Hysteria Lane

I haven't laughed so hard in so long - the students who were with me would just say a word and I would burst out laughing! Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the emotional stress of being away from my beautiful wife and children, or maybe God knew I needed a good laugh because I have been so emotionally constipated for so long because of this crazy life. Whatever it was, I still giggle when I think about Marko.

Marko is Mark Oestreicher, President of Youth Specialties. His hair was creeping me out all week long when we were in Nashville. It was really greasy and skunk-like. (Sorry Marko. I'm sure I have a picture around here somewhere...).

He was the final speaker at NYWC this year. He did the unthinkable for a trained professional youth worker and threw his message out the window because God was directing him to say something very different than he had expected to say. I was proud of him. He talked about how he used to believe that he was at the pinnacle of youth ministry when he booked Disneyland and Universal Studios for 4500 kids. Talking to the kids in his youth group and small groups years later, none of them mentioned this. They all mentioned other relational times and what God had done in their midst in the little things. In the moments where there was no big event. In the small times when they could hear that still small voice and know they were loved.

His realization for him was a comfort to me because I had always assumed YS was about big and flashy, not small and subtle. I may have been right at one time. Perhaps I still am. It will take a long time for the Titanic of youth ministry to turn the corner when it has built its identity around an iceburg. Maybe we should man the lifeboats before it is too late - while the party is still happening and the music is still playing. Or not. That wasn't the point. The point was that small and insignificant is of massive importance.

As an aside, Marko recalled a time he was on a work project with some of his Jr. High students. He was teaching three of his kids how to shingle a roof, crouching down and standing back up as he pounded the nails in. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to pack enough clothes for the week, and was wearing a slightly torn pair of pants. Each time he crouched he could hear the seams creaking, stitches groaning. Finally, as he crouched down, the silence was shattered by a deafening RRRRIP! As he stood up with a wild-eyed look on his face, he exclaimed after a moment of stunned silence, "I think I just ripped my butthole!" His kids looked at him in complete shock as if it were true. Me, on the otherhand -

I burst out uncontrollable laughter. I was coming apart at the seams! I was in stitches! Every time I closed my eyes I couldn't help but see the faces of the kids on the roof in shock and awe; when I opened them, all I saw were my friends laughing along with me, and eventually at me because I frankly couldn't stop. The tears flowed down my face. Marko was trying to continue on to a more serious point, and I was still desperately attempting to control myself. And then Sarah and Justin and Amy kept whispering to me, "I just ripped my butthole!" The laughing would subside somewhat, then resurge as powerfully as ever. I laughed for minutes. They mercilessly prodded me to keep me laughing, and every time they laughed at me I laughed even harder. My stomach hurt and my cheeks burned. I tried holding my breath, closing my eyes, and plugging my ears, but that just made things worse! They just wouldn't leave me alone until I pleaded with them through sobs of laughter and heaves of joy.

And now, I have people walking up to me at school telling me that they just ripped their you-know-what and I can't help but crack up. Even as I type this, I can't help but snicker. It seems that every metaphor and adjective I can think of to describe my laughter is somehow related to butts or tearing pants.

Of course, no-one could understand why this was so funny until I explained to them that the day before I was doing cartwheels in the expansive hallways of the Grand Opry Hotel next to a little girl. Her mom explained to me that I should try leading with my dominant hand for a better cartwheel (which felt so awkward). She was totally right though. I did the best cartwheel I had done in years! Unfortunately my pants were unaccustomed to such magnificence and couldn't quite hold it together. RRRIP! I tore the crotch on my favorite pair of jeans in front of a little girl and her mom mid-cartwheel. I don't know if they noticed (how could they not!) but I wasn't sticking around to find out! I booted it to find the rest of my group and showed Mino the damage I had incurred. No-one else was the wiser. That was until my dirty little secret was brought to life in the laughter of the next morning's message.

O dear. What will you ever do with me?