Disasters in Youth Ministry, Chapter 2: The Lock-In

Another (not so) great moment from my career in Youth Ministry.

In May of 2000 I took a full time position as Director of youth Ministries at Bluff Park United Methodist Church in Birmingham, AL. It was my first full-time position in Youth Ministry. By the end of that first summer I became fairly comfortable with my position and with the group, but I still had much to learn.

The tradition for the few years before my arrival at Bluff Park was to end summer with Youth Week. This was a week filled with nightly activities and capped off by a huge Friday event and then Youth Sunday. I loved the idea and decided to keep the tradition alive. As I met and talked with the youth leaders they expressed that a lock-in would be the best way to end the week.

I absolutely hate lock-ins. I asked if there was anything else we could do. The kids begged. It had been a few years since the last one and everyone was dying to have another. I finally agreed. So we began to plan the week’s events, including the lock-in.

We didn’t plan your typical stay-at-the-church-all-night-and-play-games-and-watch-movies lock-in. We would start out at the church. Then it was off for Broomball (a ball, 40 kids with ‘brooms’, two hockey nets, and an ice rink) and midnight bowling! Then back to the church for games, movies, and food.

Finally Youth Week arrived. We held events at the church Monday –Thursday. I don’t remember all of them. I think there was a video scavenger hunt. I know we had a messy game night. Mostly just general fun and frivolity. Over the course of the 4 days we averaged about 35-40 kids per event. Not bad.

In the early stages of planning I lobbied for adult volunteers to assist with the week’s events. I secured at least two for each day. I thought I might need more for the lock-in, but as the week wore on it looked like 40 was going to be our top number. I decided 50 would be an optimistic estimate. I felt comfortable that the 4 adults (including myself and my summer intern) could handle crowd control and transportation.

Friday finally arrived. I slept late that morning to make up for the sleep I would miss that night. I spent the day taking care of last minute details. I confirmed our reservations at the ice rink (for broomball) and the bowling alley. I went to the local Piggly Wiggly to get snacks and drinks for the evening. Then I tried to take a nap before the festivities.

Soon it was time for kids to arrive. I went down stairs to our meeting room to wait.

My adults showed up as scheduled.

Kids started to arrive a few at a time.

And a few more.

And a dozen more.

And several more.

And 20 more.

I started to get a little worried.

And more.

And more.

And more.

When all was said and done we had close to 80 people including adults and kids. I was floored!

I was shocked that this many kids showed up. I was excited that this many kids showed up. I was scared as hell that this many kids showed up.

I went into scramble mode trying to arrange transportation. We could shuttle, but the ice rink was 20 minutes away and the bowling alley was 20 minutes from there. Shuttling was not an option.

I convinced a parent or two to stay on and help with transportation to and from our activities, and then they could go home for the night.

This still left us with 80 people and about 60 seats. We tried to call a couple more parents. No luck.

Finally I made a decision. We had a few drivers. I decided to let some of the kids drive. Only their family members and/or people who rode with them to the church could ride with them. Then we would cram a few extras into the mini-bus and we were set.

I talked to the drivers. I told them to be careful. I told them to stay in a caravan. I told them to BE CAREFUL!

We were off.

I took the lead. We avoided the interstate. I made sure we stayed at a safe speed. We made the 9-mile trip in about 35 minutes.

We arrived safely at the Pelham Ice Complex. I breathed a long sigh of relief. We’d made it.

My first experience with Broomball was a blast. We played for a couple of hours rotating in and out 40 people at a time. Everyone had fun. No one got hurt. It was fun for all.

At midnight it was time to load up and head for Vestavia Bowl. We were running a few minutes behind schedule, and I had to take care of our final bill at the ice complex. So I sent the other vehicles on their way with the other church van and its adult driver in the lead. Again I implored the teen drivers: Be careful. Don’t speed. Don’t be stupid. Be careful. They were off.

A couple of minutes later I set out with my brood of adolescents. Ready for a couple of hours of bowling.

We drove a few miles north on US 31 through Pelham. Just as we were about to cross the Hoover City Limits traffic began to slow. Soon I noticed cars in the left lane slowing drastically and merging to the right. My mouth went dry.

I saw a couple of vehicles up ahead stopped in the left lane. People were out of the vehicles and milling around in the roadway. My breath caught in my throat.

I noticed both vehicles were cars. No church vans. I looked to the shoulder for our other church vehicle. I knew that if our kids were in an accident Darrell would have stopped even if he were not involved. No church vans. I began to breathe a little. As we got closer I tried to examine the vehicles and the dark faces hoping to not see anything or anyone familiar. I didn’t.

At first.

One of the people standing between the vehicles turned. Jeff. My heart sank to my feet. I immediately veered the mini-bus in front of the damaged vehicles and stopped. I jumped out and ran to the crash scene.

Two vehicles full of BPUMC kids had crashed into each other. A pedestrian crossed the road in front of Jeff. He slammed on his breaks and was rear-ended by Becky. I thought I would be sick. No one was hurt, but the vehicles were badly damaged.

Police vehicles began to arrive. I remembered the 5-6 illegal passengers I was carrying in the 15-passenger mini-bus. Jeff called his dad. Becky called her dad. I told them I had to get the kids to the bowling alley and I would be right back.

I grabbed a couple of Jeff & Becky’s passengers and threw them in the bus. Then I jumped in and raced to the bowling alley. I did not have a cell phone while we lived in Birmingham, so I had no way to let the other vehicles know about our delay.

Finally I arrived at the bowling alley and found our group. I let the adults know what was going on and told them I would be back as soon as possible. I took the smaller van (instead of the mini-bus) and headed back to the accident.

I had no idea what to expect when I go there. Enraged parents. Hysterical teenagers. Harried police officers.

My mind was racing, and the track was not a pretty one. “What if a car hit one of the kids while they were waiting to get the accident cleared. I hope these dads aren’t violent. I’m going to lose my job. I guess we’ll have to move back to Florence. Should I cancel the rest of the night? God, I hate lock-ins!”

I arrived back at the accident scene. The vehicles were moved from the highway. Both kids’ dads were on site. I parked in a nearby gravelly area and walked over to the kids and their parents.

Everyone was calm. Everyone was kind. No one had died while I was gone. The police finished their reports and told everyone they could leave. We watched a tow truck drive away with Becky’s car. Jeff’s was still drivable.

All of the kids decided to stay at the lock-in. So we loaded into the van and headed to the bowling alley.

I spent the rest of the night afraid of what the future held. I tried my best to keep up a brave, happy visage. A few times I had kids ask me if I was all right. Apparently my efforts weren’t working. One even asked me if I was going to get fired.

I wondered the same thing.

The next day everyone went home. I stayed and cleaned up for a while, then went home. When I got there I told Misty what happened, then I called Reid, the pastor at Bluff Park, to tell him what happened. He wasn’t home. I left a message and went to bed.

That afternoon I was mostly unconscious when I heard the phone ring. I heard, “I think he’s still asleep. Hang on.”

Misty came in and told me it was Reid. My boss.

I groaned. I cringed. Then I got up and answered the phone. I expected the worst.

He asked how the night went. I told him what happened. He said he’d already talked to the parents. No one was too upset. I think his parting words were, “Well, lesson learned.”

I let out a sigh of relief and went back to bed.

Lesson learned.