Fuzzy Theology

When I first became a youth minister, I’m not sure what I expected. As a teenager, I hadn’t had much youth group experience beyond the annual dinner theater and the occasional social night. Yeah – I was that teen. But surely, I didn’t expect to find myself clinging to the side of a raft, spiraling wildly out of control down a series of rapids I’m sure we were too amateur to tackle while our guide was nowhere to be seen.

But if that’s not the definition of youth ministry, I don’t know what is.

If you’re new to our story, check out our first episode here. And hold on to your hats and breviaries because this one is a wild ride.

Day Two – White Water Rafting

Let me preface all of this by stating two undeniable truths.

#1 – I had never been white water rafting before.

I had been canoeing and that hadn’t turned out well for me – or for my boatmates. How a canoe can go sideways is still beyond me. But while we were struggling to extract ourselves from the weeds and away from spiders the size of mutant rats, I realized boats and I probably don’t mix well. I have other strengths. Watercrafting is not one of them.

#2 – I am not a small individual.

God has blessed me with substance. And this becomes a critical factor when determining where you sit on a raft – or any watercraft for that matter. Too many larger humans on one side of the boat and you’re doomed before you hit the first set of rapids – not that I’m foreshadowing or anything like that.

But it was these two truths that I held as I approached my first ever white water rafting experience.

If the bumpy bus ride wasn’t enough to set off a wave of seasickness, staring at the rapids in front of us was. We’d dragged our rafts up a hill, hiked with them through the woods, and approached the launching point weary and worried. The roar of the river reminded me that this wasn’t some kiddie amusement park ride that had been tested for safety countless times. This was wild, untamed water.

And I was about to enter it.

Thoughts of Peter sinking on the sea, of Jesus chastising him for his lack of faith, of the saving hand reaching out to pull him from the waves, filled my mind – while I tugged my life vest straps just a hair tighter.

But before we reached the front of the queue…

The skies opened up.

Blinding rain.

Flashing lightning.

Thunder rolling off the hills surrounding us.

I wish I could say I was relieved. That we scurried back to our buses and rode back to our base camp, soggy but safe.

“Boats run whether it’s storming or not,” our tour guide said over the latest blast of thunder, pushing our boat further forward in line.

I watched in horror as rafts filled with our teens, our chaperones, floated away down river, disappearing into the rain.

Was it me or did the rapids seem angrier?

Our crew had seven people. Three larger humans, three tiny humans who were not part of our usual group, and one casually unconcerned tour guide. As we approached the launching point, our tour guide shoved us into position and pushed off before I could even catch my breath.

I knew we were doomed the minute our raft left the concrete pad.

Three tiny humans sat on the left side of the boat, while three larger humans sat on the right. If you’ve ever seen an semi-truck taking a turn too quickly off the highway, you’ll have a clear image of what our raft looked like as we approached the first series of rapids – and yes, they were most definitely angrier.

We hit the rapid with the force of a battering ram. Water poured into our boat as the right side dipped into the river, taking on more than it could handle. Waves crashed over us, blinding us.

But we came out the other side. Still afloat. And more even than before.

Oh boy…

“WE LOST HER!” our tour guide shouted above the crashing waves. “ROW!”

May I remind you of truth #1. If I can make a canoe go sideways, you can’t imagine the things I can make a raft do.

Nothing.

We floated along helplessly while one of our adults bobbed in the water twenty yards from the raft. The current swiftly took her further from us – too far for our paddles to reach her.

“SHE’S GONE!” our tour guide screamed at us again. Our three tiny humans looked at us with eyes filled with fear. Gone?

I feel the need to pause here and place a disclaimer that our lost adult was not in fact “gone” but rather had made her way toward the river bank and had met up with another crew who had pulled over to wait out the storm – something we probably should have done. However, she was in fact, beyond our help.

But we didn’t know that yet.

At this high adventure camp, survival was not a guarantee.

We crashed through the next series of rapids while the tiny humans beside me sobbed with fear and worry. I didn’t know them. I hadn’t met them prior to us plunging into the river together. But they were in my boat and I was responsible for them.

I’d like to tell you I had the mental fortitude to call out prayers, bestowing a sense of peace on everyone.

I didn’t.

I’m pretty sure the words and sounds escaping from my mouth were unintelligible gibberish. But that’s the cool thing about the Holy Spirit.

“In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.”

Romans 8:26

Good to know I wasn’t the only one groaning.

I couldn’t tell you how long we traveled after that. It might have been fifteen minutes, fifteen hours, or fifteen days. And I can’t tell you at what point this happened, but our small raft of tiny and large humans – strangers really – faced our next major obstacle.

We’d lost our tour guide.

As we approached a narrow strait, I’d glanced behind me, hoping for guidance, reassurance – anything! What I found was an empty seat and a lonely oar.

Had our tour guide been the latest victim of the waves? Were we truly on our own? Did God really trust me to steer us to safety?

I wouldn’t have trusted me.

Our raft crashed and scraped and bumped through a series of boulders embedded deep into the river. We swirled and clung to the side of our raft, adrift together without an expert to steer us. If I thought mutant spiders and weeds were bad, boulders, blinding rain, and angry torrents were worse. All the while I could almost imagine the voice of our tour guide coming faintly from somewhere above us, screaming, “ROW!”

Like that would help.

But turns out – I could hear his voice from above us. A realization I came to a second too late as he leapt with all the grace of a toppling traffic cone from the top of the nearest boulder and back into our raft.

Landing with his knees into the small of my back.

There are pictures of this trip somewhere, I’m sure. There may be pictures of when our tour guide abandoned us to go rock climbing while we faced certain doom through a narrow spot in the river. Or when we’d caught our first glimpse of the landing location and knew we’d survived. There might even be a picture of us all together – before we hit our first rapid.

But more than pictures, it was the people in our boat I cherish most.

You need to pay attention to the people in your boat.

Thinking back on this short journey through the rapids, I realized just how important are the people in your boat.

You have the ones you’re responsible for – those souls God placed into your life because He knows you’ll be there to take care of them. Your children, your siblings, your parents, your teens, your students, those you minister to. God has entrusted you with their care. And even if you don’t know where to steer the boat or when you end up in the weeds, the Holy Spirit is there beside you, turning your words into wisdom, and your worries into songs of praise.

You have the ones you want to help, but can’t. They’re gone. Too far out of your reach, but able to be helped by others. The feelings of helplessness when you’re faced with losing someone from your boat can be heartbreaking, but trust that God will guide them – back to you or to the help they need. And be ready with prayers and hope, and know that God has plans for your strengths. Your purpose may not be to save those who have drifted from your boat, but there is someone here who needs you.

You have the ones who can help you – your friends, your mentors, your teachers, your spiritual advisors. They’re in your boat to guide you through those dangerous waters. And even when you’re going sideways, they’re swimming with you. Look for them when your courage is low and you’ve lost your way.

And you have those who crash into and out of your life like a wrecking ball. Who lead you astray, or who by their mistakes give you the courage to stand strong. Their presence in your boat can be a lesson. Keep your ears open to hear it.

This journey isn’t long and the time you spend the with the people on your boat matters.

Tell me, who is in your boat?

At once Jesus spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter said to him in reply, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how strong the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” After they got into the boat, the wind died down.

Matthew 14:27-32

Thank you for joining me for this next episode of Adventures in Youth Ministry. Leave me a comment with someone in your boat – or who has left your boat – and help me continue to share this story.