youth

Grow up, Grownups!

By Rev. Mindi

I went to hear a prominent Christian speaker today and she was excellent.  She spoke about our current cultural dynamics, broken down by generation and religious affiliation, and that the future of the church is now. 

The speaker mentioned how those in the 18-29 age range are adults.

Then an older woman made the comment, “Legally.”

SERIOUSLY?

And we wonder why millennials are not in the church?

Right after the woman made that comment, several people shouted back, “NO” to the woman, and “They are adults!” The speaker confirmed gently that yes, they are adults and we need to reframe our thinking.

But this comment by one woman is a symptom of a much greater problem in the church. The fact is, we treat young adults like they are children and what used to be middle-age like they are adolescents.

Look at your church board. Is there anyone under 40 on it? Anyone under 30?

I have seen this happen in the churches I have served. As a young pastor, I’ve been called “kid” many times. Ironically, when my hairdresser recently asked me about coloring my hair I said no. I need my grays that are streaking in. However, the larger issue is that regularly, people in their 30’s and 40’s in the churches I have served and known are referred to as kids (because everyone probably remembers when they were kids and their parents probably still attend that church), but what’s worse, they are often treated like kids.  I have seen adults in their 70’s and 80's scold the 40-year-olds in the church over various things—their attire, their tattoos, the way they teach Sunday School—and we wonder why even younger adults are not there.

We have to stop this symptom. We have to change our attitudes. We have to treat millennials and Gen-Xers as adults. Gen-Xers are middle-aged. Millennials vote and work.  We are adults. We have a vested interest—perhaps even more than others—in the future of the church and if we are not included right now, treated with equal value and respect—then why in the world would we want to stay in an institution that doesn’t treat us this way?

This symptom, of course, is a symptom of a greater issue—power and control. I remember in a previous church a group of young 30-somethings complaining about some of the decision-making in the church and how they were excluded from it. Even though they served on the board, their ideas were dismissed and opinions ignored. They often joked, “When we get to be their age, then we can be ornery and stubborn and make the church the way we want it!” That was said tongue-in-cheek, but it reflected the behavior of the boomers and the seniors in the church leadership at that time.

We shouldn’t divide on generational lines, and as was shared by another participant in this conversation, the church is one of the last institutions that can be truly intergenerational and was intended to be that way. There is value of all people of all generations being together, and we know the value of diversity within those generations. But all too often, we are dismissing “younger” adults as not being an adult, not capable of participating or making decisions or being trustworthy or having the right skills. News flash: if your church is in decline and all your leadership is above fifty, you might want to consider that you may not have the right skills for leadership today.

We cannot change all of the reasons why younger adults are leaving the church, or why they haven’t come in the first place (that would take another article, plus we would need to address the assumption that we still need to get people in to the church, and that perhaps we need to rethink our models of church, but I digress). But we can do better. The first step is changing our attitudes about younger adults. The second is to be intentionally intergernational and to break down our stereotypes of all generations.  It’s going to take all of us, together, to nip this in the bud.

Save Camp!

By Rev. Mindi

Of all my experiences in church life growing up, church camp was one of the most important experiences of my life. While I experienced a call to ministry in a worship service on a Sunday morning, and was nurtured in a congregation in that call, the memories that I carry with me over the years that were incredibly important in my faith journey are from church camp. Friendships were forged, fellowship and fun were had, and for many of my friends, church camp was the one place where church really and truly was fun—and camp was just for us, for that age group, for that week. Everything was about us in that place and time.

Since high school, I have been a camp counselor a few times and a camp pastor (and currently am getting ready for another stint soon). What has struck me recently are the many adults of all ages, but especially adults under fifty, for whom church camp has been one of the most formative experiences of their faith lives. In my current ministry setting I have a high number of young adults involved in my small congregation—all of them went to church camp. I have started meeting other young adults in our area who grew up going to church camp. Some of them are no longer attending church, but all of them had a positive experience of camp that has influenced them in their faith journey.

Church camps are places where friendships are made fast. Trust is built up. Faith is taken seriously but there is a good balance of irreverence and silliness. Camp is also the one place where we actually worship our Creator out in creation on a daily basis. The experience of God in nature, in creation, especially for youth who may come from urban areas and not have those experiences with any regularity is an opportunity hard to find elsewhere.

