An Embarrassment of Riches

I just returned from a trip to Hurricane (pronounced HURRicun) West Virginia with the church's high school youth group. 17 teens, 4 adults, and me... best described as a big kid with a wife and a mortgage and a fair amount of responsibility. Our trip was for REACH workcamps, a "Jesus centered" organization that goes into rural communities and unleashes teens and adult leaders in groups of 7-15 people to work on the houses of elderly, disabled or otherwise underprivileged people.
This was my third camp and as these things go, may have been a catastrophe. The first time you do something like this, you are on an emotional and spiritual high. The second time, you enjoy it very much knowing what lies ahead and being a little smarter about the flow and organization of the whole thing.
What's left for the third trip?'
Everything, that's what.
The people I meet every year give me hope that the world is not so far gone just yet. These teens are giving up a chunk of summer to sleep on the floor of a school, take communal showers, eat cafeteria food (which need I remind you they do the rest of the year, too), leave behind friends and spend their own money on a trip to work in the hot hot sun of Wet Virginia (misspelling intentional) in the name of a God they cannot see but trust is there.
I wish I was as together at 35 years old as some of these "kids" are. I wish my sense of faith were as well developed and locked in. It took me until not too long ago to realize that not all rewards are tangible, let alone paid in a timely fashion.
What we these teens represent is an embarrassment of riches.
400 students and their willingness to learn and work and sweat and pray and praise and REACH their potential. 400 students with the singular desire spread love among the disenfranchised, to walk in the very footsteps of Christ and make the gospels come to life in 3D technicolor reality.
I can't help but gush about "my kids", who teach me every day more than I will ever be able to reciprocate. In attempting to answer their questions about the topics that press them, I find my own answers.
My faith was entirely redefined this week, by a 17 year-old young man whose father is a pastor. I don't even remember what he said, but it opened my mind to an entirely different plane of clarity on what leading a Christ-filled life should be. How do you thank a guy for that?
I am no Jesus freak. I am just as likely to blaspheme as I am to engage in prayer. I have a mouth that would make a sailor blush with shame. I do not raise my hands and sing praise music. I do not bow my head in church when everyone else does. I certainly don't speak in tongues, handle snakes, flagellate myself, chant, or even regularly read the Bible. I steadfastly refuse to take a Bible study class, go to Sunday school or even attend church as often as I could or should.
I am normal. I am unworthy. I have always acted accordingly. I know my station in the eyes of God.
And then I get cards and letters saying I strengthened someone's faith. I gave them hope. I saw them through a tough time and didn't know it and I am the coolest adult they know because I don't pretend to know it all and I don't pretend I ever was or ever shall be perfect.
And the faith wells within me. I have been give a gift I never thought I could achieve and that is one of a faith that is exemplar to others. Before I know it, here I am as a sheep who has not only found his shepherd, but has also helped guide other sheep back to safety.
And I love these kids. I have watched them grow. They have annoyed me mercilessly and given me joy beyond measure. they have shared their humor, their sadness and their troubles. They have listened to all of mine. There is no judging, just compassion and understanding.
And I think, after this week, the world isn't so doomed after all.
Now if we could just get the adults to step aside and sit down... I think the next generation is ready to take over.