You Can't Make Old Friends

I've been living in the past this week. It started because I was looking for a letter from my youth pastor who just retired, but it became a lot more than that. I have these boxes of things. I made one when I was seven out of a box from a gift for my sister's baby shower. I put in these special things that I liked and then it just kept on adding stuff that I wanted to keep.

Some of it is dumb. But there are ribbons and awards I won, mementos from trips and days in Bible quiz. Little cards and name tags from events I attended. Some of it's more meaningful like mementos from vacations or things friends gave me. At first that box had all of the cards and letters I'd received, but by the time I was twelve I needed a different box for those. So I have a second box full of messages from friends through the years. It was fun looking through that one. With the youth pastor on my mind, I got to thinking about youth group days.
It's been twenty years since I was in the thick of high school. My life was pretty simple, but I didn't have a lot of friends and I didn't ever feel like I really fit in. But on Sunday when I was reunited with some of the kids I went to youth group with, who I've only seen a couple of times since we all graduated, it was something special. We ALL were kids who felt like we didn't fit in, but we all found a place in that group. Several of us had the same story. We were disillusioned and ready to give up on church, but visiting that group changed it. We felt lonely and overlooked but someone in that group noticed and acknowledged it. We've all moved on into family life and grown up, but we stood around the tables looking at pictures of our high school selves (and admired how good our hair looks now compared to then), and I think for those few hours, we all were back in the walls of that youth room, thinking about all of the zany adventures we had together, missing the people who weren't there, wondering how everyone turned out, appreciating Pastor Mark together.
It was like a class reunion, except without the pressure of having to feel successful and look good. We could just be, and that felt really good.
Since then I've been thinking about things I'd nearly forgotten. Cold bus rides at the break of dawn for a community service project. Sneaking out of my dorm with Meredith to go see Emily. Staying up all night on a retreat when all of the leaders decided to stay in the other cabin. Talking all night with Jess on her bunk bed and playing cards until the literal break of dawn, at which time the guys decided to storm our cabin with the PA system playing Mission Impossible. Sitting on the bus in Mexico with two other friends and making up ridiculous stories about spider spies and tomatoes taking over the world. Standing on stage and singing with good friends. My best friend Rachel and I building playdoh worlds together. Sitting crammed together in a stairwell that echoed and singing a Capella harmonies to God. Canoeing together and campfires where we washed each others' feet. Trips down to the prison to lead worship in the chapel services. So many, many memories.

I wore a vintage youth group shirt from our Mexico Trip. D's is from another trip he was on in 8th grade.

Being together reminded me. It's good to be in a place where there aren't any regrets, where the mistakes of the past are buried, and what's left are really good memories. There isn't a great way to describe it except that
it's a kind of love that we were bound together by. We loved each other and our leaders, but more than that we loved God and were doing what we could to serve him together.
It was a chance to thank each other for things and to say words that we couldn't say as insecure teenagers. A lot of friends were missing, and some of them have passed away. But I think they were on all of our minds. And even without them there, our relationships are cemented.  One of my favorite songs explains it best:

Would you take me back to when we were kids
who weren't scared of getting older
cuz no one knows you like they know you and no one probably ever will
you can grow up
make new ones
but the truth is there's nothing like old friends.
And you can't make old friends.

-- Ben Rector "Old Friends" (Watch the video; it's awesome)

Counselor, Pastor, Friend

I was a church refugee in 1997. We'd left a church we'd been at for ten years and I was lonely and tired and had lots of questions about God. The first week we came to NCBC, I knew it was the place for us. There were other kids who talked to us and several of the youth leaders made sure to introduce themselves to us. The teaching was by this guy who was talking about creation and evolution and did it in such an interesting way. There were students leading worship and giving announcements in front of the group like they wanted to be there. My brother and I were both pretty excited about the whole thing. In fact, my whole family was excited about the church.

