A post-Easter Reminder about supporting the Adolescents in our lives

The Struggle is Real: 

A Post-Easter Reminder about how to best support the Adolescents in our lives

Rev. Jenny Shultz 

March 28, 2016

“The flashing was a hazy, brazen orange. As if it had been caramelized, and then hung under a tree, the light struggled to illumine its surroundings. The cars stopping, yet unsure of whose turn it was to drive on through…this intersection was an accident waiting to happen. Half awake I managed to roll on to the the next light, remembering that driving was meant for one foot only, and as tired as I was it would do me well to play by the rules. Finally turning into my neighborhood my tiresome eyes were ready to give it up- it was half past 1 (am), all the lights had retired hours ago and only the single street light on the corner reminded me of the day’s events. 

This is ministry, I reminded myself as I climbed the stairs to my front door. This is what I signed up for. And, rather than be resentful, I was painfully aware of the sorrow and trauma that I had left behind, in that upper room…in the world of an adolescent whose darkness was all too real, whose life- to him- was less than enough to fight for. This is ministry. Some days you walk away never knowing what the outcomes will be, sometimes the darkness wins, and HOPE seems too out of reach for some. In this darkness, I can only pray that when Jesus dined that last time in a similar room, tucked away -dim and darkened- that the meal he shared could nourish beyond what my eyes could see or touch.”

         The above is reflection from an experience I had several years ago on a post-Easter evening after having visited with a youth that I was counseling. He had been struggling for weeks with self-worth, with depression and ultimately substance abuse. I think, so often, we as Pastors, as mostly optimistic hopefuls, live in the world of positive-thinking, of churchy phrases and over worn smiles that we often miss the HOPEless when prescribing ways for our congregations to live into the resurrection, to claim the truth that Jesus is ALIVE!  Jesus is Alive, and that is good news for everyone, but there is a loneliness that ensues for some who believe themselves to be outside of the living, or among the walking dead, thus rendering these promises to be out of reach.

I was reminded of this experience, with this particular student, after reading a Facebook post this morning about depression and anxiety and after reflecting on how often I encounter various forms of mental illness, whether it be situational depression, or a diagnosis like bipolar disorder, I thought I might share some of the insights I have gained over the past decade in working with adolescents and their families for whom the struggle is real.  

         Teenagers, probably more than other demographic, due to the complexities of their development, brain chemistry changes, etc. tend to believe the deceptive thoughts that accompany the acute changes in their lives, including: romantic relationship status, friend drama, individual performance- in education, sports, etc., family dynamics, social popularity. They are also deeply affected by more long-term issues such as: body image, changes in family structure, bullying, inclusivity with peers. Some of the things that parents, teachers, friends and mentors hear on a daily basis might include, 

“Nobody understands me”, “Nobody loves me”, “I am fat and ugly; my body is disgusting”, “I will never be as good as…” and for some even, “My life sucks, I have nothing left to live for”.

The question for us is, how can we, the healthy adults in their lives, help them to re-write their personal narratives encouraging a healthy sense of self-worth? Here are some things to consider as we continue to nurture the teens in our lives:

