Volunteer, sponsor, leader, humble slave to the youth ministry pastor—whatever you call your lay leaders (or whatever you’re called, if you happen to be a lay leader)—it means the same thing: no pay.
OK, it means other things; but you’ve thought it, too.
I’ve had some wonderful training, godly examples and some of the best memories of my life during my years of volunteer youth ministry. My closest friends are youth pastors and their spouses. I love the youth pastor I currently serve. She’s a no-nonsense kind of leader who knows her strengths and weaknesses; she shepherds leaders but doesn’t micromanage; she genuinely cares about volunteers and challenges us to be closer with Jesus and better at what we do.
I haven’t always enjoyed volunteer service. I’ve received the 7:15 a.m. call from a youth pastor asking me to take the 8 a.m. servanthood meeting because he didn’t make it back from an out-of-town speaking engagement. I’ve endured the doe-eyed plea to handle a dropped ball, the complaint-of-the-week about the worship team, the comparisons with leaders from the past, and the “I can’t win for losing” feeling which accompanies of all that. I know full-timers feel the same things at times, but do they know their volunteers do, too?
The ‘Just a Volunteer’ Mentality
It’s not that I haven’t had offers for full-time paid staff positions. It’s my choice, with two kids at home, to keep the best of both worlds intact. There are definite pros to being just a volunteer, but I can’t tell you how many times someone wanted vital info about an upcoming youth event, but because the leadership meeting wasn’t until Sunday afternoon, I responded, “I dunno. You’ll have to ask the youth pastor.” Without thinking, I would add, “I’m just a youth sponsor,” as though I owed the person an apology for my volunteer status. It’s not low self-esteem, just a fact.
Although, it occurs to me that you wouldn’t hear a nurse, because she’s not an M.D., say, “I’m just a nurse.” Dick Cheney never responded to reporters, “I’m just the Vice President.”
A few years ago, talking with a veteran youth pastor, I said, “I’m just a youth sponsor.” This youth pastor retorted, “Danette, you’re not just a youth sponsor.” He said that if youth sponsors didn’t do their jobs, youth pastors couldn’t do theirs. While I wasn’t looking for the ego boost, I’ve recalled his encouragement on a many a discouraging day.
The Other Side of the Coin
Though I’m not on a church staff, I get the privilege of frequently rubbing shoulders with my full-time counterparts. I’ve learned a tremendous amount from them, but I’ve concluded that sometimes youth pastors who’ve been at it for a while or who go into full-time ministry out of Bible College unintentionally forget what it’s like to do this youth ministry thing around a full-time job and family, all without a paycheck. It’s a whole different dynamic.
It’s not that staffers intend to take their volunteers for granted, and it’s certainly not that all volunteers are good volunteers. Often, they’re so busy, they don’t do their jobs very well. Oswald Chambers said, “The enemy of best is good.” Even as a volunteer, because I oversee our youth worship along with our Servanthood Corps (leadership training), I face frustration in mini-cycles with youth and young adults who enthusiastically volunteer to sing, play or lead in some other way, then have something come up or, worse, simply don’t show up two weeks after they volunteered. What can I do?
There’s a side of the ministry coin labeled: “It’s a privilege to be on this team.” The other side clearly is: “Nobody’s paying me to do this.” I find myself putting newcomers on mental probation until I see that they’re going to stick around. Would it be unethical to hook them up to a GPS? All that to say, on a small scale I know how full-time youth pastors feel.
Boundaries for Volunteers—Am I Being Used…or Being Used?
I wonder if I’m one of a handful of volunteers who actually subscribes to youth ministry periodicals; my mom usually pays for them as a birthday gift. Even if volunteers could afford or were inclined to subscribe to YouthWorker Journal or Group magazine, how many of them even know they exist? This point hit me this past year when I attended a Christian Education Summit with approximately 45 other youth professionals, a combination of seminary profs and full-time youth leaders from all over the country. It was worthwhile and educational, a great learning and networking opportunity. I felt an important part of a group that cares and is doing some concrete things for teenagers. There I was, sitting amid brilliant, deep-thinking seminary professors and youth professionals, hanging onto every $5 word; but I was the only volunteer. This wasn’t a slight on the part of the sponsor of this summit. It just was.
At times during the sessions, I felt like a union representative for non-paid youth workers. I pointed out that of the 323 youth workers in my state within my denomination, only 23 of them are full-time paid staff. As much as I appreciate the invaluable resources out there for professionals, most of us…well…aren’t. We’re just people who got a call from a desperate youth pastor, a compelling God or both, asking, “Will you show up?” For many—mostly good—reasons, we did. We don’t all have degrees, at least not from Bible colleges. We don’t usually make impressive incomes. Not all of us are young and cool (Some of us who think so are, in reality, aging and in denial). Nonetheless, we show up and really love it. We love what God’s doing in this generation. We love teenagers, even when we want to drop kick them for not taking our great advice. We have their pictures on our refrigerators and cry over their hurts. Truly, meshing with and mentoring teenagers is very fulfilling. Learning from an experienced, educated and energetic youth pastor is invaluable to us…most of the time.
Sometimes we feel dumped on and used. The word used has a dual meaning in ministry: We all want to be used by God, so we say yes to all the fun things going on in youth ministry. We don’t want to be used like a circus elephant, worn out week after week. If our youth pastor doesn’t verbally give us permission to say no and stay home now and then, we burn out. Is this the youth pastor’s fault? No. After 17 years and four great churches, I’ve learned to set boundaries. Every volunteer is responsible for doing so. However, great youth pastors will teach their volunteers to take their breaks before they need them. Boundaries in youth ministry can be boiled down to healthy emotional, spiritual, relational and time priorities—and the freedom to say no or do something different within youth ministry (or another ministry altogether, if God calls). The key is often the difference between a spoken message that this is OK and an unspoken message that it’s not. The youth pastor sends either message.
Before staffers complain about how little they are paid—and yes I know it’s little in many cases—remember we volunteers don’t get paid at all. Before whining about the dimensions of offices or their predecessor’s choice of wallpaper, bear in mind we don’t get offices. When starting to resent the board that won’t raise their annual budget…well, you get the picture.
