Connecting Generations

I mentioned last week that I was writing for another blog--that blog is published by the Joel Comiskey Group, which is a global cell church ministry resource.  For the month of May, they are focusing on children and youth in cells, and Joel asked me to write about our experiences with intergenerational cell groups, which we call LIFE groups.  I figured that at least this first one might be of interest here as well, since it falls in line with the "story" theme--just not as personal as some future ones might be!

What does it mean to have an “intergenerational” model of ministry?  At our church in York, PA, we’ve been pursuing an answer to that question for nearly fifteen years.  Like all people everywhere, we tend to gravitate toward others that are most like us.  Teens with other teens.  Young married couples with other young married couples.  Retirees with other retirees.  Left-handed slow pitch softball players with other left-handed slow pitch softball players.  Mixing things up never happens naturally.

However, we noticed a problem.  The young married couples had questions and problems that were very typical for young married couples: How do I decide on a house to buy?  When should we start trying to have a family?  When am I old enough to start playing slow pitch softball?  And so, they asked others in their community.  Predictably, they had no good answers.  So, they pooled their ignorance and made the best decisions they could.  Meanwhile, as the group of retirees connected with one another, they discovered that while they had a lot of answers, none of them really had any questions.  What was more, when they simply talked to one another and compared aches and pains and the current ailment of the day, they found that they didn’t have the energy to even ask questions.  Or, for that matter, to play slow pitch softball.

When we made the initial transition from a program-based church to a cell church, we made the determination that our cells would be intergenerational.  I’d love to say that it was a wise, well-thought out decision with deep theological grounding, and it’s not that theology wasn’t considered.  However, we had a bunch of kids and we needed to do something with them.  Intergeneration cells answered the question; and in the past fifteen years, we’ve seen an incredible blessing for our children (more on that next week).  But we quickly discovered that intergenerational cells were not simply a strategy to care for children!  With an intentionally integrated community, young adults had older men and women speaking wisdom into their lives.  Children suddenly had multiple adopted grandparents who loved and cared for them.  The energy of young lives was somehow infused into an older generation.  Teens were no longer simply being mentored by a youth sponsor; they were being invested in by an entire family.  Single men had a family to eat dinner with; widows had companionship; empty-nesters had children running through their living rooms again, which they could send back to their homes when they were ready to enjoy their hard-earned peace and quiet.  And there were great crowds at the slow-pitch softball games.

I’d love to say that once established, maintaining intergenerationality was a breeze, but I’d be lying.  Groups would grow and multiply, and the multiplications looked as though they were divided by age.  Every young adult that walked through the doors of the church would end up in the same group, until there was a five year spread from the oldest to youngest.  But then, a fascinating thing happened: the older groups started asking younger families to join them.  Young groups began recognizing the need for an older generation to speak into their lives.  Slowly, the values changed.  It’s still work, but we all recognize the value of the work.

What’s your story? 

A New Direction

So, if you're following along, you recognize that I once again hoped to write "now and then" when I got back from a trip.  Then, I came home.  Four kids.  My wonderful wife.  A house.  A church full of people that I love and care for.  Preaching deadlines.  Writing deadlines.  And, of course, no more blogs.  That seems to be the story of these things.  In my defense, I've just finished a book that we're using for the current sermon series and will be using in the future as a part of our discipleship track.  Not sure that it's online yet, but soon you'll be able to find a copy of it here.  I also have another blog that I'm writing for, and a deadline for that.

But honestly, travel just seems far more exciting than normal life.  I think about posting, but I'm not sure what to write.  Who wants to know about my day full of meetings, or the trials of moving four kids in any one direction?   I'd do a play by play of the Little League game I'm coaching, but how many times can I write: "Ball Four.  Another walk."  Soon or later it will get old.  We're getting the basement water-proofed as we speak, and while we're genuinely excited by the prospect of usable space downstairs, it doesn't necessarily make for scintillating reading.  More laundry.  More dishes.  Laughter.  Some tears.  Joy.  Boredom, at times, although they seem to be precious few.  We live normal lives, for the most part.  At least, as normal as a pastor married to a part-time dance instructor, part-time horse rider/trainer with four kids eleven and under can be.

So, with some encouragement by my aforementioned wife, I'm going to take this blog a different direction.

Our lives are normal.  The lives of those around us are normal.  But in the midst of all that "normalness" (which I just knew spell check would have an issue with!), there are moments of extraordinary.  Bits of beauty in the midst of the mundane, if you will.  Now and then, those things might happen in our lives.  However, most often, it's in the lives of those around us--those who are a part of this incredible community in York that has become like a family away from home for us.

Someone should tell those stories.  I think about that all of the time as I talk with the people that cross my path each day.  Incredible stories.  Fascinating pieces of grace.  Someone should tell these stories.  And so, I guess I will.  I won't make promises on how often, or how long, or how many--but I'll try.  I'll do my best to honor my friends by telling their stories with grace.  Of course, I'll only tell stories with permission, and when necessary, I'll change names to protect the innocent and the guilty.  However, finally, the stories can be told.  And if anyone's interested, I suppose I'll tell some more.  There's certainly a lot of us out here in York, and that means lots of stories to tell.