Influences- J. David Stone

Early in 1979 I was making one of my regular visits to the NC Yearly Meeting offices next door to New Garden when Jan Osborne asked me if I would be interested in attending a workshop in Charlotte. A group from NCYM was going to be part of something called The Creative Models of Youth Ministry Workshop, led by a guy named J. David Stone. I had never heard of either, but that was not surprising. At this point in my life I was leading a youth group (and making $50 a month) but had no idea what youth ministry was all about. I did what my youth leaders had done and worked in some things I had learned at Quaker Lake, but for the most part, I knew nothing. On top of that, I had recently been dealing with some strong feelings that God had something for me to do with my life- I just had no idea what. So when Jan asked if I wanted to go (and said it was free!), I was in.


To say that those few days in Charlotte changed my life is a massive understatement. I don't remember who was with us; I don't remember who the other leaders were; but I will never forget David Stone. Dave Stone turned out to be a youth pastor and teacher of youth ministry at Centenary College in Louisiana. He and his team were a whirlwind of games, programs and theories about youth ministry. I learned so much. Many of the things I learned were things that stayed with me my entire career in ministry. I learned how to train other to help me using the 4 Phases of Ease. I learned how to get students to open up to me through Re-Evaluation Counseling. I learned how important it was to meet students of their turf instead of always waiting for them to come to church. I learned games and songs. Anyone who ever had to last through the marathon that is Children Go Where I Send Thee can blame David Stone! And I learned that what I was doing was a ministry, not a glorified baby-sitting job, and that I was helping point students to Jesus. At least that was the task before me.


On the final evening I got a few moments to talk with David alone, and I shared with him that I was seeing my work with students in a whole new light, and that I was still praying for some clarity on what God was calling me to do with my life. He looked me in the eyes and said "I think God is calling you to ministry." Now when he said "ministry" I immediately thought "pastor" and started to panic. I really had not felt that calling at all, and I told him so. You have to understand that in 1979 very few people had chosen youth ministry as a career path. It was a steppingstone to being a "real" pastor, something you did until you were deemed ready to serve God in some more dignified fashion. So when David Stone put his hand on my shoulder and said "I think maybe God wants you to see youth ministry as a lifetime calling" it shook my world. I sat down, closed my eyes, and almost immediately knew he was right. I was scared, and I didn't really understand what it meant...but it felt so right in my soul. From that night forward,through all of the trials and tribulations to come, I knew I was where God wanted me to be, and I knew that the only way I could survive was to do this with Jesus.


I got back to New Garden and immediately started freaking people out. I wanted an office where we could meet with kids during the week. We started new programs and became much more focused on connecting kids to Christ. And over the next few years David Stone was always someone I could turn to when I had questions and doubts. And much later, in 1994, he helped me make the move to a Methodist church. We were only face-to-face on 3 occasions in my life, and I left him with so much still to learn. He understood about a lifetime of learning- his textbook was called The Complete Book of Youth Ministry- Vol. 1! But J. David Stone was the person God used to teach me that I was in this position of ministry so Jesus could use me. And for that I am forever grateful!


So when you look at the big picture, God used Jan Osborne to help set me on fire! I'd laugh- but it all happened to me!


Because of Jesus,

"It Only Takes A Spark..."

Some people step into your life and are there for many years, through many adventures and stories. Others pass through your life life a Roger Clemens' fastball- you barely see them, yet the impact is significant. For me, Jan Osborne was one of the latter. You can read about her impact tomorrow. You can laugh about her today!


Jan succeeded Wallace Sills as the Youth & Christian Education Secretary of North Carolina Yearly Meeting in the late 70's. Those were big shoes to fill, and she had the disadvantage of not being well known among Carolina Quakers. She had many gifts in CE, but was a little shaky when it came to being with youth. Part of her job was to direct high school and junior high camps at Quaker Lake, and this was a challenge for her. She was not all that comfortable being in the great outdoors. But she gave it all she had for the couple of years she was involved.