Having now lived and participated in camping ministry across the country—from Alaska to New England, to Oklahoma and now Washington—what I have found, in both the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and the American Baptist Churches, USA, is the same trend you probably already know: funding for camps is running short. Scholarships aren’t as readily available as they once were. Sending kids to camp is not a priority for most churches. Property and buildings are becoming run-down from age and use and are not being repaired. The camp experience I grew up with may not be available for the next generation.

So, besides the obvious—giving money to our church camps—here’s what else we need to do: Send kids to camp. Make it a priority. I grew up in a small startup church—we maybe had twenty people at most on a good Sunday—but they made the commitment that every child associated with the church got to go to camp for free. The church paid our way, and one year there were nine of us—grandchildren, friends of friends—it didn’t matter—we got to go to camp for free. If a small startup church that could barely afford to pay rent with a very part-time pastor could send their kids to camp, imagine what you can do. Have a bake sale. Invite others in the church to sponsor a scholarship. Partner with another congregation to help send kids to camp.

Support your camps. They raise up our disciples. I know that few of my friends who went to camp with me as a youth go to church now, but camp was a vital part of their lives, something they have never forgotten. I know among the young adults I minister with and to, camp was where their faith emerged and grew. Our camps are an important part of who we are, and who we can be as the church, in making and nurturing new disciples.

 

*For another personal perspective on the importance of camp, please see Dr. Mark Poindexter's recent post on "Grandparent and Me" Church Camp.

Cultivating Call

By Rev. Mindi

When I was thirteen, I felt the call to ministry. I was sitting in my grandfather’s church, listening to him preach, and I felt something in me say “This will be you someday.” And I never looked back.

When I told my pastor about my call a few months later, my pastor made sure to include me in worship leadership.  At first it was simply reading Scripture, but by the time I was fifteen I was preaching a sermon at least once or twice a year. I helped with Communion, I led liturgy and prayers.  After I was baptized, I was made a member of our Deacon Board (this happens when you are in a small church startup with about twenty members!) When I was in college, the pastor of the church I attended invited me to preach. The first time he was present; after that, he invited me as pulpit supply on occasion.

These experiences helped build me up and prepare me for ministry long before I attended seminary. And when I was serving in my first church as an associate minister, we established our first Youth Sunday in a long, long time. But I knew that Youth Sunday wasn’t going to cut it. Only once a year? Only one time for the youth to share their gifts for ministry? So I began to establish, with the help of the senior minister, a training program for youth starting in middle school to help in the worship service. And we began by reading Scripture to the congregation, and worked our way into other areas of the service. 

At my second church, where I served as Senior Pastor, I did the same—but I also invited youth to preach and not just on Youth Sunday. And when she turned sixteen, I invited her to come on pastoral visits with me (but I always received permission first from the homebound member). She also eventually was invited to serve on the church board.

In both churches, there was one youth who began to feel a call to ministry and felt uplifted, supported and encouraged in that call, just as I had felt many years ago.

What are we doing in our churches to support young people in the call to ministry? What are we doing to help laity of all ages feel supported in their call to ministry?

All too often, worship is led by the pastor, and even if laity are involved, it is simply for things such as taking the offering or serving Communion, or maybe reading Scripture. The number one complaint I hear from pastors when I ask them how laity participate in worship is that the laity are not trained to read Scripture or to lead in worship. But that is our job. If we are not involving the laity in our worship services (and of course I am speaking from a Free Church congregation with no set liturgy other than what was created by tradition within this particular congregation), we are failing to raise up the next generation of leaders.

In my current congregation, no one has come forward to me to express an interest in professional ministry—yet. But that does not mean I do not provide those opportunities, as much as possible, by inviting others to participate and serve. I also provide training, once a year, on reading Scripture out loud, what the Prayer of Invocation is and what it means to call people into worship. An 85-year-old woman in my church, who attended the training but had no interest in actually leading it, said to me “I never knew what the word Invocation really meant until now. Now I know what it is we are doing.” Sometimes, in the Free Church tradition, we have done a poor job of educating within our communities on what it is worship means, what is liturgy, and what it is we are doing.

We need to do better. Think of ways you can involve others in leadership, and ways we can educate our congregations on what worship is, but we also need to find ways of encouraging and lifting up those within our congregations who may be gifted for ministry. It is not enough to bless them and send them on their way to seminary; we must begin cultivating that call now.

