I had just moved to Southern California
for grad school and I was on the hunt for work. I had found a job on an online
forum that listed ministerial jobs. It was a youth pastor position, it was
about twenty minutes from where I was going to live, the location of the church
was directly in the neighborhood I wanted to be in, and the pay was exactly
what I was looking for. What a find, I thought. All I needed to do was “ace”
the interview, right?
My wife and I headed into the interview, even more elated
because only a week before a friend of mine had a “vision” that I was to be
working as a youth pastor in the Southern California
area. So, it was a shoe in for us. We walked in and noticed that all of the
interviewers were older, much older, than we had anticipated. But hey, I am not
prejudicer of age. We also noticed, via church group photos, that the church
was predominantly White in a predominantly Black and Latino neighborhood. But,
those just arouse assumptions; we needed to get to know the people before we
cast any type of judgment. They started with the basic questions, how long had
I been doing youth work, how long had I known Christ, what were some of my
passions, and the rest of the mundane rigor. Then they started asking if I
played basketball. Then they asked if I played the guitar. A few questions
later, I was also asked if I was a fan of Black Gospel music.
Not totally sure where those random questions came from, I
felt, overall, that the interview was going well. I patiently answered all of
their questions and it came time for me to ask them some questions. Then the
senior pastor walked in. He was a younger pastor, so I thought that he would
better understand the plight of a youth pastor. He was adorned with a very
large crucifix that hung down to the middle of his chest covering much of that
area as well. I thought it odd for such bling, but hey, to each their own,
right? Before I could even begin my questions, and without even asking my name,
his uttered the question, “So, tell me who’s your favorite football team?” I
smiled and snickered, not taking him very seriously and moved on to my
questions. But he asked again, this time more forcefully and appearing agitated
that I ignored his initial question. I, hesitantly, said, “Well…it’s the
Cowboys.” “The Cowboys?” he responded, “They’re horrible, I can’t stand them,
you all have no quarter back and are a bunch of drug infested players that have
no place in the NFL!” He continued on this rampage for about two minutes until
I said, “Hey, they’re just my team; I don’t own em or anything.” His face then
scowled and he said, “Well, they suck! I’m an Eagles fan and I hate the
Cowboys.”
By this point I was a little put off by his awkward
interaction with me. He finally seemed to pull himself together long enough for
me to ask a few questions. So I started in with my questions. I wanted to
confirm the pay range, the hours, and what they expected of me as a youth
pastor. All was good…except the last question. With that last question, the
entire committee told me that they expected me to work primarily and
exclusively with only their youth.
I was a little thrown off. I was a little confused. They had
told me most of their youth had grown up in the church, most of their youth
came from Christian homes, and a large portion of their youth had familial
roots in the church tracing back a hundred years. So I was amazed that they
only wanted me to work with only their youth. I asked, “Well, what about the
community around you guys here? Are you all willing to work with any of their
kids?” The entire committee looked at me with a puzzled glare. “What do you
mean?” asked the senior pastor. “Well,” I said, “It seems to me that if a
church that has mostly Christian youth, is in a neighborhood that is
predominately Black and Latino and from lower economic brackets that one might
be thinking of doing some missional work and growing the church group using the
established youth to lead the way.” One committee member responded to me
insisting that their youth needed the most attention. So I persisted. “I’m just
saying that this church is in a great location, the youth appear to be on the
right track, and that the youth group, including the church, can be grown,
especially from the youth department,” I replied. Then the senior pastor chimed
in, “What kids are you talking about? Are you talking about the ones with
tattoos around their necks and the ones with sagging pants down to their
ankles?” I then said, “That’s exactly who I’m talking about!”
At this point the entire committee in one glance looked
toward the senior pastor as if to say, “What you gonna say now?” The pastor, in
complete seriousness and with a “matter of fact” attitude said, “No, we’re not
interested in those kids, they are the scary kids and they’d scare away our older
church goers, especially the ones who tithe well.”
I turned to my wife, looked her in the eye, turned back to
the committee and said, “Thanks for your time, it’s been educational” and
proceeded to walk out. One day later I got a call telling me that I did not get
the job. Thank God!
You see, there is a scandalous element to the Great
Commission that many, not just this particular church, do not fully understand
nor weigh when contemplating missions. The “stranger” for many Christians is
someone who is:
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Tupac pioneered the dialogue
about theological matters in the ‘hood and Hip Hop culture. Tupac became a
lighting rod for those theological matters, both positive and negative. Tupac
connected the profane to the sacred. Moreover, Tupac made religion, God,
church, and community attainable for comprehension and understanding by the
masses.
