The first academic year of my three-year-degree is over, and it is [almost] a year since I became a Student Youth Worker. What a year it's been. There have been struggles and triumphs, leaving people and meeting people, coming and going, celebrations and laments.

Usually at this time of year, I'm preparing to move onto something new, and I'm saying my goodbyes. In 2016, I left high school, in 2017 I left a youth work placement, and in 2018 I left a second youth placement, and Youth For Christ's gap year program, The Year Out. It feels strange that I'm not saying 'goodbye' to anyone or anything this year. It's a new feeling; I like it. 

The past year has been a season of process. I've learnt lessons from university, work placement, those around me and through scripture and spending time with God. However, I feel like there's so much more to learn. I feel that I'm learning, rather than have fully learnt. Here are a couple of those things:

1. Progress not perfection.
It's okay for something to be fine, rather than perfect. This year, I've had really good marks on my assignments; the lowest being 62% and the highest being 73%. Last term, I wasn't confident on my essay titles and, without really noticing or identifying what I was doing, I pressured myself, thinking the essays had to be perfect. I read through and read through what I had written, and it just made me think "this isn't good enough" even more, until I eventually realised that it's about progress, not perfection. Everything I do, create, make, lead, live, doesn't have to be perfect. 

2. Allow people to care.
Over the last year, and especially over the last month, I've felt so wrapped up in the arms of people's genuine care. People have supported me, opened the doors of their home to me, encouraged me, listened to me. Allowing people to care for you doesn't mean that you can't do it on your own, but sometimes it's easier, lighter, more joyful, if you pass things over to someone else.
I said to someone earlier this year, "I don't want to burden you" and they replied that they want to carry my burdens. I thought that was the most powerful and Jesus-like thing to say. 

3. Breathe
'What do you mean, you've learnt to breathe this year, Rebecca? How have you gone nineteen years without breathing?' 
When life is chaotic, sometimes I feel like I'm doing the day-to-day without breathing; without coming up for air. I do this job, tick it off the list, go there and have a meeting, make this, write that, plan a session, speak to her, cook this, clean that, walk there, meet them. Sleep. Repeat. This year I've learnt the power of coming up for air, of taking just a minute or two out to breathe. As you breathe steadily in and out, list five things you see around you, four things you physically can feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell and one thing you can taste. Breathe. 

4. I am valuable for who I am, not what I do. 
I can create the best session plan, write the best essay, lead the best all-age talk, wash up all the cups and plates at Toddler Group, be really 'on it' at Youth Cafe. But that's not where my value lies. My value lies in who I am, not what I do. 

5. There's always tomorrow, and there's always more grace.
Very few things are so urgent that they can't wait until tomorrow. If you can't get everything done today, move it to tomorrow, where there'll still be grace. If everything is going wrong, wait for tomorrow, where there will be more grace. 

The words below are the lyrics to Hillsong's 'Never Alone'. I hope they bring light to you, I hope they speak truth over the lies that you're alone. 

I went to a barbecue this week with friends. It rained, of course it did, it’s British summer time, but that didn’t stop us from having a really great time. After we had all eaten, there was a small huddle of friends sat by the chiminea, toasting marshmallows. There was a bigger huddle around a small table, laughing as they played Bananagrams. Not taking part in either of the huddles, I stood to take it all in, and smiled.
By then end of the evening, there were twelve of us around a table that seats six, all playing Bananagrams, laughing, joking and definitely not cheating…
The evening had a community-feel to it, and I felt so content. It got me thinking about contentment, relationship and community. 

To be content has been my prayer recently. I’m not asking to be joyful everyday, but to be content with what I have, with where I am, and when the rain comes - literally and metaphorically.

​
I think I’m most content when I have company, when I’m in community. I’m beginning to learn more and more that I’m such a relational person, I’m an extroverted-introvert. Although my ‘batteries are recharged’ by spending a couple of hours on my own, gathering my thoughts and resting, I’d rather be spending all the other hours with people. I don’t mind if we go out and do something, or we just ‘do life’ together, but I’m too relational to spend too much time alone.
About a month ago, I went to a colleague/friend’s house because I needed help with preparations for a Youth weekend away in the Summer. I ended up staying for the whole morning, and for lunch too - not working, but just chatting and 'being'. It was half-term, and it was one of the best days of the break. We didn’t really do anything, but just doing life another person brings me joy.


I think that’s the way that God made us to be: relational. We are relational beings because we are made in His image and He is relational. A perfect example of this is the trinity - the three persons of the trinity live in perfect relationship with one another.


