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I was four. I was in Sunday School. I remember the day vividly.

The teacher told me that Jesus died. I was hysterical, inconsolable, bawling... Who killed Jesus? Why did they do that? Don't they know he was just born? (I realize how concrete children are especially now that I have 25 of my own)

My mother asked me why I was crying. I couldn't make the words.

The teacher made a well-intended mistake. She forgot to tell me the end of the story. She left out  one third of Jesus' life-death-life story. And as much as this could become a post on theology, I don't really want to head that way...

Instead, I think about the ways that we get upset before we hear the end of the story. So often, we see our young boys with pants sagging, we see our children that love Nicki Minaj/2 Chainz, we see our children referring to themselves as dudes with "swag"... And we judge. We say they should "pick up a book", that they should spend less time with video games/Instagram, that they should conform to what we think they should be.

I won't even go into the ways that White children are not viewed with such gaze. Just know that white supremacy is real. Kids in the suburbs do the same thing, but are never called "lazy" or "lacking ambition"... Of course, they rest in the luxurious arms of white privilege... I digress...

When I was a child, I wanted to be a superstar. The kid wanted to be something like a mix of Beyonce/Alicia Keys/Brandy.. Acting, singing, dancing, taking pictures, being loved by the world. My parents, to whom I owe my ALL, never said "That's dumb. Go read a book". I recognize and claim privilege here (as those with privilege should) because both of my parents worked relatively flexible jobs. Both graduates of liberal arts colleges and a remarkably progressive seminary, my parents knew by experience that all things are connected. Theater helps with writing; music helps with math... There's no such thing as a waste of time. But even for those community members (not just parents) who do not have the means to break from work and support a game or play in person, it is still important for us to support in spirit. All things matter.

Instead, they showed up at every play, every musical, every musical theater performance. No matter how big or little my part was. For them, a passion was something to be tended to, not stifled. Once you have supported a person who is capable of having passion, you have lit an eternal flame.

But every year, without fail, around Christmastime/Jordan sneaker Day, I see the Twitter Posts. The Facebook statuses. The Instagram shots.. I hear the news, in the streets and on television. Someone starts this uppity diatribe about "These fools paying rent money on sneakers and blah blah"... That may be true. But what we should be challenging is the fact that in this capitalist culture, our youth have been told that they do not matter unless they have things. They do not matter until they buy a piece of the American pie... Who's fault is that?

In any case, I suppose what concerns me is our tendency to write the ending before we have seen it happen. Count it. How many times have you judged the young boys who breakdance on the train for change? Or the young girl in your circle who says she wants to be a model? Or the brother who says he wants to be a ball player? How often have we dismissed who they are? When have we ever given them a space to be exactly who they are?

I really hope that some day, we stop blaming the symptom and instead treat the disease. Our children are hurting. They want to be loved, acknowledged, supported, affirmed, inspired... The silliness that we see, the sagging pants, the world star videos, the undying desire to dance for them bandz.... That's the symptom. The disease? They grow up in a world that does not love them. And that's our fault.