This week Pam and I are attending a church media conference in Indianapolis, sponsored by ChurchMedia.net. Pam runs the sound at Anchor, handles DVDs, and often pinch-hits with song slides. I do our websites and Powerpoint slides. The idea of spending time together in a learning environment, particularly when the learning will benefit our church, appealed to us.

The discussion forum at ChurchMedia.net, henceforth to be known as CMN, is known as being technical oriented. This sure came through in their seminars today. The presenters threw around techie lingo with reckless abandon. It’s kind of amusing when people do that. Do they feel a need to impress, or are they just oblivious to the fact that they’re speaking above people’s heads? (In this case, an innocent case of the latter.) They flaunted acronyms, referenced web technologies without explanation, used technical terms as if everybody knew what they meant…you get the idea. My coworkers contend that I do exactly the same thing, with equal oblivion, around them.

Despite our occasional cluelessness, Pam and I enjoyed ourselves and learned some things which may prove useful at Anchor. We attended the same seminar at the end of the afternoon, on “Blogging and Podcasting.” Pam’s been turning Tim’s sermons into MP3 files, and I’m administering five blogs at present. That was a good session. Pam attended sessions on Easyworship and using projectors. My other seminars were on digital photography (a very poor start) and doing websites (ah, now we’re talking my language!).

We’ll go back down tomorrow. The afternoon features two seminars on running sound, so that’s where Pam will be. I’ll take a seminar on using metaphors in worship (try to make that technical!), and I forget what the other two are about. But it’ll be fun. These techies are good guys (and let me repeat: guys). And may I add that they are cheap. They don’t like to spend money, but always recommend open-source software which they can get free. My experience is that open-source software is rarely easy to get up and running unless you’re a techie. Me–I go for user-friendly. I can figure things out, but I’d just as soon not have to.

Meanwhile, some of you are wondering, “What’s open-source software? Why doesn’t Steve explain what he’s talking about?” In my case, I’m just trying to impress.

Pam and I just returned from the church. Actually, from the little house next to the church, which serves as our Friday night youth center. They were having a little party for the two high school graduates. That meant food and cake and other goodies. We spent three hours there. The group has become a young adult group, rather than a purely high school group. Two of the girls are unwed and pregnant. Three of the guys have spent time in jail. The group, in general, seems to walk with God in shallow, stale water, though I’ve proven repeatedly that my evaluation of what God is actually doing in people’s lives can run equally shallow.

I spent tonight trying to determine who God might be laying on my heart in some special way, persons God may want me to invest something extra in. Turns out it was pretty much all of them. And yet, there were two in particular. They’re the ones I mentioned to Pam on the way to the car.

I’m really not sure what to do next. And in such situations, surrounded by other worthy causes and worldly distractions and my own uncertainty, I tend to fink out and not do anything.

I think I am afflicted with what Anna Quindlen calls “creeping codgerism.” Or what I call Grumpy Old Guy Syndrome. I noticed it clearly during last Friday’s Battle of the Bands (see May 22 post). A number of times, things happened which, in most other churches, would be quashed as disrespectful of God’s House. When I began working with youth about five years ago, I got uptight about a lot of such things and drifted into the role of fun-stopper, or Guardian of the Building. I quickly chilled out, learning that much youth-type activity is harmless, and fusses should be made only about truly fuss-worthy stuff. But where’s the line?

Anna Quindlen wrote in her Newsweek column, “When I complain that my daughter’s skirt looks more like a belt, or that my sons keep vampire hours, those are the churlish carpings of a woman years removed from the days when her own dresses were sky-high and her idea of a good time was sleeping until noon.” I feel that way. Something wants to criticize today’s youth for their tattoos, their hair (whether long, short, or just wierd), piercings, and general youth-oriented behavior. Creeping codgerism afflicts me, and I don’t like it.