1. Understand that it’s not wait you SAY that matters right now. That’s right. Teens are not looking for another lecture or even an awesome, positive, happy Ted Talk that can change their worlds one word at a time! Though our words are very important and, over the life of one’s relationship, they can have a profound impact on what our teens hear, believe and begin to share in their own places of influence - in the middle of their acute anxiety and places of deep loneliness- we should keep our words to a minimum. Choose familiar phrases and stick with them. I am hear, you are loved, I want to listen.
2. What matters most is our PRESENCE. Too often, parents and adults believe what their teens tell them, like ‘I hate you, I don’t want to be around you, I never want to see you again, You are horrible, Leave me alone”! Of course, it is important to really Listen to what our teens are saying, but more often than not this means listening not only with our ears, but with our memories. These are still our babies! They look, sound and act like hateful, mean, nasty, strangers to us, but deep down they are still as small and fearful and needy of our unwavering love as ever. They are hurting and don’t know what they need, and sure enough don’t want it from parents- However - Don’t underestimate the power of a small gesture. A simple knock on a closed bedroom door and the words “Let me know if you need anything”, a note slid under the door, a text, FB message or email that says “I’m here if you need to talk”, a special homemade treat that embodies your endless love— can go a long way. 
3. Keep it simple. When we see our children hurting, when we know there’s not much we can do to fix it we tend to over-function. That’s right. We might rent an entire restaurant and invite everyone from the middle school in hopes of cheering them up. Wrong. They are not looking to be singled out or for you to orchestrate their social lives for them. Keeping it simple might mean going out to dinner with one friend’s family, of their choice, or providing the space and funds for a 2-3 person sleepover with all their favorites included: ice cream, a movie, and some homemade midnight snacks. 
4. Remind yourself that they don’t need you to be their friend, they need you to be their parent. What does that even mean? Well, some of us need to actually get back to the basics there because we are on the wrong side of that question. Provide safety, security, and basic needs, set appropriate limits and expectations, create room for possibility and nurture an ecosystem of acceptance and challenge. What else? Well, the rest is all extra. Buy them a car when they turn 16? Maybe…depends on your child and your families needs and capabilities. Provide room and space for underage teens to drink and smoke in your basement? No. Really? No. Not ever. If you find yourself unsure of what it means to be a parent or a friend? Ask. Ask lots of people that you know and trust. Together, you’ll figure it out. 
5. Finally, when things are pretty bad, and the basics aren’t working, when depression or something else has all but stolen your child from you- get help. That’s right, not only do our children need to see the best therapist in town, in the state, in the country, parents and adults need help too. Sometimes our over-functioning leads to a depletion of self- of what we have emotionally, spiritually, physically available to support our kids. When that happens, our help becomes less helpful. There is no shame in talking it out, taking time to breathe and think, crying, sharing your worst fears and failures. Nobody is perfect, and the closer we get to accepting our limitations the closer we can get to supporting those in our lives who depend on us. We all need help sometimes. 

Easter Blessings to you and yours! 

Rev. Jenny Shultz

Ash Wednesday, Year B, Feb. 10, 2016

Rev. Jennifer Shultz

February 10, 2016

Ash Wednesday, Year C

Joel 2: 12-17

There it was the high-pitched, monotonous screaming, ringing, growing louder with every stoplight it rolled through, lights flashing and doors flung open, the gurney outfitted  by two EMTs. Their steps were quick and efficient and managed not to validate the urgency of the situation.  One, a tall female with burley features pulled out her clipboard, but took one look at me and decided the questions could wait. The urgent care doctors and nurses scrambling around the crowded room, all 8x8 square feet of it, anxiously trying to console not one, but two mothers assuring us of his health, promising that once we arrived at Duke Sage would be in good hands, that the worst trauma had passed. 

My son, Sage, celebrated his third birthday on January 14, and just two days later on January 16 what started as a normal Saturday for our family with breakfast at Elmo’s & blueberry pancakes, a full day of puzzles, and trains ended with our greatest fear: the mortality of our first-born child in question. When he was first diagnosed with a peanut allergy, the diagnosis had a paralyzing effect, first the threat of alienation ensued as the walls we had so faithfully and carefully built seemed to be collapsing one by one, all around us. First, it was eggs, and then peanuts and then soy, sesame, and finally tree nuts. How could he continue as a normal 2 year-old with playdates and Sunday school, nursery and preschool? Overnights at Grandma’s house to look forward to? How could we ensure our child’s safety when not in our care? 

That Saturday afternoon, taking Sage and Quinn with me, I made a quick stop at Target while Shannon was getting her haircut. Like every toddler I know my son was ravenous and letting me know it. Kicking the cart, doing everything he could to cajole me to get him what he wanted; whatever brightly colored packaged food that caught his eye at the time. I relented and grabbed a box of Lara bars. If you are familiar with these bars they are as healthy as a packaged granola bar can be, including only fruit, nuts, coconut and a few other natural ingredients. In our household we READ labels, and I mean read like a poorly written book that forces you to read between the lines. On this particular Saturday, I grabbed the box, read the label and was assured of my child’s safety. blueberries, vanilla extract, lemon and dates. 

That’s what I read, blueberries, vanilla extract, lemon and dates. 

What my hyper peanut focussed eyes did not read or see on the list of ingredients was cashews. I realized that I had been reading for what was “not” there rather than what was, as I assumed peanuts were the only thing my son would respond with anaphylaxis to if ever exposed.

