"Did you not know that I must be in my Father's House?"

When I declared myself a double major in English and Theology at Notre Dame, I used to explain my seemingly useless choice by saying, "Well, I don't plan on doing anything with Theology. It's just for fun."

Ha. Ha. Ha. Good one, God.

Now, six years and a Master of Arts Degree in Theology later (and a shelf full of coffee-stained and overly-highlighted books to prove it), I am eating my words. I work full-time as a Parish Youth Minister and try to lead middle and high school-aged kiddos to Jesus. It has been my dream job since I was their age, but there's a lot of hair-pulling and face-palming in the daily grind.

Go ahead. Ask me how St. Cyril of Alexandria defended Mary as the Theotokos at the Council of Ephesus. Ask me about how St. Marc Antony became a body building machine by hibernating in a cave. Ask me all about the Theology of the Body. It'll be the first time I've actually been able to use any of this knowledge (which cost me six years of sanity).

Instead, I spend the majority of my efforts talking to youngsters about why Selena Gomez's latest hit is likely not the best song to listen to, or trying (and often failing) to be patient with parents who still don't understand why we can't "do" Confirmation in the eighth grade when it's "easier." All of the Theological knowledge I demonstrated during my comprehensive exams? It's still just sitting on the bookshelf.

Then, when I least expect it, the kids all but 'throw the book at me.'

One night, the sixth grade boy who showed up to youth group wearing shutter shades and calling himself 'swagalicious' asked how God can be both Father and Son. Wait, what? Weren't we talking about Mary?

I had written plenty of papers on Trinitarian Theology. I had read (okay, skimmed) plenty of books on the subject and darn it, I knew my Catechism. But, in that one moment, I blanked. Not my finest catechetical moment.

Months later, when I asked the same kids why Jesus would choose to be sacramentally present to us as bread (I mean, He's the Son of God; He could have picked anything!), their responses included....

Because you need bread to survive.

Because it is humble.

Because every culture knows how to make it.

Because even the poor can have it.

Wow guys, way to steal all my material. Thanks. As much as I like to think I know my Theology, these kids have serious game.

I had never really been too inspired by the mystery of the finding of the child Jesus in the temple. Don't get me wrong, it's holy and all, but it always seemed a little too straight-forward to be mysterious. Little Jesus got lost. Mary and Joseph freaked. Three days later, they found Him discussing Theology in the temple and schooling all the elders. Should we be all that surprised? After all, He is divine.

Lately, my own youth group kids have made me wonder how I would have responded if I were one of the elders. I worked hard for my Masters (most days), and if some little ragamuffin from Nowheresville, Israel rendered it totally useless, you can bet someone in the Notre Dame Theology Department would be getting an earful.

But, this is exactly what I need to be open to. Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these" (Matthew 19:14). If I view my ministry solely as what I have to offer them, it'll become nothing more than a platform for my ego. The Kingdom of Heaven already belongs to these Spongebob-watching youngsters. Theoretically, my work here is done.

Sort of.

Perhaps, I can try to offer them a deeper understanding of our life in Christ as set forth in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, but they're the ones who aren't afraid to stir the pot and ask why it matters. They're the ones whose hands shoot up in the air with questions and comments as soon as I start speaking. If anyone can best teach parrhesia, or the abiding, child-like trust in our Heavenly Father, it's them. They're the ones in whom Christ resides, calling each of us to place our trust in our Him, rather than in our accomplishments. After all, Mother Angelica once said, "It doesn't matter how many letters are at the end of your name (JD, PhD). What only matters are the two at the beginning of your name: St."

Truly, if I am going to try to help these kiddos grow into sainthood, then I have to let them do the same work in me. The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to them. They are already in their Father's House. The only question is, will I have the humility to listen to them and let them lead me there?