My brother was an outgoing guy and he'd brought along a couple of friends to the church with him, so he had no trouble slipping in and being part of the group right away. It was slower for me, but I never felt completely isolated because the youth pastor was making an effort to include everyone. He did in a personal way. One of the first weeks there, he invited me to go on the summer trip with them, and he went and got me an application to take home with me. Another one of the first weeks there, they were having a graduation party for all of the seniors. I planned to sit in the car for the duration since I didn't know anyone, but he actually came out to find me and make sure I knew I was welcome. (I did end up going in too).

There was a death in the group one of the first Wednesdays we visited, and seeing how that affected all of them showed me a kind of unity that had been missing at the last church. At the last church, I'd felt like one of the only kids who'd cared about Jesus. I'd been excluded, quite intentionally, quite often. I'd learned to make myself invisible there, and at school and at home too. But at this new church, with this new pastor who seemed to notice everyone, I had hope that it would be different.

And it was. So very different.

As the years went on, I found a place I belonged. I made friends with a few people, took chances to serve at the church and in the group. I even ended up leading a worship band at the end. I attended camping trips, missions trips, retreats, overnights, and as many Sundays and Wednesdays as I could. I found like-minded people, some of whom I even went to school with. The way the group was set up gave us a chance to get to know each other in smaller groups each week, and we had a chance to tell stories to each other also. It was that way because Mark had decided to make it "everyone's youth group" instead of just his.

There was a puzzle that they had out on a table most weeks and they took it on retreats. When it got completed, they'd hang it up for everyone to see under a sign that said, "Each Person Plays a Part" or something along those lines. It was a reminder that everyone in the group was a valuable member. I was in that group for three years and I grew so much in that time. Everyone grows in high school, but there were things i learned there that I wouldn't have had a chance to learn in other places. About servant leadership, about humility, about reaching out into the community and about worship. There were a lot of wonderful adults that built into my life, but I think the pastor and his wife knew me best. And I think most of what I learned was because he modeled it for all of us with his own life. He wasn't a "Do what I say, not what I do" kind of guy. He was (and is) more of a "Do what I do because that's what Jesus does" kind of guy.

It was because of him that I met my future husband. Wanting to encourage the missionary kid in Russia, he gave us all D's email address to write to him. I did, and we connected through email for a few months until he got home. Then, we spent a fun summer together doing youth group activities like a musical, a canoe trip, and Sunday mornings at church. We also went on a trip to Mexico, which was life changing in so many ways.

We did a lot of trips together with the group, and Pastor Mark was on all of them. That summer after Mexico, we had another trip the week following so I went on that one as well (this was after a summer vacation with my family also). After three back-to-back weeks of not being home, I was exhausted and spent and ended up crying one of the last nights of that youth conference. Mark did what he did best. He noticed me, asked if I wanted to talk, and spent most of that evening session with me talking about my heart issues and the place where I happened to be stuck at that time. He didn't say anything really earth-shattering that night, but what he said made a difference. It was actually the beginning of a big change in my life, of learning how to forgive and seeing God in the middle of hard times. He's probably had hundreds of talks like that, but for me it mattered that I mattered to him. He took time away from what he was supposed to be doing to listen, and he listened well.

There are fun memories too, like when he tried to hit traffic cones with the bus, or when he fell asleep standing up, or eating plain salsa in his office while we talked. All of them are memories of a person who was fully present in his place, doing what God called him to do, teaching and leading with a humility that I haven't ever seen in anyone else. Was he perfect? No. Was he the best youth pastor ever?

Probably.

He's retiring this week and going back to school to become a family counselor. I'm happy for him even though we're all going to miss him. He's been a counselor and confidant and co-conspirator to all kinds of people. He's taught God's word faithfully. He's lived a life without shadows. He's a husband and dad and a pastor. Whatever he's been in 25 years at our church to thousands of different people, he's been my friend, and that's what I'll cherish the most.