God said it Himself, “it is not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). We often read this when preaching about singleness and marriage, but I think it’s just as an important message when it comes to community with one another. It is not good for us to be alone. We were made to be in relationship with one another. So let’s do it more often!


It’s a denominational stereotypical joke that Baptists are good at ‘Bring and Shares’. The Church I worship and work at regularly hold Bring and Share lunches, and there’s always plenty of food! I like to think that it’s not just food we’re bringing and sharing, it’s ourselves. It’s our heaviness and our joy. If you’ve read my blog post ‘Settled’, you’ll know that it wasn’t easy for me to find my feet. But I never feel as at home and part of a community, part of a family, more than when we all sit around tables to eat lunch with one another.

Mondays' are hopeful days. They're fresh starts. You can let go of the heaviness of the week before, breathe, and step forward into a new week of possibilities. 

I'm learning that it doesn't have to be a new week, a new academic year or a new calendar year to have a fresh start. 
I'm learning that if I've had a couple of bad days, I don't have to keep walking in darkness, waiting for the best time to have a fresh start. 
When everything is a bit darker, a bit heavier and takes more effort, when one thing goes wrong after the other, when I'm alone, I'm learning to breathe.
​I'm learning to stop, breathe, ask for help, and take some time out to practice mindfulness, or to create something for me, or to just simply rehydrate or go for a walk. I'm learning. 

Last week, I waked around with a rain cloud over my head for a couple of days. I could tick off all my 'warning signs of a mental health flop'. Looking back now that the sun is shining, I wonder whether, if I took a few minutes out once I realised it was raining, just by taking some time to breathe, I could have blown the cloud away. Maybe not completely, but maybe enough to see a bit of sun again.

In church, we often refer to ‘mountain top moments’ and ‘being in the valley’. If you’re not familiar with this language, being on the mountain top means to be having a really good experience. Perhaps you’re at a summer conference; the sun is shining, the worship is great, you feel the Holy Spirit in every seminar, you have a notebook full of notes from the talk, you’ve bought a load of books that you’re so excited to read, you think, “ah, this is so much better than what’s at home”.  You’re having a mountain top moment.
Being in the valley is the opposite. You can still experience God in the valley, but everything is darker, heavier and harder. Perhaps everything is going wrong, one thing after another, and although you know God is there, you don’t understand what He’s doing and that’s painful.

I think there’s a third ‘place’. I think this third place is one we’re most often at, but gets recognised and appreciated a lot less. This third place is ‘the path of the mundane’. It isn’t the spirit-filled youth event with lots of young people giving their lives to Jesus, but it’s also not when you’re running a youth event that has one problem after another, you’re burning out and can’t see God in the project anymore. The path isn’t always easy, sometimes it’s a bit rocky, a bit steep, sometimes there isn’t enough shade or it rains, but it’s fine. It’s the mundane. It’s the youth group that happens every week that you don’t see anything happening in. That’s not to say nothing is happening, or that it’s going badly, you’re just not seeing it. Or it’s the sermon you give, and you don’t get any response from it. Or it’s just your commute to work, your tidying, your preparing.

I wanted to be a youth worker since I was fourteen years old. I remember the day that I voiced this, and class-mates telling me that it wasn’t a proper job. When I imagined being a youth worker, it included the big events, constant conversation with young people and constantly seeing growth and change. It included only mountain-top moments. I never imagined making 4 mugs of hot chocolate every Sunday evening, or sitting at my desk trying to work out how to print on labels for an entire hour, (and then still getting it wrong). I didn’t imagine finishing youth at 9:30pm and then packing away for a further 45 minutes. None of this stuff is bad or unenjoyable. Okay, maybe the label-printing-mishap was unenjoyable. But it's just the mundane. I didn’t imagine God being in my mundane, because I didn’t imagine having a mundane.

There is so much beauty and so many blessings to be had on the path of the mundane, but it’s like we’re always focusing on the mountain top, desperate not to find ourselves in the valley, that we forget to appreciate the beauty and blessings.
I challenge you to write down three mundane blessings per day for the next week. Found a bargain in wilko? Had lunch out with a friend? Made a nice dinner? Slept well? Checked everything off your to-do list? Had a couple of regulars at your youth group? Had a word that might have been from God? Shared a sermon, made a little mistake, but all-in-all, it went alright? Write it down, recognise it and be thankful.

Imagine this:
You’re walking along on a path. It looks a bit like this:

Above you is the mountain top experience.
Below you is the valley
You’re walking along but your hands are covering your eyes so that you can't see. Little do you know, there are flowers growing out of the rocks beside you. There’s an army of ants working together, carrying leaves so much bigger than they are, just passing you now. The sun has just come out from the clouds. It’s a little steep and there's a big pile of rocks to stumble over, but it’ll get easier soon. Your friend has joined you and put their hand out with a cup of water and a chocolate biscuit. Oh look, a beautiful, big bird has just flown past!

