Let's Be More Like a Youth Group: Reflections on presence, community, and what students can teach the Church

The Place Where I Belonged  

I was a youth group kid from 1994 to 2000. My home church—Hampton Road Baptist in DeSoto—was one of the larger churches in town. And in a one-high-school community, “the Roadies” carried some weight. Our youth group wasn’t perfect, but it was a safe place—a place to feel seen, a place to belong. 

Even during my own “little rebellion” year—when I only showed up because my parents made me—something happened every time I was there: I discovered again that I was surrounded by people who really loved Jesus. It wasn’t embarrassing to care about your faith. It was cool to ask real questions. It was normal to take church seriously. We didn’t have to pretend. 

To this day, I keep up weekly—sometimes daily—with a group of guys from those youth group years. And I can say this with total confidence: if any of us from that era ran into each other now, or reached out in need, we would show up. No hesitation. No awkwardness. Just immediate affection and camaraderie. 

The Superpower That Changed Everything  

So, what made it so special? 

We had a youth pastor named Dennis who had a superpower: presence. 

He knew how to be fully present with the teenager in front of him. Whether you were a student leader or just a friend-of-a-friend making some questionable decisions, he looked you in the eye, listened carefully, and made you feel seen. He cared, and it showed. Maybe that’s the real superpower: not presence for presence’s sake—but the ability to make people feel special simply by being fully with them. 

Back in the Game, After a Long Time Away  

Eighteen months ago, I had the unexpected honor of stepping back into student ministry as our church’s interim youth pastor. It had been nearly two decades since I had served as a minister to students. A lot has changed since then—technology, language, cultural rhythms—but in the most important ways, nothing has changed at all. 

Teenagers still need the same things: to be seen and valued. To feel safe and cared for. To have a space where they can ask honest questions about faith and life without fear of judgment. And the greatest gift we can offer them? Presence. 

Over these months, I’ve watched our volunteer leaders pour out that gift in abundance. I’ve challenged our students to offer their presence to one another. I’ve done my best to model it myself. And what I’ve witnessed has been beautiful: our group has grown in maturity, in unity, in vulnerability, and in spiritual depth. They’ve grown in love. 

The Hand-Off—and the Hope  

This week, our new youth pastor begins. From our very first conversation, I knew he was the one. It didn’t feel like an interview—it felt like the start of a friendship. In every interaction since, he’s made me feel seen and cared for. He’s curious, joyful, and kind. And he shines with an earnest love for Jesus. 

I’ll miss this season. I’ll miss the close-up view of watching our teens grow in wisdom and faith. I’ll miss their sincerity and their relational generosity. But I am also full of hope. The Lord has provided a shepherd for this group, and I believe the best days are still ahead. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines—and sneaking into volunteer roles when they’ll have me. 

Why Youth Ministry Brings So Much Joy  

What If Our Church Was More Like a Youth Group? 

Church family, what if we took a cue from our students? 

What if we reclaimed the spiritual joy and relational simplicity that marks so much of youth ministry? 

What if we chose presence over preference—setting aside our agendas and distractions to really see the person in front of us? What if we showed up not as consumers, but as people who pastor one another with love—leading, feeding, and laying down our lives like the Good Shepherd? 

What if we stopped needing to be right and started being humble—truly humble—like Jesus, who emptied Himself to lift others up? Teenagers do this instinctively. They laugh more quickly, apologize more freely, and forgive more easily. What if we re-learned that from them? 

What if we offered our availability instead of our busyness? What if we made time to ask questions, share burdens, and point each other toward Jesus—not just with clarity of word, but with kindness of heart? 

What if we committed to living as people full of grace and full of truth, never weaponizing either—but embodying both in a way that mirrors the One we follow? 

The early church didn’t flourish because of production value. It flourished because people were devoted to God and one another. So, let’s reclaim that. Let’s resist becoming transactional, inflexible, or isolated. 

Let’s be more like a youth group.