I was at the customer service check-out line returning a bicycle helmet when his whining and squirming quickly had me reaching for a blueberry larabar. I held it in my hands, quickly unwrapped the blue shiny paper, and handed it to my child who thankfully took a bite, and then another… within seconds I heard it, “The quivering fear in your child’s voice that alarms you that something is not right. “Mommy??” and he began to cough. From that point on the details are blurry and I could honestly live forever without ever replaying them over in my mind… the story unfolded with me stabbing my child with an epi pen in the middle of Target where my son started to go into anaphylactic shock… 

Mortality. Yours, mine, our children’s and grandchildren’s, nieces and nephews, husbands’, wives’ , friends’. This Ash Wednesday the prophet Joel invites us to “return to God with all of our hearts, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning: to rend our hearts and not our clothing, to return to God whose abounding steadfast love awaits us, gracious, merciful, slow to anger… 

Just as the prophet Joel signals the alarm, calling the people of Judah to repent and return to God, in the very next breath he calls them to HOPE depicting a God who is jealous for our affections, hungry for our return, like a mother whose only consolation is the breath upon her son’s lips, the light in his eyes, the love in his sweet soul, the touch of his tiny hands- holding gently to hers. This Mother God is both raging with lust for her children's affections and gracious and plentiful in her abundance from which she will hold our pain. 

One question for us to consider this Ash Wednesday evening is What in our lives is keeping us from returning to God? Surely, we think, one reason is this mortal flesh, this body in which our souls dance from one place to the next, weaving in and out of one another’s lives, never fully capable of living faithfully, but always teetering on the verge of mortality until finally this body is laid to rest in the final hours of our earthly existence. Another reason we keep God at bay is for fear. No, not fear of death as we often think, but rather it is life that we fear, the fear of living. Fear that our mortal lives are actually capable of more than what we are able, willing or brave enough to consider?

Fear. He will threaten and confiscate much of what our subconscious harbors behind closed doors, and between the lines. He, like a masked man lurking in the shadows, will invite us at every turn to abandon our beliefs, moving farther and farther from the truth as we yield ourselves to the perceived trauma that we are somehow convinced is awaiting us around every corner. Fear has a way of dismantling our foundations those things most grounding and stabilizing in our lives, bleeding our egos one quick glance in the mirror at a time. With bullet-proof vests and a quick getaway always on the ready, fear clothes us with the illusion that safe keeping comes at a high cost, that anymore than superficial engagements or half-honest relationships spell ruin and almost certain calamity, so fear with the promise of life-long partnership quarantines our spirits- leaving us free from defecting yet unwinding, ungrounded, unmistakably hollow, wanton, and laden with the burden of guilt-stained abandonment. The abandonment of our own kindredness, of the likeness peering back at us through the mirrors of our lives. Fear seeks to convince us that life is as we know it and nothing more; That what we see in this flesh and bone is all there is, brittle and used up, broken, slow and out of sink, out of step, out of style, that the visage most known to us is either tinted too much or too little in the wrong direction.

Friends, as we consider our own moralitly this evening, our life, our breath, our death, let us look upon one another with grace that we might see our own faces, our own souls, our own selves reflected there and as we do may we understand more fully what it is to rend our hearts before God. Beginning on this Ashen evening, let us move one step closer to Jesus allowing the fullness of Jesus’ love to spill into us, the only love that can truly wreck us, dissolve our brokenness and piece it back together, ashen cross by ashen cross, one long look in the mirror after another. I know I will seek to move more closely to my Mother God this season, the gracious Mother who is ready to receive me with abounding steadfast love, ready to look into my eyes, saying, “it is not your fault, you are forgiven, I am here to hold your pain.” This God will will cradle our insecurities and breathe courage and comfort into our darkest places where fear has taken residence. May we move one step closer to Jesus who, like none other, understands what it is to be housed in these our bodies of flesh and bone.

As we move into our time of prayer, I invite you to hear these words from fellow UCC Minister Michael Coffey: Ash Thursday:

He did the yearly black solemn ritual

and got smeared  and humbled though he

didn’t like it much with the flecks falling down

in his eyelashes and the soul’s grief exposed so

He got home and stared at his conundrummed face

for five minutes give or take in the bathroom mirror

it wrecked him to be so humiliated, so mortified

he washed away the ashen cross and dreamed of dying

He woke up Thursday and after peeing and scratching

looked in the mirror and there it was like a Mardi Gras drunken tattoo

his forehead graffitied, black, sooty,

haunting him he wore it all day like an unbandaged wound

At bedtime that night he washed and slept like a storm-tossed boat

woke up to his sunrise reflection, his sleet eyes squinted

again it was back, his skin tagged with midnight streaks

and he walked the day mortal through to his marrow

After that first Ash Thursday and Ash Friday

and Ash Tomorrow, Ash Next Week

Ash March, Ash Autum, Ash Solstices

never a day went by when he didn’t see it, let it have its way

Never a day went by thereafter that he didn’t

rise to bless himself with Wednesdays words:

remember you are dust and to dust you shall return

and every day then on he was his free earthy self until he died

Let us pray:

