closer to the famine and Youth Sunday, I realized there was no way we would be ready. I still was struggling to get help from the kids. Failure two. What is wrong with me? I have no choice to postpone. By this time, I was convinced in my mind that people were criticizing me, especially the youth leaders who had left in the fall.  Failure three.

But there was a glimmer of hope. While discussing why we would be postponing in a meeting, one of the kids pointed out that while everyone is quick to complain about what I am doing, they are not stepping up to help. Score one?

Despite all the struggles, I love my volunteer job. Sure, the famine flopped. I had kids being disrespectful in every way. They complained. They told off adults.  They got testy with each other. They blatantly broke the rules.

What did I learn? A LOT!  But you know what? When those kids succeed, I get to witness their excitement. When I come in in a bad mood, they cheer me up. Not because of anything they intentionally do, but because I just enjoy them. I just enjoy them.

Now, as I sit here on the finished side of the famine, Youth Sunday and mission trip (we did not get 30 by the way), I am excited about the fall kicking off soon. While I have a lot of failures under my belt, I have a lot of successes, as well. So maybe we did not get 30 on the mission trip, but the 10 who went had a life-changing experience. I hope to use those 10 as a core group within the large one to help transform some of the day-to-day challenges we face. While time was a huge challenge for me, especially in April and May when I was working full time and could not squeeze out a second to work on youth group, I have re-set my priorities for the fall.

What’s first? Youth group. It will take a lot of time, but I’m going to have time to give. I’m going to have time to plan the service projects and roll up my sleeves and get dirty with them. I’m going to have time to give them they lessons they demand and deserve. I’m going to have time to enjoy them. I’m going to have time to support them. And when they challenge me with the crazy teenage things they get into, I’m going to have time for that, too. The first year has been a struggle, but I’m ready to go again. My time could not be better spent!