In the summer of 1979 we were just finishing a 6th, 7th & 8th grade camp, which those of us on staff always thought of as a very tough week. There is a great deal of difference in maturity- physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally- between a 6th grader and an 8th grader. But this week had been relatively smooth. On Friday night, as we always did, we waited for night to fall and then headed deep into the woods for our closing Campfire Circle. After sharing in the silence and the words of campers and staff recounting the week, we did our ritual candle lighting. Everyone carried a lighted candle securely tightened into a small wooden base as we marched through the woods, across the Rainbow Bridge and around the lake to the dock. The dock was "H" shaped in those days, and the entire camp walked out on the dock with candles lit. Jan said a few words explaining the significance of each person now sharing their light with the world. She was explaining that in a few moments we would all place our candles on the lake, where the combined light was always a wondrous sight to see. As she leaned over to demonstrate, the sleeve of the flannel shirt she was wearing as a jacket got too close to the candle next to her...and Jan was on fire! Joseph Neal helped her get the burning shirt off and stomp out the fire as everyone looked on in shock. Jan was fine, and determined to give this week of camp the spiritual ending it deserved, so she went right back to her speech. She told everyone to place their candle on the lake, and then asked Martha Ratledge to lead us in singing Pass It On, a camp favorite. As we stood on the dock and admired the candles on the lake, Martha began to play her guitar, and the first line was sung: It only takes a spark, to get a fire going... I don't know if I laughed first, but I laughed out loud, and so did many others. The moment was gone. Suddenly everyone there was doubled up with laughter. Jan tried to restore some dignity, but it was too late.  I am sure someone closed with a prayer, but I don't remember it at all.  And that is the last thing I remember about Jan Osborne and Quaker Lake.


Jan may have set herself on fire and been caught in the spotlight while using the toilet in the woods (see my earlier post http://youthguy07.blogspot.com/2009/08/otj-training.html) but even this "blur" in my life made such a significant difference in who I came to be. God so often blesses things and people to change our lives when we least expect it.  And Jan was about to set in motion events that God would use to change me forever.  As a matter of fact, you could say that Jesus was about to set me on fire...


Because of Jesus,

Old Friends

For Beth (On right, with Becky, Tammy and Lisa), on her birthday...old friends are the best friends!

Marilyn and I have lived most of the last 15 years in central Florida, and for the most part we love it here. This time of year, however, always makes me yearn for North Carolina, because autumn is coming- but not to Florida! Football season is over before the weather cools off; the leaves rarely give you much color before falling; and wearing white (or swim suits) after Labor Day is just not a big deal! I notice this all the more because some of my favorite memories of growing up in the New Garden Friends youth group are of our annual autumn trip to Fancy Gap, VA, and Sam Levering's apple orchard. The weather there would always be crisp and cool, and we loved it.


Sam Levering was an amazing man. He and his family ran this huge orchard, but he also spent half the year in Washington, DC, helping to represent Quakers in the formation of policy. He spent a number of years helping to draft The Law of the Sea Treaty. I could spend many days writing about Sam (there are books about him!) but today I am focusing on his orchard. We would go and stay in a house built for migrant apple pickers. We would pick apples, sing songs, eat granola (with applesauce) and spend hours together in the sunshine and under the stars, just hanging out and becoming the best of friends. At the time, so many things seemed important, and if you had asked me then what I remember about Sam's place I would have told you about the girl I had a crush on, or the long walks and talks with my best friend Steve, or that the first song I ever wrote was written there. But looking back, Sam's place was at the heart of my relationship with my other best friend from those years- Beth. We also had long walks and talks; we sat out under the amazingly star-filled sky many nights just sharing our dreams, our fears and our joys. We would have marathon back rub sessions (the whole group always did, including the time Becky was sleep talking about saving a tree). I would whine about girls, and she would listen and comfort me. Every relationship would feel stronger after a weekend away at Sam's, but Beth and I always managed to keep it going and build on it. There was a time when no one knew or understood more about me than Beth...and I was very comfortable with that.


There were a few times when things almost got romantic between us, but (for better or for worse) we always managed to avoid that pitfall. I asked her to my senior prom (she was a year younger) just days after she had accepted another invitation from the guy she would marry a few years down the road. (Talk about your what ifs...) And still we remained the best of friends. I would visit her at college quite often, and we held each other's hands through some tough times there. I went to play cards at her place one night and met a young woman named Marilyn Steele there, although Beth's roommate Denise gets the credit for introducing us. I sang in her wedding, and was thrilled to have her at ours. When we moved to Florida, Beth and I lost touch, like so many people do as years go by. But when my dad died in 2006 and we had a memorial service for him at New Garden, she and Bob were there, along with so many of our friends from the old days. And just like it had always been, as soon as I saw Beth I knew everything was going to be ok.