Practicing Inclusion

By Rev. Mindi

“Inclusive” has become a buzzword descriptor among churches these days. Perhaps you mean it to include LGBTQ individuals and families in your congregation. Perhaps you mean it to include people of different ethnic backgrounds. Maybe it means including people of different economic statuses.

Inclusion means including everyone. It doesn’t mean creating a special program for or a specific mission outreach to a certain group of people.  Inclusion means you actually include someone: you value, encourage participation, listen to and incorporate all people into your congregational life.

Inclusion is actually very difficult to accomplish. Most of us have the best of intentions but don’t actually follow through. Most of the time, our inclusion is actually under another buzzword, “Welcoming.” We throw together a welcoming statement and say we welcome all people. We might even go to the next level and say we welcome all persons regardless of age, gender expression, sexual orientation, racial or ethnic identity, economic status, ability, etc. etc. etc.  However, there are places where we specifically do not include people and we need to not only be aware but acknowledge this.

We often do not include children, whether it be in worship (though many churches do include children to a degree, but we still often send them out after the Children’s Message) or in church business. Sure, we might ask them their opinions or talk with them in children’s sermons about things happening in the life of the church, but rarely are they included in business meetings or given the right to vote (my current church is in the process of revamping its constitution and it still states that members have to be age 16 in order to vote).  We have our reasons—they are not old enough to understand, or they would just vote the way their parents did giving them twice the vote, or other reasons we pass off. We also don’t include homebound members (often still called “shut-ins” in the life of the church) because they are no longer able to attend.  Sure, we visit them now and then, but we don’t include them in the business of the church, or the worship, for that matter.

And we do not include people with differing abilities, usually. We assume persons who use a wheelchair or walker, or those who have long-term illness, mental or physical, cannot participate in the life of the church. Sure, we welcome them to worship and we may build ramps and make our restrooms accessible, but we often do not ask them about participating, assuming they cannot.

Can a person who uses a wheelchair still hand out bulletins and greet people? Can a child carry the offering plate? Can a person who is ill still help make decisions in the life of the church? Can a young teen have a mind-blowing idea that could change the church? Of course!

Look at your congregation’s practice of inclusion. First look at what you say about yourself. Then look to see what you are really doing. Who is in leadership? Who is involved in worship? Who is involved in outreach or other ministries? What is the diversity represented? Even if there is little ethnic diversity in your congregation, look for other diversities. Are people with differing abilities represented? Are people of different ages represented? Economic status? How do you include home-bound members and those who deal with long-term illness?

How are you practicing inclusion in the life of your church? Is it a matter of lip-service, or are you doing your best to include people from all areas of life?  If not, how could you improve?

Here are some recent examples from churches I have known that have made a change to practice inclusion better:

 

-Including a ramp for the choir loft so that singers of all abilities could participate.

-Moving the choir down to the sanctuary floor for the anthem so that others could participate who could not get to the choir loft.

-Inviting a young man using a wheelchair to collect the offering

-Including a teen with Asperger’s on the youth outreach committee

-Making all restrooms accessible and changing the signs to “Restroom” with no gender indication

 

What can you do to practice inclusion better as a church community?

Love Rescue Me

By Rev. Mindi

We were crammed in to a four-passenger Cessna, with our baggage in the tail. Four teenagers on their way to Church Camp, two of whom were actually Baptist, one who was Catholic and one who was not raised in church, as far as I knew. Lightest kid sat in the back. I sat next to my fellow churchgoer, and my good friend from high school, my Catholic friend, sat up with the pilot.

The airport in Kodiak, Alaska was built during World War II, and was built precisely because of the amount of fog. The Japanese had invaded the Aleutian Islands and the fear was that they were building up to an invasion of North America through Alaska.  Nonetheless, fifty-plus years after the war, the fog was no longer convenient but a definite problem. The year after this, my brother and friend would try to fly down to Church Camp and be stuck at the Anchorage International Airport for over twenty-four hours due to the fog (it was only the two of them that year, so they got to travel on a real airline).

