A Labor of Love

Today is my 51st Labor Day.  I have celebrated the day in a variety of ways over the years (picnics, Disney World etc.).  It is not a day that holds any grand traditions for my family and I.  But if we were to play that word association game where you say "Labor Day" and I say the first thing that comes to mind, my answer would always be "Last Gasp Summer Blowout."  Each year from 1994 through 1999, the youth of the First United Methodist Church of Kissimmee ended out summer with a trip to Melbourne Beach, FL.  The last 4 of those years we took the trip on Labor Day weekend.  It speaks volumes about me that my favorite tradition for the holiday only happened 4 times in 51 years, and that it involved me working on a day most of the country takes a vacation.  They say that when it becomes difficult to separate your vocation from your vacation that you have found your calling.  Student ministry was that for me.  And the Last Gasp was a true labor of love...

I have told many of the stories of those years in other places (especially in my post 7 Things: The Last Gasp Summer Blowout!) and I will not retell them here.  But I do want to remember one of our closing worship services, because it was so meaningful to the group back then, and even more meaningful in my life today.  On this particular occasion we gathered late on Sunday night in an upstairs meeting room, with a beautiful view of the Atlantic Ocean out the window behind me.  I had a covered table with a lone greenware statuette of a young woman and some paints.  After some singing to set the mood, we turned out some of the lights and I began to weave a story of a young woman.  I either called her Mary or Susie; different people have different memories of that one.  Her story was not a happy one.  Struggle after struggle, failure after failure, heartbreak after heartbreak marked her life.  She lost faith.  She lost hope.  And with each chapter of her story I poured a different color paint over the statuette.  Dark, dim colors.  And after each pouring I would pause and let the silence make the group uncomfortable.  Finally, when Mary/Susie reached her breaking point, I told the students that she could no longer take it, and that her life came crashing down.  With one swift move, I pulled out a hidden hammer and smashed the greenware into thousands of pieces.  There was a loud gasp from the crowd.  Several of the youth sitting up front were hit by flying clay and paint- in fact, the guitar I played that night had paint on it permanently.  Everyone was stunned.  And then I continued.  I pulled out a brand new, exact duplicate statuette and began to talk about the grace and redemption we can find in Jesus Christ, regardless of our sins, regardless of our failures.  And with each of these stories I poured a bright paint over the young woman as a symbol of new life.  There were many tears that night, and many re-affirmations of faith.  It was a wonderful night with some of my favorite people in one of my favorite places.


A little over 4 years ago I felt much like the first statuette.  I felt lost, and the colors of my life were very dark.  But God is faithful, and the love and grace of Jesus did indeed make me whole again.  It is moments like that one at the Quality Suites of Melbourne that remind me that my days in ministry were not only meaningful to the students I served, but they were life-changing for me as well.  It's what made youth ministry a labor of love for me, and made those Labor Day weekends so special.  Well, that and the great times in the hot tub and pool...   Have a blessed Labor Day, dear friends!


Because of Jesus,