Winners never quit... but I did.

I have a confession to make.

I quit my last job, because I felt completely and totally inadequate.

To be fair, that’s a gross oversimplification of the situation. I had another job offer, and the position was a great opportunity for me. However, I wouldn’t have even considered applying for this position if it weren’t for my feelings of inadequacy in my old position.

I was a Coordinator of Religious Education and Youth Ministry for a parish. Originally, when I interviewed for the job, I was interviewing for the Coordinator of Religious Education position – a position where I was confident that my skills and experience qualified me to do the job. I went to the interview thinking, based on the job description, that the parish wanted to hire someone to do a lot of work for a little money. I left the interview thinking that it had been the worst interview in my life, and that the pastor did not like me. At all. Much to my surprise, I was offered the position. Also, to my surprise, the position now included youth ministry.

No biggie, I thought. I was formally trained as a high school teacher; I LOVE junior high and high school youth. I get them. I love God. I can make this work. I can figure it out. It would take a lot of prayer and preparation, but if this is what God was calling me to do, I could make it happen. I was so wrong.

Maybe that’s not quite fair, either. Because I do love youth, and I do love God, and there have been moments when I was a good youth minister. And God did, as God always does, make things happen. But I never could figure out how to minister to the youth in this parish.

I literally would leave Youth Ministry events in tears. I would go home, collapse in my bed, and either fall straight to sleep from sheer exhaustion, or cry because I was so frustrated, devastated, and just… confused. How do you balance fun time and God time? How do I share Jesus, when the majority of those who show up just wanted to have fun? Just “living the Gospel” only seemed to go so far. How could I make God fun? How could I not be a sell out to making youth ministry just another social club? How do I meet the needs of each youth, when they were all over the place in knowledge and faith formation, even in physical and cognitive development? How could I build relationships with them, so that I earned the right for my voice to be heard? I wanted to share Christ with these kids… and I was so, so, so tired trying to do it. God is good, all the time? God was exhausting, all the time.

I could get kids to love English. I helped a kid who had never read an entire book in his fourteen years of life connect to characters so strongly that he read not one, but three entire novels – in two days. I was privileged to witness a girl, who had been repeatedly abused sexually, find her voice and her strength through paper and pen, slowly finding healing and redemption, one couplet at a time. I could teach kids to conjugate verbs, write a well-supported essay, and cite sources used in research. I could introduce youth to the world of symbolism and metaphor through literature. I couldn’t introduce youth to Christ, or teach them about His Church. And it killed me. Because that was far more important than writing and reading well. There was nothing I wanted more than to be a good youth minister – not for my own sake. But for the sake of the youth, and because it was, I believed, sacred and holy work that was entrusted to me. It wasn’t about me. But that made it so much more important to do it and do it well.

It seemed the more time I committed to the work, the worse the outcome. And I constantly felt like it was ready to just take off, to explode with growth, if I could just manage to squeeze in one more meeting, wrangle up a few more volunteers, scrounge up a few more dollars for the budget… But on the inside, I felt like a complete failure. And I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t have time to do the things I knew needed to be done, and I couldn’t achieve “good youth ministry” without those things. How many more times could I say I was leaving it up to the Holy Spirit to work with what was there, when I wasn’t really doing my part, putting in the time and attention the ministry – and the youth – deserved? So I quit.

The first emotion was relief. The second was disappointment. Relief that this pressure was removed. Disappointment, because I failed.

I had plenty of other good reasons for taking the position I have now – and I did pray a goodly amount before just up and leaving the parish position. I do believe that God was calling me to this position (Though sometimes, in the back of my mind, I wonder if that sense of calling was real, or just a way to let myself off the hook, so to speak, with youth ministry. And I’m pretty sure God has assured me that God is the one doing the calling around here.) But of all the important decisions I've ever made, this is the one that I find myself analyzing the most. Since taking on my new position, I have volunteered in youth ministry, both at my former parish and in other capacities, and I truly love it. It's fulfilling and energizing and wonderful. I often have the thought, "When I'm a professional youth minister again...," even though I am perfectly happy in my current position. And I'm completely ashamed to discuss why I left youth ministry to begin with, because as blessed as I am to do the work I'm doing now, in the back of my mind and the depths of my heart, I feel like I gave up, let people down, abandoned those youth...

A couple weeks ago, the Gospel message was from John 6, the Bread of Life discourse. It is one of my favorite passages from Scripture, despite, or perhaps because of, its dense theological implications. But it was one single sentence that caught my attention and stuck with me: “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” (John 6:29)

The first emotion was relief. The second was disappointment. Relief that I just need to believe in Jesus. Disappointment because… all I need to do is believe in Jesus, and the rest will work out. Because it’s not about me.

Faith is not a feel good thing. It’s not about being happy, or satisfied, or even accomplished – I mean, sometimes you get that. But that’s not the entirety of faith. Faith is about seeking God and God’s will, continuing to develop a relationship, living the Paschal Mystery – a constant cycle of dying and rising, sorrow and joy. The work of God is believing in Christ. Even when everything else seems to be falling apart. Plenty of good things are promised – love, joy and peace, for example -- but that promise comes in the context of taking up a cross. Daily.

I don’t necessarily think I should have stuck it out at the parish. I am fairly confident that the issues that were there needed a fresh set of eyes, and, more importantly, a renewed spirit. And maybe that’s where the reading from this past weekend comes into play: “Get up and eat, else the journey will be too long for you! (I Kings 19:7b)

God knows what the journey will bring…

*Disclaimer: This was post was very difficult to write. I've thought about this a lot, and I don't quite know what it all means. If it doesn't make sense, well... that's real for me. Thanks for playing along.