We had thirteen kids going that summer, and so the seven-passenger Cessna, which had better equipment and was a faster aircraft, had gone ahead of us. Missionary Air was a service in Alaska to help pastors get out to the bush communities, but they also would fly us to church camp for free when we had enough kids that needed to go.  They were able to land.  However, the radar was not working that day at the Kodiak Airport, and the pilot didn’t have the better instruments on this plane.  So we dipped out of the foggy cloud-clover over some rocky island (there are many islands in the Kodiak archipelago), but the pilot made the decision to turn and fly back to the Kenai Peninsula. And as we flew back, about forty-five minutes into the flight, I noticed the pilot kept leaning over and looking down.  “What are you looking at?” I shouted up at him over the roar of the twin-engine Cessna.  “Looking for land,” he shouted back.  At that point, my friend in the front seat began to pray.

It was the first time in my life I thought I might die. Seventeen years old, and even though I had experienced the death of loved ones and had gone to my grandfather’s funeral that spring, it was in that moment, above the white lofty clouds, blue sky and blazing sun, somewhere above the Gulf of Alaska that I thought this might be it.  And it turns out I wasn’t too far off—we started to run out of fuel while landing in Kenai. One engine sputtered out on descent and we had a bit of a bumpy landing. But we landed. We were safe. We were ok.  Later that afternoon we took off for a second attempt after refueling and hearing that the weather had cleared, and had a beautiful trip down to Kodiak, and were later reunited with our other campers that had flown out that morning and those that came from Kodiak on the beautiful, temperate rain-forested Woody Island, where the mist rose out of the trees every morning and you couldn’t see across the two-mile channel to Kodiak Island because of the thick choking fog, but where it burned off every afternoon for a brilliant sunset turning into a gorgeous starscape every night.

Church Camp was the place where my faith sprouted, where I was challenged in my faith and in my very being. I remember every year facing the challenge of, having already been saved, trying to come up with some reason I needed redemption and saving again, because the joyful catharsis of being saved on the last night of Church Camp was something I wanted to experience every single year. Because I was so emotionally vulnerable as a teenager, it was easy to start believing I was a horrible sinner who needed saving, was un-loveable and needed to be loved by God in order for everything to be right. This coming from the one-in-a-million youth for whom D.A.R.E. actually worked for. I never smoked, drank, did drugs or slept around. I was a “good kid.” So therefore, there a) must be something wrong with me that I hadn’t realized and needed to find out so I could be saved, or b) was not interesting to anyone else because I was too good and didn’t need to be saved.  Tough times for this Christian teen.

But it was that last year at camp, just after high school graduation, that changed things for me. Besides my near-death experience (well, it probably wasn’t really, and maybe I just imagined the engine going out as the pilot never admitted that to us though we were all convinced it was) that same week I was at camp a family friend—my age—committed suicide.  After my mom called me and told me, I told my camp counselors, whom I’m pretty sure just thought I was another needy teenager when I became a bit emotional about it (I don’t mean to be flip, but I remember that no one—not the camp counselors or the camp pastor—thought this was a huge thing, that a family friend had taken his own life)—I felt empty. Death was such a final reality and our friend was gone. And there was nothing I or anyone could do to bring him back.


What I really wanted was someone to comfort me, to tell me everything was ok—that I was ok. And as I look back now (“that summer seemed to last forever…” sorry, sidetracked) I realize that I WAS OK. All OF US WERE OK. There was nothing that was so bad that any of us had done. A few there had smoked pot and drank. Some had probably had sex by then. What would have been helpful were some trained counselors to deal with some of the real issues of drug addiction, or at least referrals that way.  But I think what we needed to know the most was that we were not broken people. We were still kids! What had we done that was so awful and horrible? But we were made to think that in order to be whole, to be loved by God, to be accepted, we had to be broken first, and that we had to somehow feel bad about who we were and had been.

I still believe in a God of redemption. I still believe in Jesus as my Savior, Redeemer and Friend. But I no longer believe that Jesus wants me to be emotionally abused and shamed before being able to accept love. There is nothing in the Gospels that says “First, be ashamed of who you are. Second, tell everyone how bad you have been. Third, accept Jesus before you leave camp because you don’t know when else you’ll have the chance to be saved.”  No. What I read of Jesus is him saying immediately, “Your sins are forgiven.”  What I see Jesus doing is accepting people as human beings first and foremost.