On Friday night, Grumpy Old Guy yearned to jump into action. I could use various rationale: what you’re doing is disrespectful of God’s house, shouldn’t happen on church property, could damage our property, is just plain inappropriate. Being in a position of authority, I had weight to throw around in such situations as these:

• One teen carried a gallon jug of purple liquid, like grape Kool-Aid, as he moshed–running around, swinging the jug, running into people, and taking a swig now and then. A disaster waiting to happen. Finally, someone rammed him and a huge amount of grape slopped onto the sanctuary carpet, which we paid to have professionally cleaned just before Easter. Grumpy Old Guy wanted to go down there, look at the teens with a disapproving expression, go get some wet towels and carpet cleaner, then come back and clean up their mess, donning an Impatient Martyr demeanor in the hope that they felt duly ashamed. Treat them like little kids who just don’t know better. Don’t say anything; just bark silent disapproval and clean up the mess. But I didn’t.
• Kids were smoking outside, as usual. I could say, “We don’t mind if you smoke, but not on church property.” That’s reasonable. But I didn’t. We used to fuss about this and put up “No Smoking” signs, but we don’t anymore.
• Some kids in the sanctuary were throwing around a soft plastic ball, and occasionally it smacked against the wall. I watched them, thinking, “Should I stop them before they chip the paint or break a window? Out of respect for this room in which we worship God for three whole hours every week?” Grumpy Old Guy wanted to stop them. But he let it go.
• The hallway leading downstairs, where the bands store their stuff, was littered with Gatorade bottles and other trash. Very messy. Disrespectful even. I didn’t say anything to anybody. But Grumpy Old Guy stewed about it.
• Two girls sat on the couch in the foyer for the longest time, laying against each other and intertwining legs. By all appearances to Grumpy Old Guy, they were gay. Surely I could justifiably break up such PDA occurring in the church. But I didn’t. Right or wrong?
• We moved the grand piano to the back of the sanctuary and surrounded it with stacked-up chairs. I heard someone playing, and rushed downstairs. A tall, skinny youth had climbed behind the chairs, lifted the lid, and was playing the piano–my piano. Over the roar of the band on stage, I yelled, “No. Stop. Get out of there.” Very terse, direct. He smiled at me sheepishly and complied. Grumpy Old Guy wanted to take a different approach, tell him with condescending sarcasm, “We blocked off the piano for a reason.” Grumpy Old Folks say stuff like that. But I just told him to exit, and left before he actually did.
• And then there’s the lead singer who did a striptease on stage, just behind where our worship leader stood two days later as we sang “Lord I Lift Your Name on High.” Grumpy Old Guy was too shocked to move.

This type of thing is the price of doing business with this crowd, in this neighborhood. It happens. Last year, somebody broke a window in the sanctuary during the Battle of the Bands. There is always gum in the carpet (I found two pieces mashed down this year). We deal with it, don’t get unduly disturbed, and life goes on. And on Sunday, when we gather to worship, God still shows up.

We say the “church” is the people, not the building. We say the building is a tool for the Kingdom, not a sacred shrine. But events like this test that pretty theology, and I suspect most United Brethren people would fail miserably. Frankly, I carry too much traditional baggage, growing up in the days when you didn’t run in church and you certainly never sat on the altar. (“What?” you say. “You mean those days ended?”) I was taught one theology about the church being the people, but saw a different theology in practice. But if we truly view the building as merely a tool for ministry, something which can be used for worship, but which can also be used for a carnival (which we do, putting a huge rented moonwalk on the platform), then you shouldn’t get uptight.

Last Friday, I sensed the onslaught of “creeping codgerism,” as Grumpy Old Guy tried to break free to scold/admonish/shame/punish those youth and show his frustration/disapproval/disappointment/general annoyance. I’m glad Grumpy Old Guy didn’t win. But he’s there, lurking within me, and he’s not happy.

On Sunday we had a number of visitors. I met most of them. Two were young singles recently out of college who moved into town and are checking out churches. Both probably feel somewhat alone, moving into a new city by themselves. This was the first visit to Anchor for both of them. The fact that they are checking out churches, trying different ones, tells much about them.

The guy graduated a year ago from a Christian college in another city. He’s originally from around Cleveland, and just started a new job here in Fort Wayne. He found Anchor through our website. A lot of people do, we’ve found. If a church doesn’t have a listing on the web, they should. The girl graduated from Huntington University a year ago and moved to Fort Wayne in March. A wonderful girl with a UB background.

Both will probably decide on a church and become active there. They struck me as those kinds of kids. I don’t know if either will settle down at Anchor. But I’m delighted that we made them feel very comfortable and people spoke at length with both of them. Because I know that if they’re checking out other churches, they’ll encounter some where they slip in and out, and nobody seems to notice. At Anchor, we notice. And that makes me smile.