Most of you all know by now that Project Burning Bush is ending as of August 31, 2011. I had the privilege to be the director of the program from 1999-2005 and Joy Crawford took over in 2006 until now. It’s been a tremendous twelve years and I am grateful for all of the people I’ve met and all the experiences we’ve had together.
As one time ends and another begins, I always find it helpful to reflect on what I learned in my experience. And then I offer thanks for the learning I received and try to find a way to use it in whatever ministry is coming next. So here’s a first crack at what I learned in Project Burning Bush.
Number One: I learned how to fail. I didn’t have a choice but to learn it. And painful though it was, it made me stronger and gave me a portion of wisdom that can only come from accepting my humanity. The first year Union had students on our campus was difficult at best and much of that failure was due to my leadership in creating something new. I learned humility, how to ask for and accept forgiveness, and how to ask for help without shame. I also learned that the only real failure is when we do not learn from our mistakes. So we wrote everything down that we knew didn’t work, scrapped the old curriculum, and started over. It was one of the best decisions we ever made for this program and that failure laid a strong foundation for the next ten years.
Number Two: I learned that the bottom line of any ministry and the only thing that ministry is ever about is loving people. I know that sounds like a really easy realization, but it’s not. We cannot minister unless we love the people to whom we are ministering. Repeat that last sentence, please. Have you ever met a teacher or a minister or a social worker that didn’t love you or the people they were serving? Of course you have. Either they were burned out, or they were overworked, or they were bitter, or they were afraid, or they were angry, or they were unsatisfied with what they were doing and they could not find any love to give.
We made a drastic shift in our ideology after 2001: We made the bold decision to love our students. We started by only hiring people who really knew how to love youth, without fearing them, and we worked to create an environment of trust and safety so that love could grow. It didn’t matter if you had ever worked with youth before. It didn’t matter how old you were. It didn’t matter if you had no recreation skills or music skills or even preaching skills. All that mattered is that you were open enough to really love the youth and give yourself appropriately to them. That meant creating necessary boundaries, of course, but not walls around our hearts. And so we shifted from being a program that teaches “stuff” to being a program that loves youth, trusts them, and expects the best of them. And you know what, it worked. Every year.
Number Three: I learned that we only learn in relationship to others. Think about it. Do you still remember the quadratic formula from 10th grade? How about the Preamble? French verb conjugations? Avogadro’s number? Bible verses from Sunday School? Probably not. But do you remember whether or not a teacher cared for you? Do you remember who sat next to you and whether you felt welcomed in that class? How about the people who held your hands during prayer at youth group? I’ll bet you remember people that loved you and the ones who didn’t, and that made all the difference in what you remember from each class. We learn when we are in a loving, safe, trusting community of people who support and challenge us. Because when learning involves relationships, what we understand is placed in a context where it matters.
PBB intentionally set out to create communities based in trust and love so that relationships would form and learning could take place. We began by doing daily spiritual practices together and openly sharing our experiences with each other. We worshiped together, prayed together, walked the labyrinth together, listened together, served the city together, practice the lectio divina together, and reflected with Examen together. We put forth the intention and God blessed that intention. And today still stands a PBB community that visits each other, goes to school together, and chats regularly through all our social media. Thanks be to God.
Number Four: I learned to create space for God. Learning isn’t just about the class work or the workshops or the art we produce or the trash we pick up at the river. Our curriculum shifted from the “stuff” we teach to the space we provide in the daily schedule. The space BECAME the curriculum. The time allotted to our students for journaling, prayer, and free time became how they processed what was happening around them and what was happening inside them. The students got more from their Examen sessions each night than they did from any classroom. The classes were the catalyst. We provided the space. And then God created something new. A packed schedule shows fear of idleness and mistrust of “wasted” time, especially when it relates to youth. But that time isn’t wasted when it’s used to strengthen the community and listen to God’s voice. It become sacred space. We learned to trust that truth. And the more space we provided in the schedule for rest, reconnection, and listening, the stronger our community became and the more we all learned to listen to God.
This is true in our lives today. By filling every second of our time in any given day, we don’t trust ourselves with the gifts of emptiness and Sabbath. We don’t give God the space to create something new. Certainly God can break into any schedule, but why not invite God to do that instead of forcing God to crash the party.
There are many, many other things I learned about trusting myself and others, about letting go when all I could do was done, and learning that the next step isn’t always clear. I’m still learning those things. And I’m still learning to listen and to trust. For my ministry in this world is not over and God still has amazing things planned for me. Of course I wish God would tell me now, but patience seems to be my particular lesson to learn so I’ll wait it out.
Until then I’ll create space, form friendships, try to love my neighbor, and when I fail I’ll shout to the heavens, unafraid and undeterred, “I failed! Thank you!”
