I need you

Needing other people makes us vulnerable. That’s why we don’t talk about it. Needing other people is only human, and that’s why we need to talk about it. That’s why I want to talk about it now.

I’m 22 years old, a student in Oslo, and I believe in God. If you are my age, I hope these words will resonate and awaken a longing in your heart. If you are younger than me, my prayer is that this text will give you hope for the future. If you are older than me, and especially one or two generations older, and believe in God, then I am talking to you. And in what I want to say, I know that I am a voice for others who are similar to me: in their early twenties, students, and believers in God.

I’m a voice for the people you see outside your kitchen window every day, with backpacks on their backs and listening to their headsets as they make their way to the reading room, and the boisterous young people you see at the youth area at church coffee every Sunday. I’m a voice for young Christians, who appear confident, but behind a polished facade feel frighteningly insecure. Those who appear insultingly independent, strong and confident, but who deep down are weak, insecure and vulnerably dependent on others. I am a voice for those who give the impression of being secure, but who in reality are groping their way in the dark, on shaky ground. I’m a voice for a generation that believes, that leads the way, that sees, recognises and encourages, but that still – and perhaps more than ever – longs to hear the opinions of someone with more experience, longs for someone who has led the way before them, and not least, longs to be seen, recognised and encouraged.

And that voice says loud and clear: “I need you.”

I need you, who have lived longer than me. I need you, who have experienced the ups and downs of life. I need you who have been let down, but still managed to forgive. And I need you who have been let down, but find forgiveness difficult. I need you who have made a mess of things, but managed to sort it out. And I need you who have made such a mess that it’s impossible to fix. I need you to tell me that life can be good and life can be bad, but to believe that God is there no matter what. I need to know you, you who are a witness that God can handle all of life, that He can handle all of who I am.

And I need you now. I need you to be that role model, that guide, that witness to a faith that lasts, that keeps me from becoming part of the statistic that says 59% of Christians aged 18–29 are leaving the faith, leaving God. Because if you don’t lead the way, someone else will – and I don’t know where that road leads.

I need you. You who have been alive for a while, with your adventures, experiences and roller coasters. I need you to be there. That you want to spend time with me. That you want to share your life skills – and not put them on the shelf just because your own children have moved out, or because you’ve retired and have to spend all your time renovating your cabin or stepping up your training to beat your neighbour at Birken. Your knowledge and life experience are desperately needed. We young people need you. I need you. I’m going to walk a path that is surprisingly similar to the one you’ve travelled.

I would even go so far as to say that you need me too. You need to share your expertise, your stories, your experience. You need the encouragement of seeing how valuable you are to those of us who are younger than you, how valuable you are to me. And then I think you need to be encouraged by the fact that your faith is also my faith, by hearing that your God is also my God; He is the God of the rising generation. I think you need to be reminded of the hope that the next generation will share and pass on your faith, your hope. That it is also my faith, my hope. I think you need to be encouraged and blessed by making a difference to a future beyond your own lifetime, by making a difference to me. Just as Moses mattered to the next generation, by equipping and mattering to Joshua, who led the Israelites into the Promised Land, after Moses’ death.

Most of all, I believe that we both need to feel loved, valuable and useful, through meaning something to each other, in a relationship across generations. 

Needing other people is vulnerable, so we don’t talk about it. Needing other people is human, so we need to talk about it.

That’s why I hope you’ll talk about it too. Not with ink on a piece of paper like this, but directly, with someone who needs you. Know that you are longed for. Know that you are wanted. Know that you are needed. Listen to the voice of the young – our cry and our plea to be heard, and let us into your life. Unpolished. Honest. Just as you are. With a desire to see us. Unpolished. Honest. Just as we are.

And please do it now. Normally, I’d suggest next Sunday at church – if you see us there. Or get in touch through the youth worker and invite us to your home for dinner, to a café, on a walk in the woods, or just as easily into your everyday life, where you do the dishes, fix the car, or help your children or grandchildren with their homework. And right now, there’s more time than ever to reach out, whether it’s for a walk in the park or a phone call.

It’s no big deal how – but we pray that you will meet us, and show us, so we dare to meet you. Because at the end of the day, we’re all walking the same path, and it’s easier to find your way with someone who knows the terrain.

The article is written by Marita Haugland, a student at Fjellhaug International University College. It is taken from Skaperkraft.no and reproduced with permission.