I thought about this today because now I live in Seattle and the fog creeps in on my hillside church and parsonage every morning these days, and I’m reminded of Woody Island and how the fog seemed to choke out hope of seeing beyond what was in front of us, but then it would burn off and we’d see the beauty of creation beyond anything we could imagine. Orcas jumping fifty yards off the dock. Sea lions butting up against the pilings. Bald eagles nesting in the trees above Canoe Lake. And the lone red bull (seriously, not making this up) wandering the island, leftover from the days when cattle were ranched there, when the last homesteader left.

I don’t write this to shame my camp counselors, many of whom were just a few years older than me and had the heavy, heavy burden of trying to get kids saved before they went back home. And some of us came from some pretty rotten families. Some came from foster care. Some had been abused by elders. It’s not to say we didn’t need saving—we did.  But that week at camp was what saved us, again and again. A week among the trees, on an island away from everyone else, away from teen pressures, away from the family members who didn’t love us or couldn’t care for us. But I don’t think we were broken.  Perhaps what we needed so desperately to hear was the message of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ, simply because we were children, human beings. Not because of our own brokenness, but because of the brokenness of the world. The brokenness of a world in which a teenager took his own life.  The brokenness of a community in which parents abandoned their children. The brokenness of a place in which youth escape these pressures and pain through drug abuse and alcohol.

Maybe we did need saving, but we needed to know that God loved us, and that we weren’t broken, we weren’t damaged goods, we weren’t horrible, sinful people. We were simply children of God.  And I’d like to let my camp counselors off the hook for the job of saving us. I think many of them were trying to figure this all out for themselves as well.

The last day of camp I got up early before breakfast and morning devotions. I snuck my Discman out of my sleeping bag and crept out the door, walking down the path to Lower Inspiration Point, where the sign carved into the tree read, “Be still and know that I am God.”  There was a little peninsula with rotted-out beams in rows for a little outdoor chapel, jutting out into a point in Canoe Lake, and an old driftwood cross erected in front. A tree grew out near the tip of the peninsula, and just beyond the tree was where many kids were baptized over the years, baptized into a temporary community of faith that would be scattered by Saturday.  I sat down on the beam pews and listened to Rattle and Hum by U2, and the song “Love Rescue Me” with Bob Dylan singing came over the headphones:

                Love rescue me

                Come forth and speak to me

                Raise me up and don’t let me fall

                No man is my enemy

                My own hands imprison me

                Love rescue me

                …

                Yea, though I walk

                through the valley of the shadow

                Yea, I will fear no evil

                I have cursed Thy rod and staff

                They no longer comfort me

                Love rescue me

And in that moment as I listened to that song and that album, I kid you not, a bald eagle flew overhead, swooped down and marred the surface of the still lake waters. And I knew that I was being raised up.

The God of Church Camp that said “You must be ashamed. You must regret. You are sinful and unworthy, and you are only worthy if You accept me” was gone. That kind of thinking no longer comforted me.  Instead, this idea of God’s love—God’s love for me because I was me—saved me.

And that love by Jesus is still saving me. I have failed many times as a pastor and a mom and a wife. I have failed as a community leader. I have failed in many ways. But I’m not broken.  I’m not terrible. I’m not damaged goods. I am loved.

  

Dear Church . . . Letters from Young People about Welcoming Everyone (6)

Some time back, I received from a youth worker a packet of letters written by young people at a retreat.  These letters were written to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), urging its people to open their arms to everyone, in particular LGBTIQ people.  I asked permission to publish the letters, without the identities of the authors being revealed.  I was given permission to use them in this way.

One of the emerging realities of the culture in which we live is the dawning awareness that young people—across the theological and political spectrum—overwhelmingly believe full acceptance of LGBTIQ people is self-evidently a good thing.  At the same time, young people are leaving the church in droves—a significant number of them over the issue of the exclusion of LGBTIQ folks. 

As it prepares to make big decisions at General Assembly about how it will include people at the table, it is important for the Disciples of Christ to hear the voice of its young people on this issue.  Consequently, [D]mergent will be publishing one of these letters every Sunday morning from now through the month of May.

This letter is from the youth worker.

~Derek Penwell

Letter from Sponsor (1).jpg
Letter from Sponsor (2).jpg

Dear Church . . . Letters from Young People about Welcoming Everyone (5)

Some time back, I received from a youth worker a packet of letters written by young people at a retreat.  These letters were written to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), urging its people to open their arms to everyone, in particular LGBTIQ people.  I asked permission to publish the letters, without the identities of the authors being revealed.  I was given permission to use them in this way.

