Surprise Affirmations

Last weekend I had the opportunity to help lead a grade school retreat at the parish where I grew up. My feelings about it beforehand were certainly mixed. On one hand, this particular retreat is a great model for getting soon-to-be high schoolers plugged in to opportunities with both youth group and developing their own faith. On the other hand, why do I have to be the one? Spending a weekend with 150 screaming teenagers (in addition to the 75 eighth graders, another 75 high schoolers helped lead the retreat) wasn't exactly the way I hoped to spend three-fourths of a four-day holiday weekend.

But here's what I learned last weekend:

1. For me, there is no such thing as a standard 9-5, 40 hour work week. It would be one thing if I worked as a librarian or a lawyer--being surrounded for a weekend by the excitement and pure joy of youth could be a pleasant change once in awhile. But as a retreat coordinator and campus minister at an all-boys' high school, the only thing different between this and how I spend my weeks was the sudden insertion of 100 XX chromosomes, and even a number of the XY'ers were students from school. Being involved in the life of teenagers isn't something I'm able to leave at the door Friday afternoon. I'm learning that can be both exhilarating and exhausting.

2. I have a long way to go on my own faith journey. I tend to complicate my faith too much. Maybe this is a product of my decision to make theology a large part of my own education, and as a result get lost in what I sometimes call the "head-rosphere," but this weekend helped remind me of the simplicity of our situation: God loves us, all of us, and just wants us to accept a relationship with him.

3. I was affirmed. Standing in a dark gymnasium, alone in the middle of a spontaneously formed, hand-linked circle of 150 people all praying a beautiful song about the unity of God's children, I had a powerful realization.

With the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I had just finished my part of a talk on the subject of "God's Love." Now, I figure I've probably given nearly 40 talks at retreats over the past eight years, but never before had I attempted to place words on something so immense. Hours before, my stomach was in knots. I had to leave dinner, stepping outside into the cold night to ease my nerves.

But when it was my turn to speak, when the words I had labored over started to flow, I felt as if it was no longer me speaking. It felt natural. I truly felt a hand on my shoulder. In some way, what was coming out of my mouth was even new to my own ears. I've had this sensation of being surprised by what I was saying a few times before, but never before had I felt I was actually lifted above myself.

So as I stood alone in the middle of that circle, sweat falling down my forehead, I smiled and even laughed a little. The experience of talking about God's love had in some way brought exactly that closer to me. At that moment, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

Even though this retreat wasn't sponsored by my job, the parallels are both obvious and affirming. I constantly have opportunities to do similar things on retreats and prayer services at school. A week from now I'll spend four days, "on the clock," with 55 students and four faculty members at a Kairos retreat--a powerful getaway regarded a favorite hang-out of the Spirit.

My vocation as a teacher and campus minister wasn't the only thing affirmed last weekend. My vocation as a child of God, humbled and awed by His love, also got a little amplification, a little spiritual gasoline.