Malik lived in the neighborhood behind our church building. His believing parents attended a different church, but with a household of eight kids, they appreciated the walking distance proximity of our youth ministry. With an older brother who was an off-and-on attender, the moment Malik hit 6th grade, he jumped into our group, finding quick popularity through his athleticism and quirky wit. It seemed Malik was there every Wednesday night the doors opened, even if it meant showing up in stinky practice clothes.
Malik was faithful to come on Sundays, too. And he never missed a year of summer camp or winter retreat. The youth ministry, it seemed, was a part of every major event in Malik’s life, like the year that he “fell in love” on the second day of camp. I’ll never forget him finding the flag to win the game for us… but handing victory to a rival team when he proclaimed his “love” for this new girlfriend by giving her the flag! I thought he’d never live it down, but the group eventually forgave him.
There were also tough times with Malik. His sister died of a heart disease. Two years later, his mother succumbed to cancer. Plenty of adult support was available— coaches, older siblings, family members. We were there for him, too.
Malik persevered, capping off his senior year with our Mexico mission trip. As he neared graduation, no one could have convinced me that he would not step out into the world with a resilient faith. However, life after high school brought new challenges and opportunities for Malik, and he moved out of state to pursue a new career. During a visit home the following summer, he ambushed me from behind with a huge hug when he noticed me at our church yard sale. After briefly catching up, he told me why he stopped.
“Ms. Eb, I had to stop when I saw you. I just wanted to thank you for the great time I had growing up in youth group. Those are the best memories I have as a kid— I’ve grown out of church now— but I just want you to know how much fun I had growing up here.”
Malik’s well-intended words crushed me. I was so bewildered that I couldn’t think of an apt reply. Inside, I panicked, “No, no, no…. Jesus can’t be on the same level as football, or wrestling, or homecoming. I’m glad it was fun, but this wasn’t just about creating memories— this is life! This is hope!” But the words didn’t come out.
Unfortunately, Malik’s story is all too common. Parents and youth workers who have invested in teens find themselves bewildered when their efforts to instill faith seem to dissipate the moment they turn their tassels.
Jesus used the Parable of the Sower to illustrate the different responses to the message of God’s kingdom (Matthew 13:18-23). The message won’t bear fruit when it’s never understood, swallowed up by distractions, or too shallow to withstand troubles. Of this group, Scripture clues us in to joy as a predictor of faith resilience.
The seed on the rocky soil represents those who hear the message and immediately receive it with joy. But since they don’t have deep roots, they don’t last long. They fall away as soon as they have problems or are persecuted for believing God’s word. (Matthew 13:21, NLT).
If dedicated youth group kids like Malik can grow up in Christian homes and have great youth ministry experiences but still enter adulthood barely connected to Jesus, then do our efforts truly help them experience joyful endurance? Let’s tread carefully here. There’s more to joy than meets the eye.
Social scientists describe the state of joy as circumstantial. It’s joy that comes when good things happen to you, like when you get an A on a test you thought you’d bomb, or when your team wins the game. There’s nothing wrong with state joy as long as you understand that it’s momentary. It’s not designed to sustain you.
There’s also a distinctively different trait of joy. This becomes a part of who you are. A much deeper, durable level of joy, this transcends any circumstance. Dave and I concluded that this is the joy that Scripture speaks about (e.g., Philippians 4:4, 1 Thessalonians 5:16, James 1:2).
Further, we’ve mistakenly tried to form faith in young people by offering moments of joy rather than helping them know the deeper Source of joy (John 15:11, 17:13). Jesus alone sustains them despite their circumstances.
Our book uses a diving analogy to characterize this faith journey. Most young people start out simply splashing, and joy is fragile. Their interest in Jesus is paired with activities to spike their joy meter. Some may try snorkel discoveries, where they get to glimpse God’s beauty beneath the surface. But it’s a safe experience because snorkeling works best in calm waters.
Only when teens dive deep—think scuba—can they understand the joy of Jesus as their Lord. Durable joy requires a deep connection to Jesus, tested in turmoil, breeding resilience.
Here’s the thing—this isn’t something we can teach through Bible lessons or point to heroes of the faith (biblical or modern) as models. If it were, then every Christian kid would head toward college with a rock-solid faith. This is show and tell, and young people need to get close enough to touch it.
When Dave and I interviewed faith-resilient young adults about what made a difference for them, we heard very little about the specific activities they did during their years in youth ministry. What we heard about instead was those who walked alongside them—the adults who spent time “hanging out” just getting to know them or the leader who they were close enough with to witness how they navigated faith during tough times.
To be sure, the work of transformation is the Holy Spirit’s turf, but parents, mentors, youth leaders, and other Jesus-loving adults have an important role to play as conduits of God’s love. Deep joy must be modeled so kids know it’s real…know we’re real. This self-scrutiny is our first and best move. How deep with Jesus is your joy?
Reflecting on Malik today, I can see that he had a lot of fun experiences in the ministry, encouragement, support, great faith formation, and parents who served as great faith models. It breaks my heart to realize that wasn’t enough. Perhaps something changed as he suffered loss, but no one was close enough to get past his brave face and assess the true damage. Malik didn’t just need adults who sat in the bleachers of his football games, as I often did; he needed adult mentors who were close enough to show him what it looked like to walk with Jesus during the most devastating moments of our lives. What happens during our time together matters. Let’s fix it by resolving to do better, like Dave and I have. Hopefully, Grit and Joy can help.