Leaving Jesus Behind, Dec. 27, 2015

Luke 2: 41-52
Rev. Jenny Shultz
United Church of Chapel Hill

I am sure that many of you here have seen the movie “Home Alone?” Where McCaully Culkin plays a pre-teen boy whose family decides to travel to Paris for the Christmas holiday, and accidentally leaves him at home alone. In the movie, it’s not just the boy and his parents, but they are traveling to Paris with lots of extended family: aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, and parents… We can probably all recollect, at one time or another, having been part of a large family gathering; maybe not our own families, but a spouse's, or a friends’ family. Basically, the more people involved, the more moving parts, the more noise, the more needs, the more wants, the more confusion, clutter and chaos.  It’s great to spend time with family over the holidays, but let’s face it it’s not entirely unrealistic that a parent might leave the house without one of her rugrats in tow. This has yet to happen to me, and I pray it never does, but I have empathy for those parents for which this is close to home! I will never forget two different times when I was left behind by my parents’ well, my dad.  My father took my older brother and I on a fishing trip when we were 6 & 8 years old.. I fished for about 30 minutes and then got bored of staring at the orange ball floating atop the water, so I wanted to play. He told us to stay close to a large particular rock while he fished alongside the river bank...but then I lost sight of him, and it grew began to grow dark, and it got darker and darker…he says that he forgot about us- clearly, and while the sun was setting he realized he’d need to get back to the truck and suddenly remembered he wasn’t alone! The second time I was left at church after an evening meal, again, by my father and it was only when he made it home to my house that my mother asked of my whereabouts that he realized, once again, that he hadn’t gone to church alone?!!

So, when reading Luke’s story today, I felt like Jesus and I had something in common! I believe we find Jesus, a pre-pubescent teenage boy, in the temple not just because it was the time to assert his independence and reveal his exceptional relationship to God, but because he got lost in the shuffle between Mary, Joseph and the extended family caravan on the way back home from Jerusalem. Perhaps he had an almost 3 year-old cousin, who goes by the name Sage, who was driving him absolutely mad, so he lingered behind a while hoping to escape a day’s journey of 1000 questions (Jesus, where are you going? What are you doing? Are you gonna play with me?  What’s that? Are you gonna play with me? What’s in my diaper? Are we there yet? Are you gonna play with me?”  or it’s entirely possible that over the years (having been at the Passover festival each year since his birth) he had met a young man or woman that caught his eye with whom he longed to spend more time with, and so wanted to hang out a little longer. Or maybe it’s as simple as Jesus being the precocious child that he was went quickly to the place he knew he would be we received and could show off a little. When he got lost, wandered off, got left behind, however we interpret it, when he realized that the family mob had left without him he went to a familiar place.  Luke tells us two times in verses 41 & 42 that this was a faithful family, who attended the festival every year, that this was their usual practice. Jesus probably didn’t feel lost or abandoned, but felt at home in the temple, so regardless of the reason for skipping out on the family reunion it makes sense that he would end up there.

So, why include this periscope at all, then? Between the time of his circumcision and his baptism this is basically the only story that exists in the gospels about Jesus. Number one, I think it knits the story together well as it brings flesh and bone to the divine, a human agenda alongside a Messianic call, and reveals the everyday messy life of this holy family. Secondly, Luke’s brilliant literary technique brings credibility to this holy story drawing us into two worlds, of classic themes from ancient literature as well as ordinary familial motifs that establish both Jesus and his family as having similarities to other ancient heroes such as Cyrus, the King of Persia; Pythagoras, the famed Greek philosopher; and even young Moses of the Hebrew scriptures. Luke further aligns this new testament story with an historically rich Jewish one with the story of Hannah and Samuel, a barren mother calling out to God, and a devoted child living in the temple as an act of redemptive grace and allegiance to God. So in true Lukan fashion, he’s painted a broad stroke picture for us, establishing Jesus’s credibility, as well as guiding our understanding of this particular text in the entirety of the narrative. 

There are numerous interpretations of this text and many of them focus on the “coming of age” theme, where Jesus is beginning to separate himself from his earthly parents to begin to testify to the divine wisdom that he has been given as God’s son. This interpretation quickly lends itself to a focus on the parent/child relationship and the anxiety that typically accompanies this developmental transition period for all involved.

