Perhaps it's an inheritance
from Adam, this human tendency to label and categorize every creature
that comes down the pike. In our demographic-driven society, we've taken
Adam's penchant for naming and refined it to a science. We've moved
beyond the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air. Today we
classify each other through all manner of collected data. We segment
ourselves by income levels, ethnicity, age groups, gender, lifestyles
and - the most popular pigeonholing technique of our day - generations.
We're always talkin' 'bout our generations. It all began in the 1950s,
when we gathered the post-World War II kids into a tidy little package
called the Baby Boomers, and assigned to them particular characteristics
that supposedly set them apart from their war hero forebears, to whom we
assigned the label "Builders." Then came the enigmatic
Generation X. Harder to define than their predecessors, we simply made
them the antithesis of Boomers and, thanks to Douglas Coupland and Billy
Idol, found a label. Now comes an even tougher generation to which we
are compelled to affix a label. I'm talking about that demographic
collection of young people now coming of age. They're bigger than the
Boomers, both in numbers and in potential
purchasing power (a fact not lost on marketers, movie and music
executives, clothing companies and corporate executives who are
scrambling to understand these kids).
What's in a name?
We Adams of Christianity are in our Edens, our tidy weed-free little
churches, when along comes this new demographic group. We're struggling to
give these kids a name. All the labels we've tried - "Generation
Y," "Echo Boomers," the "Millennials," the
"Internet Generation," "Mosaics," "Bridgers,"
and so on - just don't seem to stick. Perhaps it's a symptom of our
society's fragmentation and segmentation that we can't agree on what to
call this new creature. Perhaps it's a sign that we're entering a time, a
cosmos, in which the people defy labeling. But it is not for want of
trying that we have failed to assign a name to this generation.
Demographers and sociologists have been analyzing and scrutinizing today's
teenagers since their toddling days.
William Strauss and Neil Howe gave us a first glimpse at this generation
in their 1991 book "Generations: The History of America's
Future," 1584-2069. They refined and refocused their commentary in
"The Fourth Turning," a cyclical view of history published in
1997. A few years later, Christian trend-watchers got a clue that the
times, they were a-changing. (Sadly, it seems that the church is often the
last to "discover" a social change, and we tend to chase after
it just as it begins to disappear over the horizon.) Many Christian
commentators turned to the wisdom of sociologists like Strauss and Howe,
and to our own George Barna, who does manage to keep pretty good track of
trends on behalf of the church. They began to write books of their own to
warn the church about the coming changes this new generation is about to
effect. They've been struggling with the name game, though. One calls them
"Millennials," another "Bridgers," yet another
"Generation 2K" (clever marketing for a book published in the
year of the Y2K scare.) Still another brashly calls them "the revival
generation."
Regardless of their labels for this up-and-coming generation, these
writers all agree that the this generation is about to dramatically change
Christianity as we know it. Its members are the first fully postmodern,
consumer-driven generation. Media- and marketing-savvy, most have no brand
loyalty when it comes to religion. They'll dine on a seemingly
contradictory smorgasbord of beliefs, gleaned both from "Buffy the
Vampire Slayer" and "Seventh Heaven," from "Scream
3" as well as from "Dogma," from Marilyn Manson and N'sync,
from wicca and the Word.
From a ripple to a tidal wave
In their book Boomers, "Xers and Other Strangers: Understanding
the Generational Differences that Divide Us" (Focus on the
Family, 1999), Rick and Kathy Hicks use the analogy of a tidal wave to
explain just how much impact millennials will have on the church. Just as
an earthquake on the floor of the Pacific Ocean is initially unnoticed by
inhabitants of an island hundreds of miles away, the quake's effects above
the surface - a small ripple in the placid ocean waters - can grow into a
tsunami hundreds of miles and a few days later. And that tidal wave can
wipe out an entire civilization. So too can the ripples being stirred by
the millennial generation turn into a tsunami that could forever alter
Christianity as we know it if we fail to heed the warnings and take
appropriate action. The Hickses aren't the only ones to warn us of an
impending tsunami. Three other books published during the past year - all
written by evangelicals with a solid grounding in youth ministry - sound
the same alarms for the church:
"Saving the Millennial Generation: New Ways to Reach the Kids
You Care About in These Uncertain Times", by veteran youth
minister Dawson McAllister and writer Pat Springle, repackages much of
Strauss and Howe's research, mixes in a bit of Francis Schaeffer and Josh
McDowell, and presents it through McAllister's distinctly evangelical
lens. His "Dawson McAllister Live" call-in radio program
(carried by contemporary Christian stations everywhere), provides
McAllister with plenty of real-world examples from the millennials, who
contact him weekly with questions about everything from dating to drug
addiction. His thin book provides a good summary of the challenges facing
the church, and includes a six-week leader's guide to facilitate a church
study about the millennial generation.
Like McAllister's book,
"Generation 2K: What Parents Need to Know About the Millennials,"
by Wendy Murray Zoba, is packed with analysis about this generation. Zoba,
an editor for Christianity Today magazine, is also the mother of three
teenage sons and has 10 years of experience in youth ministry. Much of
Generation 2K book is based on interviews and Zoba's first-hand
interaction with teens at experimental "youth church" meetings.
A skillful reporter and storyteller, Zoba also does a good job of letting
teens speak for themselves through the interviews. Their voices -
expressing hope, fears, doubt and faith - come through clearly throughout the book.
End-of-chapter summaries, complete with "prayer points," help
the reader to use this text as either a prayer book or a study
guide.
"Fire on the Horizon: How the Revival Generation Will Change
the World," by Winkie Pratney, stands out as a truly
prophetic voice in the millennial wilderness. While McAllister, Zoba and
the Hickses focus on presenting demographics and sociological issues with
a Christian slant, Pratney, a youth evangelist originally from New
Zealand, presents a more prophetic,
scripture-based perspective. "Fire on the Horizon" challenges
the church to embrace a global spiritual awakening among young people, and
also encourages teens with a powerful message of God's love and hope. It
is a hopeful book, but also a book of warning. Throughout it, Pratney
employs the biblical metaphor of fire (a word mentioned 549 times in
scripture) in the context of today's youth culture. Contrasting
God's judgment fire and revival fire, Pratney warns that "fire - one
kind or another, ready or not - is blazing its way toward us."
Each of these books should be of interest to those who want to learn more
about this generation. They're all thin, inexpensive paperbacks
("Boomers, Xers and Other Strangers," by Rick and Kathy Hicks,
is thicker and costlier, but examines many generations.) My only criticism
about McAllister's and Zoba's books has to do with the teens interviewed
or cited in both works. The majority are "church kids," who may
not reflect the ideas and interests of other teens. Nevertheless, both
McAllister's and Zoba's books provide insight into young people. Pratney's
book should be read prayerfully and prophetically, as a map for
future ministry to the overchurched, underchurched and unchurched
millennials.
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