Page 4 of A Surefire Love
“I agree. Pressure’s not the answer.” Eric leaned in like a salesman trying to sell a lemon. “Having fun at all the events instead of just a couple sporadic ones is the key.”
“We do.” Anson’s office was littered with snapshots of grinning students, all taken at various youth group gatherings.
“The dwindling numbers disagree. Something needs to change in a big way to turn this around.”
Discomfort tightened around his neck like a choking hand. “There’s a natural ebb and flow to the numbers. We’re expecting eight to ten students each in Branching Out and Rooted this year, which is only down about two students per youth group from last year.”
“And a few more from the year before that. When there are so few students to begin with, that’s more than a twenty-percent dip.”
“We have large Seedlings and Saplings classes. In a few years, the older groups will be back up.”
“Not if the kids aren’t having fun.” Eric’s cajoling tone did little to blunt his cutting point. “They—and their families—will keep jumping ship.”
Anson crossed his arms and measured his response. “Did the families who left blame the youth group for their decisions to leave?”
“I have students in the youth ministries too, don’t forget.”
His eyes widened before he could school his response. “Dylan and Carter have complained?” The boys were two of his most outspoken students. Anson had been pouring into both for years.
“They didn’t have to. I’ve seen the schedules and heardabout how time is spent at youth group. Most of the night is sunk on dry lessons. They’re kids. If we want them to attend, it’s got to be fun—and not just on special occasions.”
Under the desk, Anson clenched his hand. “On a standard night, the lesson is less than a quarter of our time. Add the small group discussion, and it’s a third of the night. That’s the same format our youth groups have been using since before I was a student here myself.”
“That’s your answer, then. Times have changed. The old way of doing things doesn’t work anymore. Thanks to social media, attention spans are like this.” Eric pinched his index finger and thumb within millimeters of each other.
Anson pressed his mouth shut. The “old way” worked. Dylan had prayed with him to turn his life over to Christ on his second night of Rooted three years ago. Carter kept coming to Branching Out every week, despite rejecting the faith. “I’m not sure where this is coming from. Playing more games won’t accomplish the church’s main mission, which is to share the gospel.”
“I disagree. Not with the overall mission, but with how to accomplish it. The happier youth are, the more their entire families will attend. Then they’ll hear sermons when they’re supposed to. On Sunday mornings.”
“In the main service?”
Eric made a casual sweep of his hand. “And in the class you teach after the sermon.”
“The families who attend those are already committed. Youth group is a chance to speak into the lives of kids at the edge of the faith community. Some of them are dealing with intense issues. They need interactive lessons specific to their experiences and questions.” Conviction powered his voice. These beliefs formed the bedrock of his ministry—his life. “Iwon’t cut back on the gospel to reach an arbitrary numbers goal.”
“Attendance is not arbitrary, and the board agrees. The initiative passed.”
The statement split the bedrock, leaving Anson on one side, the board on the other, and a churning sea of betrayal in the middle. “What is the initiative, exactly?”
“Each youth group needs to double attendance by the end of the semester.”
“Double?” A sucker punch of dismay knocked the word from him. In the five years Anson had worked at Many Oaks Bible Church, they’d never had numbers that high.
“The youth groups at Grace have grown by keeping the kids’ interest and providing a safe place for them.” Eric spoke with the upbeat tone of an infomercial. “Letting them see the gospel lived out instead of hammering them with it. We believe that with the right leadership, Rooted and Branching Out can also reach more youth than ever. The fields are ripe for harvest.”
With the right leadership? Had the board lost faith in Anson? “That harvest is supposed to be souls, not bodies.”
Eric shrugged. “One leads to the other. You have until the end of the fall semester.”
“Or what?”
“The leadership board will step in to ensure this downtrend doesn’t continue.”
“Meaning?”
Eric stood. “It’s time to get serious about reaching more kids.”
Anson rose too. “I’m concerned about reaching the kids we have.”
