Why Can't Life Be More Like Living at a YS Convention?

I've just finished the last convention of this season. Last night at Compline in the Sanctuary I had this very emotional moment where I didn't want the convention to end. Compline with Communion typically signifies the end for me, and when Mike started to prepare communion, I was overwhelmed. At first I thought it was because life isn't exactly good for me right now at home, but I quickly realized that wasn't it. I simply didn't want to leave the amazing people who have become my YS family - those who know me, allow me to be me, and love me anyway.

On the way to the airport, I had a few conversations with people who were concerned about what they convention has become or what it might become. That got me thinking about why the NYWC is so special to people, and I decided that life would be better if we could all live like we were at a YS convention.

Why? It seems that we are just better at loving each other at convention...

1. We share at convention. We had a ladder that Michael and Mark needed. It didn't matter that it was a little bit of an inconvenience and required some adaptation of the prayer chapel. They needed it, we had it, we shared. We give away knowledge and share our experience. Whether it's supplies, carts, food or ideas... if we have something that someone else needs, we share. Think about what would happen in our communities and churches if we shared like that! And how would the world be different if we shared our resources and made sure everyone had what they needed?
2. We help and serve each other at convention. We needed help getting workshops set up and torn down. Michael, Mark and Kelly helped us; we helped them. Gary showed up and offered to help set up a workshop. David showed up and packed after the workshop. Kelly walked almost a mile to pop popcorn for my session. Steve fixed our broken speakers. Holly sent us extra people to pack. Even the security guard walked through the building with me, showing me around and giving Lilly directions to the docks, finding the right people to get us carts and take our stuff to our rooms. People hold doors, help push carts, carry things out of their way, volunteer for things they'd never do at home, and go the extra mile at convention. What would happen if we willingly served each other that way in real life?
3. We're present with each other at convention. We take time to sit down and talk with each other. More importantly, we listen to each other. We sit with each other and pray - really pray - as in speaking to AND listening to God together. We celebrate together, and we cry together. We notice when someone is struggling and journey with them. We learn things about each other that would never come up in the casual conversation in our churches, schools and workplaces. Even in the briefest encounters, we connect with each other. Long after we leave a conversation, we remember the person's name or situation. We think about them and pray for them long after the convention is over. Whether we stay in touch or not, these people have left an imprint on our lives, and all because we are present with each other in those few moments or days when we are together.
4. We challenge each other to be our true selves at convention. We spark each other's creativity. We point out things in each others' lives that are keeping us from doing what we were created to do. We help each other notice patterns and passions in our lives. We encourage each other to follow our hopes, our dreams, our calls. We recognize each others' gifts, and we dream about how we could come together to do amazing things to glorify Christ. What would happen if we did this in our churches? Instead of holding people down because of their age or gender or background, what if we celebrated who people are and helped them discover who they were created to be? What if we held each other accountable to being true to ourselves and true to our calls? What if we served each other as spiritual directors and spiritual companions?
5. We're not afraid to admit we need help at convention. We openly weep. We tell others all the things that we've screwed up. We beg people for ideas on how to be better. We admit that we don't have all the answers. We ask people to walk with us on the journey. We quit trying to do it all ourselves, quit trying to be superheroes, quit trying to pretend that we have it all together. In those moments of honesty, when we freely ask someone to help us, we allow those around us to serve us, to be blessed by being present to us, to be stretched themselves by walking with us. Why can't we stop pretending in our churches? Why are questions and cries for help so hard, so scorned and so scarce in our home communities?

Now, I'm not naive enough to think that if we lived in convention-land all the time, everything would be perfect - or even as good as it is in convention-land. I realize that people tend to be on their best behavior for this short period of time. I also realize that one of the reasons we act this way towards each other is because we understand each other better than those outside the world of youth ministry understand us. We are also out of our home environments, often away from the stress and strain of every day life. We feel freer to take the time to be present or to go out of our way to serve someone else because we don't have to rush off to take care of the family or another youth crisis.

But I still have to believe that real life would be better if we lived more like we do in convention-land. Somehow, it reminds me of another "land" - I think Jesus called it "the kingdom" - where people share and serve and listen and challenge and love in such a way that relationships (with self, with others, with God) are restored, what is broken is healed, what is damaged or destroyed is rebuilt. The hungry are fed, the sick are tended, the homeless are sheltered, the imprisoned are freed. To me, it sounds a lot like the kind of kingdom God intended, and the kind of worship, at least according to Isaiah and Jesus, that pleases and glorifies our Creator. In fact, I think this might even be what it means to be a follower of Jesus...