I’ve been reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan this week. Normally a speed reader, I just now completed the second chapter. Why? Because I’m awash in realization of the boat I’ve missed. Let me explain.
After several starts and stops in my career over the past five years, I found myself exploring a business concept and product line to help others define their purpose. It’s been quite a ride. During the trip, I discovered how my own propensity to fix processes was really a desire to help people understand why they matter in this big world of ours; to see beyond perceived limitations and seize opportunity; to be aware of the need around them; and ultimately, become a hero to at least one person. It explains my passion for service.
At age 12, I wrote a play and invited as many kids as possible in my class to participate in a practice at my house one afternoon. Honestly, I was surprised at who showed up. The more popular kids, boys and girls, made up the majority. Confidence is fragile at 12, especially where boys are concerned (I don’t think this fact has changed much since that time, either). At some point during rehearsal, a group broke off to sit on the patio. The others left, impatient as the remaining group of four pursued conversations about life, relationships, and struggles. I found myself grabbing a Bible and referring to Scripture in response to questions. Chalk it up to excitement, enthusiasm or passion as a new Christian or just something meant to be. On June 25, 1996, I learned one of the boys in that group died. The announcement was only a mention but someone told me drugs were involved, and it was possibly a suicide.
His death saddened me deeply. I asked the obvious “why?” questions. After all, this guy had looks – boy, did he! He was funny and seemed to have it together as well as any other 12-year-old. So what happened? I’ll probably never know, but I still ask when something triggers the memory. What in our conversation could have saved him but didn’t? What could have saved him at all? I don’t know what was done to help him, but how many others like him are out there? That’s what I find myself asking.
You see, service is defined by awareness of surroundings and the individual next to you. Service is providing a smile, a helping hand at the gas pump to an elderly woman, a dollar to the person on the side of the road, or buying $10 worth of groceries for the person at the register who’s $2 short. But more importantly, it’s about providing a message of hope and personal worth so loneliness and despair don’t prevail. You can fix all the processes behind the problem but it’s the heart of the person which needs attention.
This is where I am. We’re faced with a new generation of technologically focused young people connected through Facebook, YouTube, Google search, iPhone, iPad, iPod, and any text messaging phone available. Social networking is overtaking the propensity for conversation, relationships, intimacy, and spirituality. Youth Worker Journal had a great article on technology and youth cultures titled, “Tuned In, Turned Off: The YWJ Culture and Technology Roundtable” in its January/February 2011 edition. Unfortunately it’s subscription-based, but you can pick up the magazine at most Christian bookstores or visit www.youthworker.com. I highly recommend it for everyone.
The article affirmed personal observations of cultural trends. We are a nation of self. Social networking serves only to reinforce this trait. Just read the posts on Facebook or MySpace. Look at the number of self-promoting videos found on YouTube. Observe the number of students entering the workforce without relationship skills.
If we are to save our youth, country, and society, the message of hope and love must be strengthened through a closer look and walk with God. Forget religion, get to know God. When you do, you’ll recognize the sacrifice made for each of us. His was the ultimate act of service.
As this adventure begins, I hope you are inspired to connect, ask, answer and relate to someone in need. You may find yourself a hero in the moment.