I’m thinking today about the “span”—the difference between incoming sixth graders and graduating eighth graders.

Last June, I said goodbye to my small group of six middle-school guys, with whom I met every Wednesday night for three years, since the time they were incoming sixth graders. I maintain contact with them, of course, and see them around church; but they’re in the high-school group now, and I’m a diehard middle-school guy. Actually, they’re young men now, and it’s wonderful and crazy to see how grown up they are—especially when I compare them to the three squeaky clean (and squeaky voiced) new sixth graders I started meeting with a few weeks ago. (Side comment: a small group with only three guys is a beautiful thing, a taste of grace.)

My new group consists of the son of the high-school pastor (an exceedingly wonderful kid who is deeply introspective for an 11-year-old), the younger brother of one of my graduated eighth graders (who freaks me out by how much he reminds me of his older brother and who can get perfect scores on the expert level of “Guitar Hero”), and a quiet and thoughtful boy whose family is new to our church: TJ, Andrew and Zach.

Hanging out with my last group for three years, week after week, I often didn’t notice the developmental progression of growing up; but I’m experiencing middle- school ministry whiplash at the moment. The span between sixth graders and eighth graders (especially beginning-of-the-year sixth graders compared to end-of-the-year eighth graders) is huge. It’s a snapshot of early adolescence. My new guys are really children, not teenagers. They’ve taken on many of the external markers of adolescence and are dipping their toes in the pool of their 15-year-adolescent experience. My “old guys” (ha!) have just left the shallow end of the pool and are treading water in the challenges of identity formation, self-discovery, individuation and a host of other teenage tasks.

This is our calling, isn’t it? We’re tour guides for adolescence. We welcome these fresh-faced children, give them the lay of the land (in multiple ways, including—but not limited to—the spiritual landscape they’ll journey through in the decade to come), and walk alongside them. Really, we’re front-lobby tour guides: We welcome; we orient; we affirm and acknowledge; and we get them all the way to their seats in the grand showroom of the find-out-who-you-are convention of youth.

Zach recently said, when we were talking about prayer, “I pray while I’m walking down the hallway in my school. Most of the other kids seem to have such a different way of thinking and seeing things. It’s like I don’t even understand them—they seem so different than me.” Wow—deep thought for an 11-year-old; but he nailed it. He’s in a new land.

Andrew was funny: “I pray out loud when I’m in the shower. And I always feel like I need to shower after I get in trouble.” Random, and wonderfully middle school!

So, here I go. I have my “Hi, my name is Marko” tour-guide badge in place. My guys are looking around the lobby of adolescence, wide-eyed and a little nervous. My role, at this point, is to build a relational base that will allow me to journey with them, pointing here and there, explaining when necessary, and acclimating these guys—so loved by God—to the adventure before them. Man, it sure feels like a big span.