Why are teenagers so scary?

Why do I feel like I shrunk back in cowardice every time a pack of teens slouched by our AppleFest booth this past Saturday??? Was it their unkempt hair? Their “cooler-than-thou” attitudes? Their complete lack of interest in stopping by a church’s booth (or was it slight interest completely annihilated by the crushing peer pressure not to be seen stopping by a church booth?)?

Or maybe it was just me. Have I really not grown past that fear-of-fitting-in, just-want-to-look-cool anxiety I acquired when I hit puberty? And if that’s the case, when does one get over that? Is it when your kids finally convince you that you’re not cool anymore? When the hairline recedes and the waistline increases? When you realize that you no longer recognize any of the songs on Top 40 radio?

Whatever it is… teenagers are scary to me. Actually, come to think of it, so are most adults. I think it’s pretty much the under 12 and the over 65 crowd that I don’t find threatening. Fortunately for me, that’s who our booth seemed to attract the most when I was there on Saturday (mainly the 12 and under crowd, thanks to our bean bag toss and temporary tattoos). Thank God for Peter & Gloria Wu being there when I showed up and for staying long enough to show me the ropes, because it took me about 30 minutes to work up the courage to actually make eye contact with people. Maybe it’s a surprise to you, but being outgoing with strangers does not come easily for me.

But so many times during my time in the booth, as I surveyed the crowd, the following verse came to mind: When Jesus saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd (Mark 6:34). I look at teenagers and see gangsters straight out of The Godfather (or The Departed, for those of you too young to have seen the Godfather…). Jesus saw wooly little quadrapeds, baa-ing away in their lostness, hoping for someone to bring them to fresh water and plentiful grass. Try it sometimes when you’re out in a crowd – look at a group of teens and imagine them with wool and fuzzy ears. Maybe that will take the fear out of it.

The verse from Mark about the crowd being like sheep reminds me of a scene from one of my all-time favorite movies, Swingers, a 90’s movie starring Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughan that became well-known for its “Vegas, baby” line. Jon Favreau’s character, Mikey, has all sorts of problems being smooth with the ladies, and in a classic scene, Vince Vaughan’s Trent and Patrick Van Horn’s Sue try to convince Mikey that he’s like a big bear, and the woman whose number he’s trying to score is like a little bunny, and if he’d just realize that he’s got claws and fangs and she’s just a little rabbit, he wouldn’t be so afraid (FYI, the movie is rated R for its language, before anyone runs out to rent it). And in the end (spoiler alert!), as he looks across the bar at an attractive woman (Heather Graham), he squints real hard and imagines her as a little bunny rabbit before going over and introducing himself (and succeeding in being semi-smooth).

And if both Jesus and Vince Vaughan agree on something, it must be true.

Sheep without a shepherd. Lost, defenseless people without a master. This is how Jesus was able to see people with compassion instead of judging them as I judge them, by their appearance, age, attractiveness, gender, piercings, or anything like that. Now that doesn’t mean that I should have left the booth and stopped a pack of teens and said (in my most compassionate voice), “Hey, boys and girls, I know you’re lost and feeling helpless – let me introduce you to Jesus. He’ll be the guide you’ve been looking for.” That probably would not have been effective, because ultimately most people who are “lost” don’t know they are, and most helpless sheep don’t know there is a shepherd who can guide them to peace and everything they’ve been looking for. And because teenagers are scary.

However, seeing people as Jesus sees them would do wonders for me, I believe, in helping me to overcome my fears and insecurities. It might even help convince my soul that I am not in junior high anymore, that there is no one looking to slam my locker or knock the books out of my hand if I say the wrong thing or don’t appear cool enough. I would realize that I am just a sheep who has been found by the shepherd, an often clueless, sometimes dirty, usually lost person who for some reason got scooped up by a loving shepherd and led to a place with everlasting water. I am loved, and I don’t need to be afraid of people’s opinions anymore, because I know I’m just a sheep anyways. My head knows that; someday my heart will know it as well.

And not only would realizing I’m just a sheep who’s been found humble me, it would help me see through the lack of interest in church and cooler-than-thou attitude and the unkempt hair (well, maybe not through the hair) and see that behind all the posturing is a need to be loved for who you are, to belong unconditionally, and for a sense that life matters. Essentially, a need for a shepherd, and for a church full of sheep who love other sheep for who they are (even if they are clueless and dirty), give them a place to belong unconditionally (piercings and all) and show them the path towards the full life (and neverending grassy fields). And maybe if people got the sense that the church loved them like that instead of judging them, they’d be more interesting in stopping by our booth, and more importantly in meeting the Shepherd. So, even if it means imagining wool and fuzzy ears, Lord, help us to see the crowd as you do.

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