This past weekend, I did what I’ve done most Sunday nights for the past 16 years; I shared space with a group of teenagers; lots of them.
On a given night during that decade-and-a-half span, there have been as few as 5, and as many as 200, but regardless of the numbers, the dynamic was and is, always exactly the same.
There are invariably a relative handful of students, who seem to always demand attention; who generate volume and attract drama; who wildly blow through rooms like unannounced, adolescent tornadoes, full of angst and noise and bombast.
And when they do touch down, my energy is always immediately redirected from the crowd, to those localized human storms, in an effort to manage crisis and decrease collateral damage… at least until the next week.
Because like clockwork, when the church doors open up again, the winds of urgency kick-up once more, and we’re again back in a manufactured state of emergency, at the hands of the same, select “weather-makers”.
Meanwhile, all around these students; in the middle of this great chaos, sit the silent kids; the easy-going, agreeable, rule-following ones.
They make no frantic pleas, throw no tantrums, and drop no bombs. They derail no discussions, dismantle no plans, and destroy no property.
They simply come quietly and softly, barely making a sound, and precisely because of that fact, they often become invisible.
These teenagers don’t lack for struggle, they aren’t exempt from pain, and they aren’t free of urgent need; they just don’t want to blow-up a room in order to be seen or heard by the people around them.
They just want to be visible.
I confess, that I’ve spent far too many nights as a pastor, completely missing the quiet kids; of being drawn to the screaming, flailing teens with “obvious” storms, while overlooking the steady, still souls, whose storms live just beneath the surface.
I probably missed a million chances to serve them, because I was looking past them, to the noise.
I know it’s that way in homes, and churches, and classrooms. The kids who cause no trouble, are not only the easiest to have around; they’re the easiest ones to take for granted, the easiest ones to ignore, and they’re also the ones most in danger of disappearing.
Often, as parents, pastors and teachers, we can look around and realize that over time, we’ve neglected something priceless while always chasing the loudness.
We’ve gradually been blinded to those whose insides, stay inside.
This message is for you young people out there, whose steadiness has made you feel invisible; whose reliability and consistency have sadly sent you to the shadows.
I want you to know that we do see you.
You’re not an afterthought, even though it may feel that way sometimes. You’re not a runner-up for our affections.
You aren’t less important.
You aren’t less valuable.
You aren’t less anything.
On behalf of your parents, teachers, coaches, and pastors; I apologize for all the times we missed you, or didn’t stop to let you know how really great you were, and for the times that we simply were too distracted with louder things to notice you there in the quiet.
You are not invisible.
We see you.
