There is nothing that irritates me more than the fatuous belief that the “kids are all right.” No moral decline is so great that somebody, somewhere, will not proclaim “the kids are all right” and compare the real degeneracy to the antics of their youth down by the soda fountain. “Our folks worried about us,” they chortle from their wheel chairs, “and now Reynolds is worrying about this generation.” This is as if the moral degeneracy of Bing’s music can actually be compared to that of Miley Cyrus.
Kids that shoot people at church are not all right.
Kids that are depressed and suicidal are not all right.
Kids given no parenting and no education are not all right.
Many kids are not all right.
But the Crump is sort-of-right: some kids are all right.
I was on a flight today with a large youth group headed off to do ministry in a Central American nation. They were diverse, excited, and serious about their purpose. As the old guy in a suit, I enjoyed the chance to watch them get ready to serve.
And I was reminded in the horrors of terrorism in Charleston, Damascus, and Paris that some of the kids are great, just as I hope a few fifty-somethings are all right. There is no greater sign of danger than when somebody keeps talking about “the young people” (or the “old people” or “Gen-Race” or the “liberals”) as if millions of people can be captured in generalizations.
These were young people fired up about Jesus, generally socially conservative, and intent on serving. They were a laughing, cheerful group that did not seem segregated by race or class. They were polite and happy to share about their lives and mission. What was not to like?
I have no doubt that if I knew them better they would have faults, but I was hungry and they offered me food. I watched one young lady open a note from her mother on the plane and say “she is wonderful” about her mother and then shared the sweetness of it with her pastor. These kids are o.k.
What can I say? I am an incurable optimist. If these young adults exist, and they do, somebody is doing something right. I am sure the evils of our age tempt them and more than a few will do . . . poorly . . . before doing better (as we all have done), but why not, for one moment, celebrate that I am on a plane full of kids who are spending their summer helping build houses for people who need houses.
I know. I know.
Short term missions trips to my own home town were often more trouble than they were worth to us. Except the young adults that met my scintillating father and mother could never look on Appalachians as simply culturally deprived. The students were changed and, given where they came from, this did us some good long term. There was a few more New Yorkers who would be less bigoted toward West Virginia. I know these kids will experience the same thing. They will break certain bubbles, make certain friends, and see the world as a different place. They will not love their country less, but they will love the humans of the Earth more. Oh, yes, a few houses will be built.
Great good, little harm, God bless them.
Why do I seldom see these stories? When I sat down the pastor said, “Watch out for these two . . . ” a young couple so cute they could give you sugar shock. Why not celebrate their youth, their enthusiasm, their jolly American goodness? These are children (and they are still children) who will not shoot other people or hate their neighbor. They have moral values, but they do not wish to impose them by tyranny on other people.
If you are tired, weary, and have given up on the West of the World as I am sometimes tempted to do, listen to a few actual young folk, ask them questions, enjoy their energy, if not their wisdom, and be cheerful. “You have to be happy with God to be happy with yourself,” one student said to me and this is true. This is true from Aristotle to John Locke to this cheerful, American-as-the-flag youngling who will inherit a world that is messy, but that is still God’s world.
Some of the kids are all right, so I am sorry Miss Crump.
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