At the time of the Olympic Games in Salt Lake City, the torch ignited in Athens was carried across the United States by the customary series of runners. However, on January 5, 2002, an unusual happening in Racine, Wisconsin, made news.1

As the Olympic torch made its journey, there was always a support runner who jogged off camera alongside the designated runner, prepared to carry the torch in the unlikely event that something unexpected caused them to be unable to complete their assigned lap. But today, all the cameras in the Racine environs were focused on Bob Resch, the hometown runner doing his family and community proud. As he crossed the Union Pacific Railroad tracks that run through the city, his chest was out; his chin was up, his arm holding the torch high. This was his moment in history.

Then a lone cameraman captured an amazing scene. Caught up in the ecstasy of it all, Bob Resch looked over at his support runner. Perhaps he detected a glint of disappointment in his eye, we do not know. But in a burst of contagious joy, Bob passed the torch to his support runner and gave him the thrill of joining the train of runners linking ancient Greece with 2002 and Salt Lake City.

In his 1986 book Passing on the Torch, Roger Dudley, picked up on Olympic imagery to describe the privilege given to parents and fellow believers in Deuteronomy 6:6: "These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children." Sadly, our cumulative scores today put us far out of the medals competition. From Dudley’s most recent report,

It seems reasonable to believe that at least 40 percent to 50 percent of Seventh-day Adventist teenagers in North America are essentially leaving the church by their middle 20s. This figure may well be higher. Some will return eventually (perhaps a fifth of the dropouts), but, of course, more may also leave.2

I belong to a very small congregation. My church sits three blocks from the main campus of one of the country’s higher ranked state universities. It’s a small, graying congregation whose history epitomizes all the challenges of small-church America. Still, in the congregation most weeks sit six bright, energetic college students. We see them as a sacred trust. What will make our church a setting in which they can thrive? We really don’t need to guess. They’re more than ready to tell us.

In his final report on his ten-year longitudinal study of Adventist youth, Why Our Teenagers Leave the Church: Personal Stories from a 10-year Study, Dudley shares from his personal correspondence with scores of the young respondents to his surveys. Let their voices ring in our ears:

Sitting in a church pew, surrounded by people, feels more lonely than sitting in a park playing solitaire.

I would rather spend Sabbath on my own than try to carve out a place in the ice.

Members are eager to judge by outward appearances and don’t even bother to get to know someone inside.

A lot of members are "people-watching" instead of "Jesus-watching."

The level of control that the church tries to wield over an individual’s life disturbs me.

I’m disturbed by the tendency toward a judgmental response to anything new and different; toward anything that makes people think about why they believe the way they do.

Staying spiritually alive is difficult. The church is full of gray heads—wise, needed parts of the body of Christ. But why must they be so stuffy and pharisaical, insisting the young people worship in the same silent, sleepy way they do?

Everyone tells us that we are the church of tomorrow, but I and millions of others are trying to tell you and everyone else who will listen that there will be no church of tomorrow if we are not recognized and accepted as we are, and allowed to put our youthful energy and new ideas into effect.

The church focuses so much on "should’s" and rules and theology, but not enough on actions, such as working in the community and accepting those who don’t fit into the narrow box the church feels they should.

I need to hear about Jesus. I need to hear that He loves me. I need to hear someone remind me how He showed me His love. So I’ve found other places to go; places that weren’t distracted by someone else’s writings or other churches’ teachings. They told me only about my Lord, His sacrifice and His love, and what it means to me.

Are you wondering if you should have done anything differently while we were growing up? Are you searching for a foolproof method for reaching the younger generation? Forget it.

Are you waiting until you can really get the youth program organized? Forget that, too.

Youth ministry isn’t neat, time-efficient, or organized. It’s exhausting.

But I’m a Seventh-day Adventist Christian today because I discovered Jesus Christ in your church family, and I believed you needed my help to show His love to our community.

I know a youth class still meets every Sabbath morning in the same room with folding metal chairs that scrape on the green and yellow linoleum. There’s probably another girl with long hair and braces who sits in my place now. I hope you give her more than a baptismal certificate and a handshake when she’s baptized.

Give her a cradle roll class to teach. Give her a sermon to preach.

Let her know that you need her.

Kids hate to let people down, especially people they love. If you need them and trust them, they’ll get the job done.3

We may, in the end, be surprised betimes by who is passing the torch to whom.

Notes and References

1. "Carrying and Sharing the Olympic Torch!" Union Pacific News, Jan. 2, 2002.
2. Roger R. Dudley, Why Our Teenagers Leave the Church (Hagerstown, Md.: Review and Herald, 2000), 35.
3. Becky Lane Scoggins, "What My Church Did Right," Adventist Review, July 25, 1996.

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