I have lived a life that has allowed me to be touched by hundreds of people in meaningful ways. There have been others with whom I have shared more experiences, and certainly my incredible wife now knows me best, and loves me anyway. But in those teen years, when everything seems so important and so difficult, Beth was always there. So many times over my years of ministry I have prayed that kids in my groups would find friends like Beth, Tammy, Steve, Lisa, Carl and the rest. And I am not sure I ever said "thank you." So "thank you," Beth, for being there for me. I am not sure who wrote these words, but they seem so appropriate I will quote them anyway: "The miles may separate as life goes along, but the bond between friends will remain ever strong." And I know, each time I pray and each time I think of all of those incredible people in that youth group who changed my life, that because of Jesus our time together is not over. I wonder what Wild Thing will sound like in heaven...


Because of Jesus,

Bleeping Jesus

Today's adventure in missing the point is an excerpt from John Fischer's brilliant book Real Christians Don't Dance. (Bethany House Publishers, 1988) John is a favorite of mine, having written such great songs as The All Day Song and Have You Seen Jesus My Lord. I have always loved this story, but it has taken on added significance to me as I have grown older and realized far too clearly how often I have "bleeped Jesus." You may feel like you, too, are a ragamuffin who has stumbled more often than not. Don't miss the big finish, as John reminds us that God does loves us despite our bleeps; indeed, he uses us in a world that understands sinners much better than saints. Enjoy, and feel the freedom! (NOTE: For my younger readers, a typewriter was what we used as a keyboard until computers were invented. See, history can be fun!)

I've been trying to ignore this for some time now, but I can't any longer; it just keeps coming up. Every time I type a chapter on this Smith Corona XE 5100 Spell-Right typewriter, I am faced with a dilemma: my typewriter bleeps.I remember George Harrison's lament, "My guitar gently weeps," on the Beatles' famous white album. Well, my typewriter gently bleeps, or more accurately, "sickly" bleeps. It's a very pathetic, injured sound, like a little tone sort of bent over another. It reminds me of an ailing little lamb with half a vocal chord — not that I've ever been around an ailing little lamb with half a vocal chord, but I somehow think if I ever was it would sound like the bleep on my Smith Corona. The bleep comes from a 50,000 word dictionary that has been programmed into the brains of this machine. Whenever I type a word that isn't on the list — "Bleebleep!" — it bleeps at me. This is actually a very useful feature. More often than not, the bleep signals a typing error rather than a spelling mistake. But the spelling of particular words is an issue over which I and the typewriter fight an ongoing controversy. Fifty thousand words is a lot, but not enough to get all the derivations of all the words I use, not to mention some words that have simply been programmed incorrectly or missed altogether. So my typewriter has a bleep I cannot wholly trust, often sending me scurrying to my Webster's to defend myself. Imagine carrying on a running argument with your typewriter over the spelling of certain words.

But the real problem came when I began to suspect my typewriter was not a Christian. I first started to notice it on certain theological words like sanctification, glorification, Christology, and soteriology (which got bleeped twice). Soon I discovered a very interesting thing when I typed the word Christian. It gets by unscathed, but Christians gets bleeped. Apparently my typewriter can handle one Christian at a time, but the idea of two or more of these things at once sends it squealing off like a sick lamb. This I-can-handle-one-but-don't-give-me-two phenomenon also applies to Baptists, Presbyterians, and Fundamentalists. Unfortunately for Methodists, they get bleeped before I can get to the final "t". I'm not even sure I want to mention what happens to Pente(bleep)costal(bleep)s(bleep).

But by far the biggest problem is the fact that my typewriter bleeps Jesus. Now it's true that many other common names get bleeped as well, but it's hard to understand how a typewriter that knows John, Dick, Harry, and Sally would not even know a name as important as Jesus. The final proof came when I found out Buddha got by without a sound! I can't deny it any longer; I'm going to have to face the hard facts: I'm dealing with a pagan typewriter.What shall I do? I'm trying to type out sanctified stuff and I'm getting bleeped all over the place! Well, as you can imagine, I've given this much thought and I've come up with three possible solutions:

1. Smash it. The thought that anything sanctified could ever come through a typewriter that gives Jesus the bleep is unthinkable. This typewriter shouldn't be allowed to live! Even if I sold it, I would be sending another pagan influence out into the world to corrupt someone else's mind. A typewriter that accepts Buddha and bleeps Jesus is certainly going to lend support to an already acceptable secularized world view. (Would you believe I just got bleeped on secularized?)

2. Surely someone out there in Christian World USA, some Christian electronic whiz-kid, has come up with a new mind for this thing. Perhaps I don't have to get rid of the whole typewriter, after all; I can just get it saved, take it to an electronic revival meeting. Someone must have thought of this by now.