I think there is great merit in highlighting such implications as we are never fully developed, we never reach a maturation level that frees us from the complexities of renegotiation: in relationships, in physical and mental capacity, in the emotional journey that begins as we travel the birth canal entering, into new life where all is celebrated and made complete, one year after another, until that completeness becomes feeble- and feared… and the wisdom and integrity that accompanies age is slowly siphoned off, and replaced, again, with what is new, young and celebrated.

When I first read Luke’s words in preparation for today I heard an audible plea, a groaning…from parents far and wide, and maybe even a distant cry from the divine mother herself. But This text is not merely about Jesus, about the significance of his notoriety as a well-advanced Jewish student among his peers and temple leaders, about his very typical relationship to his parents, or even more simply about a foreshadowing of the pascal events to come. This text, though I think we can still find meaning in each of these interpretations, is not really about Jesus at all. It has more to do with the societal structures in place that either feed or inhibit our ability to recognize the divine in our midst. The awe and wonder which accompanies the mystery of this small boy’s understanding, the divine renegotiation that takes place within each of us as we learn to cradle the babe born in the manger both within ourselves and within that which is beyond our understanding; stretching our capacities for compassion, forgiveness, and completeness. 

This pre-teen boy, left “home alone” per se is the story of our lifetimes, and ironically the story of our beloved hand-crafted, pew-painted, freedom born white Church… we will not only be caught leaving the house without our Jesus’s with us, we will leave him time and time again, in the manger, in the bedroom, in the closet, in our lockers, at the border, in picture books and red-lined lettered stories, in nicely decorated sanctuaries and cemeteries, We will even leave Jesus in the mirror . We will leave our white Jesus hanging upon our white walls, we will even leave our Jesus in the mail, on paper, in plastic, on a mug, at the altar, cast in our own likeness. Perhaps up to this point we have managed not to leave our children on large rocks near a river while casting our nets wide, but without a doubt we could be here all night narrating one another’s failed attempts at keeping Jesus in sight, of speaking his language of love and grace, of expecting the power of the incarnational experience to transform our lives.  About Luke’s story of the young and confident Jesus, Theologian Wes Avram says “[At 12 years old] Jesus is not only listening and learning; he is engaging and responding in rabbinic fashion. He is Teacher. Then when he is recognized again by John and by the Spirit, he is Son of God. He is first recognized as the one who fulfills the promise as Messiah. He is then seen as the one who interprets the promise as Rabbi. He is then anointed as the one who enacts the promise as God’s son.

So while acknowledging the power of the incarnation to transform and transfigure, having just celebrated this holy infestation of the soul on Christmas Day Luke positions this story as a follow-up to the completeness found in the birth of Christ as a reminder that we, in relationships, to Jesus, to God, to one another, are in constant need of renegotiation. 

Whether you carry Jesus with you wherever you go and understand him to be teacher, Son of God and Rabbi - or whether the white walled white faced Jesus has left you wondering whether you want anything to do with this young hero of old, do not leave the baby in the manger this Christmas season. Crowd around, and stay awhile… take the ornaments off the tree, put the lights back in their boxes, and the wrapping paper back in the attic, carry the tree to the curb and then sit awhile at the manger. The shepherds have sheep to tend to, Mary and Joseph obviously have other plans… so stay and sit a while...just you and Jesus. I think you’ll find that even though we as Americans fear failure and disappointment almost as much as anything that the risk associated with picking the baby up is incomparable to that of walking away from the manger- remaining in the pew, a passive onlooker, a bystander, afraid of renegotiating the terms of relationship, of life’s biggest and hardest questions, of faith.

There has never been a time where the call to renegotiate the terms of our covenant has been more clear. We, the church, must recognize the drunkenness of the past, the sins of the white-walled Jesus days and look more closely at our likeness, pick-up the Jesus whose Jewish heritage incorporated most of us sitting here today into the story of an Abrahamic God, whose Mosaic law led to the deliverance of a people who found themselves “home alone”, wandering a desert in search of their “home”. This Jesus, my friends, this Jesus is never home alone when we allow the Christ child to be birthed within us, to be home for the spirit of the other, to live as a lifeline for those seeking refuge and solace, to provide space for those who have no home to share in the mystery of the manger not only during this holy season of Christmas, but each night as the light of Christ continues to guide us on our way. 

May we continue to make room for Jesus in our lives, and live more fully into our call as co-creators and avenues of peace and hope for an orphaned world. Amen.