One of the emerging realities of the culture in which we live is the dawning awareness that young people—across the theological and political spectrum—overwhelmingly believe full acceptance of LGBTIQ people is self-evidently a good thing.  At the same time, young people are leaving the church in droves—a significant number of them over the issue of the exclusion of LGBTIQ folks. 

As it prepares to make big decisions at General Assembly about how it will include people at the table, it is important for the Disciples of Christ to hear the voice of its young people on this issue.  Consequently, [D]mergent will be publishing one of these letters every Sunday morning from now through the month of May.

Please take some time to listen to what our children are saying.

~Derek Penwell

Youth Letter 6 (1).jpg
Youth Letter 6 (2).jpg

Dear Church . . . Letters from Young People about Welcoming Everyone (4)

Some time back, I received from a youth worker a packet of letters written by young people at a retreat.  These letters were written to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), urging its people to open their arms to everyone, in particular LGBTIQ people.  I asked permission to publish the letters, without the identities of the authors being revealed.  I was given permission to use them in this way.

One of the emerging realities of the culture in which we live is the dawning awareness that young people—across the theological and political spectrum—overwhelmingly believe full acceptance of LGBTIQ people is self-evidently a good thing.  At the same time, young people are leaving the church in droves—a significant number of them over the issue of the exclusion of LGBTIQ folks. 

As it prepares to make big decisions at General Assembly about how it will include people at the table, it is important for the Disciples of Christ to hear the voice of its young people on this issue.  Consequently, [D]mergent will be publishing one of these letters every Sunday morning from now through the month of May.

Please take some time to listen to what our children are saying.

~Derek Penwell

Youth Letter 4.jpg

Dear Church . . . Letters from Young People about Welcoming Everyone (3)

Some time back, I received from a youth worker a packet of letters written by young people at a retreat.  These letters were written to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), urging its people to open their arms to everyone, in particular LGBTIQ people.  I asked permission to publish the letters, without the identities of the authors being revealed.  I was given permission to use them in this way.

One of the emerging realities of the culture in which we live is the dawning awareness that young people—across the theological and political spectrum—overwhelmingly believe full acceptance of LGBTIQ people is self-evidently a good thing.  At the same time, young people are leaving the church in droves—a significant number of them over the issue of the exclusion of LGBTIQ folks. 

As it prepares to make big decisions at General Assembly about how it will include people at the table, it is important for the Disciples of Christ to hear the voice of its young people on this issue.  Consequently, [D]mergent will be publishing one of these letters every Sunday morning from now through the month of May.

Please take some time to listen to what our children are saying.

~Derek Penwell

Youth Letter 3.jpg

Dear Church . . . Letters from Young People about Welcoming Everyone (2)

Some time back, I received from a youth worker a packet of letters written by young people at a retreat.  These letters were written to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), urging its people to open their arms to everyone, in particular LGBTIQ people.  I asked permission to publish the letters, without the identities of the authors being revealed.  I was given permission to use them in this way.

One of the emerging realities of the culture in which we live is the dawning awareness that young people—across the theological and political spectrum—overwhelmingly believe full acceptance of LGBTIQ people is self-evidently a good thing.  At the same time, young people are leaving the church in droves—a significant number of them over the issue of the exclusion of LGBTIQ folks. 

As it prepares to make big decisions at General Assembly about how it will include people at the table, it is important for the Disciples of Christ to hear the voice of its young people on this issue.  Consequently, [D]mergent will be publishing one of these letters every Sunday morning from now through the month of May.

Please take some time to listen to what our children are saying.

~Derek Penwell

Youth Letter 2.jpg

Lion of Judah, King of Israel [Hebrews 3:7-14]

I preached this sermon on October 29, 2006, and guess what -- the vision came true! A 53-year-old church still satisfies even charter members with traditional worship, draws young families with contemporary worship and children's church, and builds a new community on a recovery ministry. With 150-200 worshipers on Sunday and 60-90 at Celebrate Recovery, Tropical Sands Christian Church thrives because the old supports the new -- and vice versa! The premise is simple: If you want to settle down in the grasslands of Judah, you have to help the other tribes take the Promised Land!

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