A butter knife, a hockey stick, and an empty cross.

I love my job.
It is so much more than just a job for me.
It is my life.
It is my heart.
These teenagers... they are my life... my heart.
I laugh with them, cry with them, hurt for them, pray for them.
They occupy my thoughts, my prayers, my plans for the future.


We do real youth ministry here.
And I gotta tell you, real ministry doesn't always happen inside the church walls.
It isn't always happy victories, and funny stories.
Sometimes it's downright messy, heartbreaking and brutal.
But it's real.

Javier and I both spend an immense amount of time with these kids within the church walls at events, services, youth group, Bible studies, counseling, and when they just wander into our offices after school.

But we also spend a ton of time outside the church walls.... whether it's at an organized event off site, an impromptu movie, a lunch at school, a football game, or when we see them walking down the street and stop to have a conversation. We live life with them. It's a wonderful thing when you realize that as much as you have invested in their lives, they want you to be a part of them. We often get invited to performances, birthday parties, graduation parties, and even occasionally, family events.

We give rides to kids from one place to another, even if we aren't staying at either place, because some of the BEST ministry happens on that car ride.

These kids are really what we live for. Their hearts... their souls... that's why we do what we do.

I firmly believe that because of those things, the teens are open and honest with us. We don't walk away from difficult situations, and when we are confronted with conflict, we work through it with the teens. That is part of the importance of what we do: teaching these kids to deal with things... to do the right thing even when it's hard... to confront things head on and trust God to take care of us.

I really debated whether or not to post this, because it is difficult and messy, and not like the funny stories I usually post. But my heart is aching... breaking... for some of my students. For those of you who read this and are in youth ministry, maybe this can be an encouragement to you. For those of you who aren't, please pray for those that are.

Last Wednesday night in the middle of youth group, we had a breakdown. One of my boys came to me and said, "Diandra, the girls are in the bathroom crying, and they won't come out." So I went to the bathroom and sure enough, three of my girls were crying hysterically. They tried to explain to me what was going on, but I could hardly understand their broken words through the sobs. Finally I pieced together what was going on. The girls were having a feud with another girl in their class and had broken into her house with a butter knife and taken a bunch of her clothes. Now the police were looking for them, and they were scared.

I quickly ushered them into my office and called Javier. After speaking with the girls, he and I stepped out of the office and started discussing our options. Then we made the most difficult decision we've had to make since starting youth ministry. We needed to call the police. We went back into the office, told the girls what we were going to do, and then prayed with them. We told them to be honest and to do the right thing. They agreed. Then the police came. They spent quite a while questioning each of the girls individually. I spent every ounce of energy I had trying not to cry.

When they were done questioning the girls, the police called the girl whose stuff had been stolen. We all expected her to press charges, and the girls were facing some major consequences if she did. But she just wanted her stuff back, and she decided not to press charges. So the police took our girls with them to get the stuff and return it, and deliver the girls into the hands of their parents.

As we watched the police cars drive away, I broke down. I cried. Hard. I knew that the girls were going to be okay, I knew that they'd learned a valuable lesson, and I knew that God had done a miracle and showed them grace in all of it. But I still cried. Because sometimes youth ministry is messy. Sometimes it hurts. And that night was the hardest in the history of my youth ministry... until this week.

We have a pretty large group of teens. They come from all different walks of life, all of them have different family dynamics, many of them are different ethnicities, and they're at all different stages of spiritual growth. For the most part, the kids put their differences aside, and we have a pretty successful meshing of teens. But on Wednesday night, these differences became evident.

Before youth group, there was an exchange of words between a few of the kids when one of them was cussing and another asked him to stop. One of our wonderful leaders, Shannon, was able to calm them down and talk them through it. They were seemingly okay and were told to stay away from each other for the rest of the evening. We had a wonderful service, and God really moved. After everything was broken down and put away from the service, the kids were hanging out.

The boy that had told the other to stop cussing (we'll call him Scott) was playing basketball. All of the sudden, another boy that had been involved in all of this (we'll call him Eric), came at Scott with a hockey stick. He hit him in the back of the head so hard that the top of the hockey stick broke off. Scott went down. Eric continued to beat him with the wooden handle of the hockey stick. Javier ran at him yelling, and it apparently scared Eric enough that he dropped the hockey stick. Javier grabbed him and held him so he couldn't move. Shannon rushed to Scott and held his head to stop the bleeding, and I called 911. Then the chaos ensued.

Scott was rushed to the hospital, and was later released with 7 staples in his head, damage to his ribs, and a whole lot of bruising. He could have been killed. God definitely protected him. Eric was picked up by the police and taken to a juvenile detention center. He will have to appear before a judge.

Many of our teens witnessed the whole thing, and were scared and shaken. Youth group is a safe place for them... a refuge for many of them whose family lives are crazy and miserable. But their sense of security was shaken.

So was mine.

I am a girl. I am an emotional girl. Not only that, but I genuinely, honestly LOVE my kids. All of them. Even when they make bad choices. So my heart was broken. I held it together until the kids were gone, and then I cried.
I cried for Scott, and for his family and his pain.
I cried for Eric... for his soul, for his anger, for his hurt.
I cried for my kids... for the impact I knew this had had on them.
And I cried, because it was hard.

Sometimes youth ministry is hard. Sometimes it is ugly and scary and real.
The good news is, as my dad always says, the only battles we lose are the ones we don't fight.

Friday night, we sat down with a small group of the teens to talk through the situation. Scott was there. Eric was not. Another kid was also there... the one who had been cussing in the teen room. At the end of the time, our teens had grown closer together in this, and decided that they were not going to let Satan win this battle. Scott and the other teen hugged. They laughed together. They put the past behind them... all 3 years of it... and decided to start fresh and allow God to use them. They no longer wanted the hurt, anger, and frustration.

I pray for Scott.
I pray to God that he still loves Jesus.
I pray that he learns through all of this.
I pray that my teens will surround him with Christ's love.
I pray for forgiveness... for restoration.

I serve an AWESOME God.
A God of new beginnings.
A God of love and forgiveness and faithfulness.
A God that is there, even when it is hard, and even when I can't do it alone.
I am so thankful that I don't have to do it alone... that my God is with me every step of the way.
I am thankful that all of my teens are alive and healthy.
I am thankful that God can take what Satan meant for evil and use it for good...
For GREAT!

Sunday was Easter.
My God is not held by a cross and 3 nails.
My God is not held by a tomb.
My God keeps His promises.

We had a baptism service and baptized 6 of our teens (more about that in another blog).
I was reminded of God's promises...
As my teens stood one by one and read testimonies for their friends, and as others joyfully stepped into that baptismal, I was reminded that God loves them more than I do. That as I sat crying that Wednesday night, God cried harder. It hurt him more than it hurt me. He loves them so much that He DIED for them. On a cross. And then He rose!

So in the midst of the trials... of the difficulties, I am joyful in knowing that God wins.