FireStarters: a day in the life of a teen ministry.

I get the chance to go and worship and spread Jesus with 60 other teenagers every month. For one weekend per month, we invade a church and bless the community however we can. This is a small taste of a weekend with FireStarters, a generation set on fire for Jesu to be sparks of revival.

Tired eyes, all in a circle. Each clutching coffee like it is gold. Together, we worship, our voices tired at first, slowly building. God, be our focus today. 

The day’s plans are discussed. How yesterday went. What went well, what could be improved. 

We pray, asking and inviting God to be with us and in us and move drastically through the day. 

And did you know that God is good all of the time? That he shows up when we ask?

We move from the quiet circle to breakfast. Instant noise. Movement and colour and chaos and life and joy and teenagers everywhere. 

And I see Jesus in the community we have. And I see Jesus in the worship practice my team does. I see him coming as the five of us gather because he promises that where two or three are, there he is. 

I see Jesus in our family groups as we discuss the fear of God, how reverently we approach God, how we must learn to obey with delight. 

How even Jesus delighted in the fear of the Lord. 

And then together we worship God, imperfectly and with all our hearts and souls and minds. 

After worship, we are taught about the fear of man. The thing that binds us from obeying God. 

Fear of man stops us from being able to have compassion for people because we are constantly competing to have their love.

This phrase stays in my head and I ask God where my compassion has been replaced by fear. 

Together, we write down things that we have let the fear of man have instead of letting God have them. And we pray in twos and the lies are torn into pieces and we trust God with each and every one of them. 

It is utterly sacred. 

I see Jesus in outreach. In fifteen people worshipping God and sitting with elderly people who have so much wisdom to give and so few people to give it to. 

I see God in the sacred moments of stillness and hand-holding and neither generation being able to find the right words but both feeling the same deep communion. 

Later, there is laughter. There is debate. There is an unhealthy amount of sweets and a healing amount of joy. 

Our cook, who doubled as our teacher for Friday night, reminds me of how she fears God by serving us. God calls her to serve and so she does. God has taught her to love and so she loves. God has given her wisdom and she gives it freely. And I am so, so grateful for it. 

Evening brings worship. Together us and people from the community gather and proclaim praises to God, declare his promises over our lives, and pray for each other. A prayer tunnel is formed and we spend time blessing everyone who passes through it. 

We worship an hour longer than we planned to, because no one wants to leave. A lady’s shoulder is healed from stabbing pain. People weep upon hearing prophetic words of encouragement. And I see Jesus in the way that he cares so specifically for each and every person present. We end the night singing of God’s joy. 

And in the chaos that ensues during supper, I know our joy will only grow. With these people, I see Jesus at every turn.