“You might not believe in God, but God believes in you.”

We’re pleased to introduce Maggie Nancarrow as a monthly contributor to the PYM blog. Maggie is a graduate of the University of Chicago Divinity School, and a lifelong Episcopalian. She currently serves as Youth Director and Communications Director at a progressive United Methodist Church in the Twin Cities. Her passion is helping congregations find great ways to live out their faith as real members of their community, including the young people and their families. She blogs at maggienancarrow.com.

At the United Methodist Church where I work, our confirmation class culminates in a youth-led worship service where our soon-to-be new members give statements of faith, little sermons on what they believe about God.

One of our confirmands was really struggling with this. At first I thought she was paralyzed by stage fright, until I read the statement, and realized that she was about to tell the whole church that she didn’t really believe in God. She was going to get confirmed anyway, because she trusted the community she was a part of. She was about to tell the whole church about the biggest leap of faith of her life.

She was scared shitless, and when I realized what I was putting her through, I was too. This was my first confirmation class. I myself hadn’t been confirmed as a teenager, having been in exactly the same boat that she was. I had no idea what to say to her, but what popped out of my mouth was this:

“You might not believe in God, but I know that God believes in you. And you don’t have to tell the whole truth if you don’t want to.”

That Sunday, Isabel didn’t end up telling them the whole truth, but she made it clear that she had doubts. At coffee hour, and for weeks to come, I heard nothing but praise for her bravery. The adults who heard her statement of almost-faith were so impressed, so humbled by her wrestling. Her leap of faith had inspired them. They told her so, too.

For me, this is what youth ministry is about: telling our kids that God believes in them—loves them more than they can even fathom. It’s about mobilizing the whole church to do the same: showing them that they have a place in God’s work of resurrection, both in their own church communities, and in the wider world.

As a progressive Christian, my faith is a faith in the power of resurrection, the power of God’s crazy decision to make death null and void, to make new things out of ashes. When I look around at mainline, pseudo-progressive churches in America, I see a lot of loss, a lot of confusion—a lot of ashes—but more than that, I see new growth popping up. I see resurrection for a failing church in America, and when I live into my role as a youth minister, that’s what I focus on.

I see my job as helping teenagers to see God’s power of resurrection working through them.

Some of it is about the logistical stuff: giving them a language of faith that can express what they know to be true about their lives, or fun and dorky facts about the Bible, or just teaching them the stories that we use to talk about our relationship with our God.

Some of it is about the relational stuff: how to pray, and see God at work in the world, in one’s life, and in others.

Some of it is love of neighbor stuff: cooking food and serving it to the homeless, giving pan handlers some toothpaste on the side of the street, or learning about the evils of systemic poverty.

But what all that comes down to, really, is getting our kids involved in the revolution of God, the wild ride that our whole Christian community is undergoing, as we try to reinvent the church in the 21^st century. For me, my role as youth minister is about helping the kids, and helping the whole congregation, to embrace and empower the work that God does through these amazing young people.

Maybe it’s Isabel, showing the whole church that it’s okay to be unsure. Maybe it’s Ricky, who had an idea to buy can openers for homeless youth, or maybe it’s Georgia, who signs up to serve communion whenever she can.

I have never had a more fulfilling job. I love my church. I love these kids. I love the God that put me here at this time and place, and I’m onboard for this wild, unpredictable ride towards resurrection for the whole Church.