3. I suppose I could find a way to use it as it is. I could use it as a reminder that I live in a world that is constantly bleeping Jesus. Every time I type that final s in His name and hear that sick squeal, I could feel the pain and reality of rejection. After all, "He came to his own and his own did not receive Him" (John 1:11).

Ah, but I cannot let myself off that easily. I cannot think myself more noble than the rest of this world for enduring a pagan Smith Corona; I am part of this bleeping world, too. The real truth I must face about all this bleeping is that I too bleep Jesus. I bleep Him whenever I compromise my faith. I bleep Him when I'm lazy and refuse to do what He wants in a given situation, when I'm so caught up in myself I can't care for someone else, when I fail to see His hand moving in all that goes on around me, and when I go through life forgetting that He is the most important thing in my memory bank. But realizing this doesn't merely leave me lamenting my bleeping self; it fills me with wonder to realize that He still uses my life. He goes on typing His truth right through all my bleeps into the reality of my life and the people I touch. I have to believe this or I will close my lid and be silent forever because I know that I am not a perfect instrument.

I think I'm going to keep this typewriter just as it is. After all, God has not smashed me or traded me in for another model. The fact that I can sanctify this typewriter through the truth of the words that pass through it, in spite of its bleeps, reminds me that God can do the same thing through my bleeping life in this bleeping world. - John Fischer

Starting A Riot

Many of you know that over the years I have been a participant or leader in over a dozen youth trips to New York, NY. What you may not know is that in the early days of these trips my group would travel as a part of a larger group from North Carolina Yearly Meeting (NCYM), which was itself part of an even larger group representing Friends United Meeting. To cut through the "Quakerese," it just means there were Quaker youth from all over the country on these trips. One such trip was in 1982 (I think- check out the picture of me on the ferry to see just how long ago!) and it was memorable in many ways, including the fact that it was Marilyn's first New York adventure. But today I want to tell you the story of Wallace Sills.

Wallace Sills was someone who was very important in my early participation with Friends (Quakers). My first week as a Quaker Lake camper, he was the acting camp director. He was the Youth and Christian Education Secretary (Quaker word for person in charge at that time) for NCYM, and I grew to know him pretty well.  He then became the Associate Pastor at Springfield Friends Meeting while I was working at New Garden, and I got to know him even better. In 1986 I would follow him at Springfield, after he had burned a few bridges there, but we remained friends over the years as he ministered at Jamestown Friends and later as a hospital Chaplain. Wally was a great guy with an amazing laugh and a huge heart for ministry, but those were not his most distinguishing traits. You see, Wallace looked like Paul Newman. And not just a little bit. People often did double takes when passing him on the street, and he once created quite a stir while trying to check out of a Sears.  Mr. Newman was a major star, having just done Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and The Sting, so everyone knew him. Wally hated the attention. He didn't like people to mention it, and he certainly would never talk about it himself.  Of course, it did offer us some opportunities...

So we are in New York, catching the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty to watch the seagulls crash (another story for another day!). It was the week of Thanksgiving, and the ferry was packed with tourists just like us from all over the world. Wallace was standing on the upper deck of the boat looking at Liberty Island, when we noticed that he was sharing that deck with hundreds of Japanese tourists. Now this will sound like an ethnic stereotype, but I promise you that nearly every single one of those Japanese tourists had a camera! After a quick meeting, several people (not me!) positioned themselves in the middle of the group and yelled loudly "LOOK! IT"S PAUL NEWMAN!!!" People began to turn and stare, and Wallace was frozen like a dear in the headlights. At that point, what seemed like 1000 camera flashes began to pop, and we could hear the tourists, in broken English, saying "PAUL NEWMAN!"  Wallace made a break for it, heading down the stairs with flashes following him all the way. He was not happy with any of us, but we were pretty pleased with ourselves!  To this day I still wonder how many of those tourists have framed pictures of Wallace Sills hanging in their homes, regaling their friends and families with stories about the day they saw him on the ferry to Liberty Island.

Over the years we actually did see a number of famous people on the streets and in restaurants in NYC- Billy Joel, Christie Brinkley, Evander Hollyfield, Chris Farley and more. And of course, I met Batman, but that too is a story for another day. But even with all of those celebrity sightings, nothing ever topped the day we gave Paul Newman to the world! And people say Christians don't have any fun...

Because of Jesus,

Sand, Water, Sand, Water, Crab, Crab, Crab!