But you’ve got your eyes closed, worried about being back in the valley and expecting the mountain top, that you’ve missed the blessings on the path of the mundane.

As a noun, 'wonder' means to have a feeling of amazement and admiration, caused by something beautiful, remarkable or unfamiliar. As a verb, it means to desire to know something, to feel curious.

Recently, I feel like God is really reminding me about having childlike wonder. Rather than being a blog post of what I think to be all the answers, brimming with my thoughts, it is a blog post with reflective questions and resources such as bible verses and lyrics, to (hopefully) help you gather your thoughts on what Childlike Wonder is.

 There’s a song by Bethel called Wonder, and it’s lyrics are:
May we never lose our wonder
May we never lose our wonder
Wide eyed and mystified
May we be just like a child
Staring at the beauty of our King
(Repeat x3)
Ooooh oh oh
Fill us with wonder
May we never lose our wonder
May we never lose our wonder
Wide eyed and mystified
May we be just like a child
Staring at the beauty of our King
Cause you are beautiful in all your ways
King of Kings
You are beautiful in all your ways
Ooooh
Cause you are beautiful in all your ways
Just close your eyes


The lyrics that really stand out to me are “wide eyed and mystified, may we be just like a child, starring at the beauty of our King”, I think it's a really powerful and inspiring image

Every week I help at the Church’s toddler group, and my favourite thing about it is watching the toddlers, and taking in how they act and what they say. Watching them is like watching tiny wobbly adults; one is sweeping the floor, another is telling her baby doll off, another is sweeping the floor and a fourth is pouring pretend tea for his friends. I often lead the crafts, and some of the children get so excited about stickers, colours, glitter, different types of paper. Even at under the age of five, they all have a story to tell if you’ll listen. A story about why they like the colour pink, or what they did this morning, or their baby brother. Wonder. Everything is exciting. Okay, maybe not during the tantrums or strops… but generally I think children are so full of wonder. Curiosity, as well as amazement and adoration.

A couple of Sunday’s ago, the worship team were on stage as the congregation joined in with sung worship; a hymn followed by a more modern song. Everything was normal, except one little change. One of the children, a five year old, fearlessly joined the musicians on stage for interpretive dance. She smiled as she twirled and clapped her hand on stage. I stood singing with a big smile on my face. I loved watching her so free up there, with not a single care or worry about getting in the way, or not being sure whether she’s allowed, or distracting people, or looking silly. I thought about what Jesus would say or think if He were to walk through our doors. I quickly became certain that He wouldn't tell her to get down for any of those reasons, so why should we? In fact, part of me was slightly envious; envious of that childlike confidence, freeness, surrender and wonder. I was reminded of Matthew 19:14 that says, "Jesus said, "let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these". Based on Matthew 18:3, which says "unless you become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven", I don't think that Jesus meant the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to only those under the age of eighteen. Instead, I think Jesus notices something about children, perhaps their wonder, and encourages the adults listening to him to change and be like children. 

Questions:
How often is your prayer style and life childlike?
How often are you ‘wide eyed and mystified'?
Do you get excited about simple, little blessings like toddlers? 
What's holding you back from experiencing wonder in worship?

Thank you for taking the time to read this blog post. I'd love to know your thoughts on what wonder looks like in your life, or how you could 'have' more childlike wonder.

Many people have had braces of some kind, usually during their teenage years. According to the NHS, a third of children need orthodontic work.  However, it often isn’t work that takes over six years…

I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve felt self-conscious of having braces, or the way my canines stuck out, the way my jaw was different. In the last six years or so, I’ve been likened to a vampire, I’ve been mocked for my lisp that I had, I’ve been called ‘brace face’, and just a few months ago a couple of drunk strangers said “[she’s] got more metal in her mouth than at a scrapyard” as I walked by. I remember at one point I wouldn’t smile in photos because I didn't like my jaw. Instead, I poked my tongue out so that I didn't feel so self-conscious.

At nineteen years old, I am finally finished with braces. As a memoir, I’ve now got TMJD - temporomandibular joint disorder… basically, my jaw locks a lot. I have to repeatedly unlock it in the mornings when I first wake up, then a couple of times during the day, usually when I‘m talking or eating. If I’m ever talking to you and I press my jaw, I’m just unlocking it… as you do…

Finally, I’m saying goodbye to the countless appointments, the moulds that they say taste like strawberry but actually taste like old gum. I’m saying goodbye to the X-rays, feeling self-conscious in photos and when speaking in public, the mouth ache, and the title, ‘brace face’.

