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Many Hats

© Lisa Beamer

When I went to Acquire the Fire recently, I went wearing a variety of hats. I was wearing my "Mom" hat, accompanying my 15-year-old son, hoping it would be a life-changing experience for him. I was wearing my "Youth Leader" hat, which comes by default from the "Mom" role, since our small church does not have an official Youth Pastor. Moreover, I was wearing my "Christian-in-need-of-rejuvination" hat, one that I've put on from time to time throughout the past 20 years. I wasn't sure which hat would get more use over the weekend, so having them all with me seemed like the best bet.

The "Mom" hat went on first. Actually, that one went on months earlier when I talked my son into going and agreed to be one of the leaders for the event. At 15, my dear son is in a very frustrating stage of questioning God and faith and all that goes with it. When he accepted Jesus four years ago, I was overjoyed, but I naively allowed myself to believe that it was a done deal, that he'd never question his faith again. Wrong. Adolescence has brought with it peer pressures and worldly influences that, despite my best efforts, have caused him to question the importance of his faith, or at the very least, to doubt its relevance on a day-to-day basis. I saw ATF as a spiritual booster shot for him and was praying it would be so.

Jumping ahead, along with two other youth parents, I donned my "Youth Leader" hat. Between chaperoning the kids around the arena and hauling them to and from the event, we were all praying that this weekend would prove to be just what these kids needed in their lives.

Then there was the last hat. I went to ATF at a point in my life when I needed my own spiritual booster shot. I was tired. I needed God to reach down and touch me where I was so that I would once again realize his awesomeness in my life and see things from the perspective of the fully faithful being that I so want to be.

Enter the loud music.

I was prepared. Secretly, I was looking forward to hearing the loud music. Some people love to praise God in quietness, and I enjoy that too, but how better than to praise him by singing at the top of your lungs while sitting five rows away from the monstrous speakers that were vibrating every inch of the arena? We leaders had to resort to sign language to communicate, but that was ok. We were hearing words of glory and praise to God the way they were meant to be that weekend-LOUD.

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