 Traditions are interesting things. Some are developed over many years, while others come from random acts that are later on very difficult to pinpoint. I cannot remember many details of the first time one of my youth groups began yelling "sand, water, sand water, crab, crab, crab" (To save time and typing errors, this will henceforth be shortened to SWSWCCC). I do know that it would remain a tradition for many years, and that it never failed to strike fear in the hearts of its intended victims! Today I will attempt to give you an idea of how it came to be so feared. One summer in the late 70's or early 80's my New Garden Friends youth group was camping at the Ponderosa Campground in North Myrtle Beach, SC. The Ponderosa land is now luxury condos, but back in the day it was a huge campground. It was only a short walk to the ocean, a game room, a pier and many other things we enjoyed. As you walked to the ocean, you crossed a bridge over what was known as The Swash. It was an inland waterway just the campground side of the sand dunes from the ocean. When the tide came in, The Swash would fill with ocean water, and people would play in it (My best friend Steve and I once saw a drunk man drive his car into it late one night when we were in high school!). When the tide was out, it would be almost empty, and you could see little fiddler crabs running everywhere along the banks. One night, after going for a walk on the beach, we returned to the edge of a very full Swash. It is at this point that my memory is very cloudy, but someone- I am guessing a guy, probably Dick Lee, Bruce Reynolds, Tommy or Freddie Hollowell, a Newby or Marshall Ratledge- decided one of the girls should go swimming. Fully dressed, of course! The young lady who was chosen as a victim- I am guessing Kathryn Burris, Beth Edgerton or Terri Johnson (all pictured at top) because it was always them- was not going silently. Others joined in, and the victim was grabbed by her feet and wrists, rolled in the sand, and then dipped in The Swash. This was then repeated, all the while reminding her of the crabs we (yes, we- I was part of this too) had seen there before. And finally she was tossed into The Swash. Thus the chant SWSWCCC became a means of striking fear in the hearts of our group that week.

Late one night we were once again near The Swash when the guys decided the victim would be Ling Lee. Ling was a beautiful high school girl (pictured at right) who could not have been more quiet or shy, and the guys wanted her to feel included. As the SWSWCCC chant began, an interesting thing happened. Ling wrapped herself around a nearby picnic table...and the guys could not pry her loose! They pulled and yanked, but every time they would get a leg free, she would tighten her grip. When her hands came free, she wrapped her legs so tight she could not be moved. This went on for quite some time, until, as I remember it, the guys had to give up. In any case, Ling became part of the legend that was SWSWCCC!

The Swash has been gone for years, but SWSWCCC never went away. Many groups and many victims have been part of the tradition over the years. In later years, the THREAT of the event was more prevalent than the actual performance, but the words never quit striking fear in the hearts of fully clothed youth walking down the beach- especially at night.

You may have more information on the actual events of that first SWSWCCC, or you may have your own story to tell. I would love to hear them, and I am sure others would as well. In the meantime, I encourage you to carry on the tradition with your family, your friends, and any groups you may travel with. SWSWCCC should live on- even if it's only as a threat! And if you ever get a real crab to grab a victim, PLEASE send pictures! That's one thing I never did see...

Because of Jesus,

A Rant by a Ragamuffin

I'm sorry, gang, but I need to rant... Yesterday I was once again confronted with the fact that lots of people who call themselves Christians have very little in common with Jesus. They know Jesus, I am just not sure they get Jesus!  Jesus commanded us to "judge not at all" (Matthew 7:1).  These people find great pleasure in judging others.  Jesus told us that "he without sin should cast the first stone" (John 8) and these folks are rolling boulders! Jesus told us to "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44) and this gang of church goers is just praying that we all mess up so they will have something else to gloat about.  Paul tells us that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23) and they can quote that.  But in their tiny minds any sin that THEY don't commit is a greater sin than the ones they do. They paraphrase Paul; "All have sinned and fall short; but YOU are a true sinner!"  And the worst part is that their attitude starts to pull me in. I get angry, and I sit here knowing I should be praying for those who persecute me...but what I really want is for God to warm up the lightning strikes and straighten a few people out! I judge them...I throw stones...and I cease to follow the example of Jesus.


The Lord knows I sin.  He also knows that you do too.  My prayer today is that I would let the grace of Jesus Christ flow in my life, that I would treat people better than they treat me, and that God would move in my life and theirs to show the world that we truly understand that the church is here to be a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.  Because if sinners are not welcome in our lives and at our churches...start printing the going out of business signs now!


Thanks, I feel better now! Come back tomorrow and I promise you a good story- the origins of the infamous Sand, Water, Sand, Water, Crab, Crab, Crab....


Because of Jesus,