Within Church ministry, I think that there seems to be a perception that everyone loves their job all of the time; they settled immediately, they are always inspired and know what they’re doing, and are on fire for what they do. I look at Youth Leaders around me who all seem to know what they’re doing, until you sit down with them and hear that they are in part making it up as they go along. I go to conferences and weekends away, and the main speaker will stand up on stage, introduce themselves, tell the crowd what they do for a living, and it’s almost always followed by, “and I love it” or “and I have a passion for ___”. I don’t for one minute they doubt that they love or have passion for what they do, or think they should stand up and say, “my name is ____, I work for ____ and I cannot wait until my contract is up so I can leave”. However, I think it creates an idea that these big leaders have it all together and always love their job, when I’m sure that they have times of struggle too.

I started my new job as a Student Youth Worker in July, and I only now feel like I’m completely settled. That’s six months later. Perhaps this is normal, but I spent these six months thinking it wasn’t because people in ministry generally don’t openly share the rocky times they have. That’s why I want to share this blog post; firstly to share this big thing that’s been going on with me recently, but also to become more vulnerable, honest and authentic, and to change this perception that everyone in ministry has a smooth road.

I think I struggled in settling so much because I was experiencing so many differences as well as ups and downs in my personal life, and I just couldn’t fix anything. Friends that cheered me on through this asked what they could do to help, and my reply was always “nothing”. I just had to 'wait it out'. I knew I just had to wait it out because I knew this is where God wants me, so this is where I’ll stay.

Everyone at the Church was so lovely in welcoming me. Everyone seemed so excited to have a new youth worker and wanted to know when my university course was starting, if I’ve always lived in the area and generally how I’m doing. And six months on, everyone is just as kind; asking how the youth groups are going, asking if I need anything, asking how university is going. So there wasn’t a problem within the Church that could be instantly fixed with a meeting or telling someone to be kinder or not gossip or communicate better - none of these were problems I was facing. Nobody at the Church I work in should read this and think, “I could have done something more”. This isn’t a blog post to point fingers, since there’s nothing to point fingers at. Everyone did their best and more, and for that I’m truly grateful. 

I had got used to going to Church and it being like attending a big Christian conference every week; loud, coloured lights, base, a mainly millennial congregation of people who raise their hands during worship songs I loved. I moved from that to a Church that was the opposite in many ways. It just didn’t feel like home. I missed the Church I went to, I missed the young people I worked with and I missed my previous line manager line-managing me. 

The more I thought about how I still wasn’t settled, and I was just ‘fine’ rather than ‘happy’, the worse it felt. At one point it became an achievement if I hadn’t cried at work that day. But nobody could fix anything for me, and that’s what made it worse. Nobody could make it any better. Nobody was doing anything wrong. 

I’m now 100% settled, and I find myself telling anyone who will listen this joyful update. So what helped me settled, how did the change come about?…

Cheerleaders
I’m really thankful for the ‘cheerleaders’ I had over these months. 
In late September I met up with two youth leaders/friends/influences separately. I expected the first friend to affirm me and say things like, “I know that you can do this, it’s okay, I love you”. She didn’t. Instead she told me that I’ve got to make a decision about what I do soon and that I “can’t be a Jonah and just run away”. It sounds harsh, but it was the reality I needed to hear.
 I’m the kind of person to really remember words people say over me; good and bad. However, I don’t remember a thing the second friend told me. Not a word. I don’t think this makes it any less significant or helpful at the time because what I do remember is feeling peace, companionship and support, and I think that’s more important than the words that were shared. The continued support from these two people helped; to know that I had people who were for me, who would listen and would practically help me if they could really made the load lighter. 

I also met with a colleague, and I think that was the start of change. Although I had planned to, I never actually said how low I was feeling and how unsettled I was, instead we just chatted over lunch and got to know each other. I was honest about some of the things I was struggling with (like differences in churches and missing the old) but we never really dug deep into that. Without even knowing it, she’s been my biggest cheerleader; really looking after me in every way. That motherly support has given me a sense of belonging.  

Uni was a great cheerleader too. I had had a traumatic driving experience (a story for another day) and I came into uni the following day, already ready to give up. I went to my tutor’s office and had a cry, told her how unsettled I was and there and then she pencilled in a date to come and visit me and my line manager the following week. The fact that she/the university would travel the 166 mile round trip just for a short meeting really blew me away. 

I’m sure that in a couple of months, maybe years, I’ll look back and totally understand why I struggled. But for now, I’m happy in this warm feeling of being settled.