There's a question I carry around with me in my binder, because it gnaws at me and constantly challenges me to refine and reshape what I do. I think if all churches focused on this question when it came to ministering to children, we'd spend our time - and the kids' time - a lot better than we do. I think we'd stop focusing on having kids jump through hoops and "majoring in the minors." We'd certainly start measuring our success differently, which would in turn affect the product we turned out.
The question is this: What is the best tangible benefit a kid can take away from involvement in our programs?
It's a question I need to keep coming back to because I am satisfied with the wrong things. When someone asks me "how did it go?", I am inclined to respond in terms of the turnout, or the efficiency of the execution, or whether or not someone got hurt, or whether or not a parent complained, or whether the program came off flawlessly, or whether or not I had to deal with discipline issues, or whether the room was set up just right. And the truth is, those things mean just about zip to the average kid.
The question is this: What is the best tangible benefit a kid can take away from involvement in our programs?
It's a question I need to keep coming back to because I am satisfied with the wrong things. When someone asks me "how did it go?", I am inclined to respond in terms of the turnout, or the efficiency of the execution, or whether or not someone got hurt, or whether or not a parent complained, or whether the program came off flawlessly, or whether or not I had to deal with discipline issues, or whether the room was set up just right. And the truth is, those things mean just about zip to the average kid.
When a kid leaves the room, they care if they were bored and they care if anyone talked to them and they care if they were made to feel important and they care that they had a good time. So, many of the marks of "success" are just pretty meaningless:
"The room was full." What is full? Double the room size and your crowd would have seemed tiny. Or, cut the room in half and you can all feel like you're in a crowded space. "Fullness" has no meaning.
"Everything went smoothly." Well, so what? Most organizational details are invisible to a kid, even though it makes us feel better to know there were enough nametags and the money came out just right and we started and ended exactly on time. The sun in kid world doesn't rise and set on such things.
"I felt good about it." Some nights put me on a high. Others make me feel low and empty. So what? The elements of a program that drive my feelings are far from those that help a kid make up his mind whether what he just came through was important or irrelevant, meaningful or boring, a future draw or something to avoid. Looks lie, and if we adults are honest, we would admit that aesthetic factors - usually the noise level - exercise greater influence on our perception of success than they ought to.
That too few kids showed up or that the music didn't cue at the right time or that we ran out of snacks or that the kids laughed during a part of the message that wasn't intended to be funny or that we dismissed 10 minutes late really hardly matters more than a week after it happens. What does matter begins with the experience of the kid and ends at how truly God was represented through the event (or class or encounter or project).
What is the reason we minister? For the kids or for us? If it is "because we love kids" then our programs can become so child-centered that the kids' total satisfaction becomes our utmost pursuit: McMinistry. Yet an efficient program can drive us to the other extreme, where kids' needs are disregarded - and I've seen that happen, too. Then "The Program" becomes an end in itself - and it might well be spiritual, but it doesn't constitute good ministry to kids. Good ministry happens when God is glorified and kids experience this in a meaningful way. By "meaningful" I mean that the experience translates - kids are understanding what they're learning and it affects them beyond the classroom door.
That integration is usually beyond the scope of the "programmed" aspects of church. Unlike adults, who can be "fed" simply by listening to a half-hour sermon, kids learn differently. I've found that in teaching kids, it's very hard - almost useless - to "make a point" expecting kids to absorb your own understanding. Kids need to figure out how new information fits with what they already know and have experienced. They need dialogue. They need to ask and answer questions. That's why we teach very interactively in our class. But what we do from the front isn't enough.
"The room was full." What is full? Double the room size and your crowd would have seemed tiny. Or, cut the room in half and you can all feel like you're in a crowded space. "Fullness" has no meaning.
"Everything went smoothly." Well, so what? Most organizational details are invisible to a kid, even though it makes us feel better to know there were enough nametags and the money came out just right and we started and ended exactly on time. The sun in kid world doesn't rise and set on such things.
"I felt good about it." Some nights put me on a high. Others make me feel low and empty. So what? The elements of a program that drive my feelings are far from those that help a kid make up his mind whether what he just came through was important or irrelevant, meaningful or boring, a future draw or something to avoid. Looks lie, and if we adults are honest, we would admit that aesthetic factors - usually the noise level - exercise greater influence on our perception of success than they ought to.
That too few kids showed up or that the music didn't cue at the right time or that we ran out of snacks or that the kids laughed during a part of the message that wasn't intended to be funny or that we dismissed 10 minutes late really hardly matters more than a week after it happens. What does matter begins with the experience of the kid and ends at how truly God was represented through the event (or class or encounter or project).
What is the reason we minister? For the kids or for us? If it is "because we love kids" then our programs can become so child-centered that the kids' total satisfaction becomes our utmost pursuit: McMinistry. Yet an efficient program can drive us to the other extreme, where kids' needs are disregarded - and I've seen that happen, too. Then "The Program" becomes an end in itself - and it might well be spiritual, but it doesn't constitute good ministry to kids. Good ministry happens when God is glorified and kids experience this in a meaningful way. By "meaningful" I mean that the experience translates - kids are understanding what they're learning and it affects them beyond the classroom door.
That integration is usually beyond the scope of the "programmed" aspects of church. Unlike adults, who can be "fed" simply by listening to a half-hour sermon, kids learn differently. I've found that in teaching kids, it's very hard - almost useless - to "make a point" expecting kids to absorb your own understanding. Kids need to figure out how new information fits with what they already know and have experienced. They need dialogue. They need to ask and answer questions. That's why we teach very interactively in our class. But what we do from the front isn't enough.
This process of kids restating and re-formulating and coming up with their own examples and thinking about - all of this takes time. It also takes personal attention. It's one of the reasons we started sending the HomePage last year at this time, not only to keep parents up to speed about what we're learning, but to keep the kids thinking. But in our rooms, we're far from giving personal attention some weeks - with 8, 9, 10 or more kids assigned to one leader, it's all that leader can do to give each kid even one minute of undivided attention. That's a problem.
The other problem with programs is that they don't care. Despite the fact that every kid arrives having different home issues, parenting situations, life experiences, learning styles, interests and values, programs mash them all together so that they become "the kids". But they're not "the kids" - there's this one, and that one, and the next one, each distinct from the other and each who will forge their own journey of faith. Come and look at our "School Wall" sometime and ask, as I do, "Who's investing in that kid right there?" and "Does anyone know what's going on with her?" and "How is she doing?" and "Does this make any sense to him?"
Programs happen at a moment in time. But lives are lived out constantly. Whatever effect a talk or a night or a weekend or a sleepover may have had when it happened, the better question is, what effect is it having still? We don't make a difference with kids by what's already past. We make a difference by the ongoing work of Jesus in their lives.
And all of this begins with kids becoming known individually within our ministry. You can join us. We are always looking for caring souls who want to make an impact on preteens. There are five qualities we look for in a volunteer: are they caring, loving, playful, patient, and committed? If that's you, maybe you should be on our team. Our next no-obligation orientation night is Tuesday, January 29. Come and hear more about our vision: the Biggest Dreams, the Best Discipleship, and Most Care. With every soldier we add to the ranks, we move away from being just another program and toward being a church that cares, personally and deeply, for kids. I'll take that over slick programming any day.
