The first weekend in April found me and my CW advertising department cohort in Edmonton, attending one of Canada's largest national youth conferences. More than 13,000 youth showed up for YC 2002—a mind-boggling concept, but one to make marketing types kick up their heels and dance.

We were working the booth, pitching our youth publication (CW Connect) to everyone and anyone who wanted to listen, and to those who didn't. Since we were located across from the Leader's Lounge where the musical guests (including Audio Adrenaline, Tobymac and Michael W. Smith—can anyone say "screaming teenagers?") were giving interviews, it was, shall we say, loud.

By the end of two days, our voices were scratchy, our feet were numb and mere exhaustion would have been a welcome relief.

But like all good martyrs (or maybe bad martyrs?), I felt proud. I was sacrificing myself for the greater good—more subscriptions! Working for a national newspaper is an important job, after all. These youth could learn a thing or two from my example.

I even gave up the chance to interview Michael W. Smith for the cause. Now my martyrdom complex was in full effect.

I have loved Smitty (as we close and personal fans call him) for as long as I can remember—I've long since worn out his early albums. "Friends are friends forever" was sung at my high school graduation. "Place in this world" ministered to my searching heart in college. His newest songs on the Worship album minister to my searching heart now.

I greatly looked forward to his Sunday night concert—the final event of the weekend. "I gave up all the other concerts and events to concentrate more fully on my work," I told myself. "I deserve to sit back and enjoy a good show."

The first number was a fast one as Smitty bounded through the crowd, full of charisma and slapping hands with eager youth. But after that song, he set the guitar down.

My heart dropped as he announced, "If you came here tonight to hear the hits, you'll have to come back next year." Next year?! No hits?! Say it ain't so…

Then as Smitty sat down at the piano and started to play the most amazing thing happened. As the strains of the old hymn "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" swelled through the Skyreach Centre, thousands of youth—previously screaming their approval (Smitty was filming a DVD segment that night, after all!)—stood quietly, many with arms raised and eyes closed.

And it didn't end.

When the other bands played, and there were several that weekend, the aisles were busy, people were coming and going, getting food, going for a cigarette, laughing with friends.

But not now.

Long after the songs finished, they kept singing. Never before have I heard "Agnus Dei" sung with such fervor, echoing up to the rafters of the stadium and beyond—"Alleluia! Alleluia! For our Lord God Almighty reigns…"

From the stage, Smitty observed, "Guys, this is a little taste of a little taste of what heaven is going to be like." If nothing else elicited applause, that one statement brought the house down.

And it brought tears to my eyes.

Change of focus
All weekend my focus was on my job—giving out papers, connecting with potential writers, schmoozing with the best of them. But that one moment brought it all into sharp relief. For that one moment the exhaustion melted away and I got a glimpse of the big picture.

The weekend was not about me, or any of the other exhibitors or bands or workshops or games. It was about coming together to worship, to celebrate the One who was our entire reason for being there in the first place. It was a challenge to set aside our agendas (and our martyrdom complexes) and realize what it is really all about.

I re-learned a prayer that last night at YC—one Isaac Watts wrote years ago; one that Smitty played; one the youth sang and one that changed my life yet again.

"When I survey the wondrous cross, on which the Prince of Glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride.

"Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ, my God; all the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.

"Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small: Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."