By:Nick Buglione
With a cluster of guitars in the corner and walls adorned with more rock posters than crucifixes or likenesses of Jesus Christ, the room looks more like that of a teenage head banger than a 23-year-old man of God.
In two years, Giambalvo has galvanized Calvary's youth ministry, swelling its ranks and making it a widely successful model for other churches. He's seen lives change, but none more dramatically perhaps than his own.
As a teenager coming of age in the Glendale section of Queens in the 1990s, Giambalvo was about as far away from God as one could come. "I hated God and I hated Christianity," Giambalvo said. "You know, 'What God?'"
He was the quintessential alienated youth, listening to heavy metal music, dressing head to toe in black and hanging out in a cemetery on Myrtle Avenue.
One of the lone white faces in an increasingly Hispanic neighborhood, Giambalvo said he was the victim of racially motivated robberies and beatings too many times to recall.
Three or four attacks stick out in his mind for their sheer severity and randomness, including one in which he was beaten by about 20 members of the Hispanic gang, the Latin Kings, on Myrtle Avenue for unknowingly "walking through their turf." "They beat me senseless," Giambalvo said. "I got it for no reason."
Although his physical injuries were temporary, the attacks took a far more exacting toll on him psychologically. Drinking became the common recreation for Giambalvo, and he and his friends became consumed with racial hatred.
"We were probably the biggest racists you ever met in your life," he said. "When you're getting your bike stolen by a 45-year-old Spanish guy, you're going to learn hate real fast."
His hatred for minorities was perhaps matched only by his hatred for Christianity and organized religion. Giambalvo took an interest in the occult, practicing black magic and experimenting frequently with the Ouija board.
"It was very dark, very depressing," he said. "I was a spiritual person, just on the wrong end of the street."
Then a phone call changed his life. Giambalvo was about 16 when the local Lutheran church called because, according to its records, he hadn't received Confirmation, and a class for those wishing to receive the sacrament was forming. "My mom gave me the number and told me to call and say that I wasn't going," Giambalvo said.
Maybe it was curiosity or an unspoken desire to change a life headed in the wrong direction, but Giambalvo surprisingly enrolled.
"When I went to the first class, they looked at me in horror," Giambalvo said, recalling the stares his unconventionally dark wardrobe drew. "The pastor had to sit aside with me for over one hour and explain how the Bible was organized."
But Giambalvo stuck it out and continued to attend the classes for three weeks, even reading the Bible on his own time. The result was a complete transformation.
"I didn't want to do the things I had been doing anymore," he said, explaining the effect that the Bible had on him. "One day I just said, 'This is who I am and this is what I believe.'"
Scrapping his old beliefs for new ones wasn't easy; in fact, it severed friendships. "I lost a lot of friends, and I didn't mind," Giambalvo said. "My true friends stuck around."
After graduating high school, Giambalvo studied theology at Concordia College so he could one day become a pastor. "I came to the conclusion that working for the church was what I wanted to do," he said.
But he eventually grew disillusioned with the hierarchical structure of the church and its "hypocrisy as an institution." Giambalvo abandoned the idea of becoming a pastor by the time he finished college, instead seeking a career in animal care.
Two years ago, however, a clergyman he knew through school passed his name along to Rev. Andrew Jagow, the pastor of Calvary Lutheran Church, which was searching for a candidate to revitalize the church's youth ministry.
"I didn't want to do it at first," Giambalvo said, though he eventually accepted the position after visiting the church.
He knew little about how to run a youth ministry, only that he didn't want to "do the corny church youth group junk." Giambalvo figured if he created a hangout atmosphere, the kids would come. And they did.
He started bringing his dog Britney to work with him and offered to teach the guitar, an instrument he picked up in college, to anyone willing to learn. He created a youth room in the church, complete with a pool table, television and DVD player.
About a year ago, he introduced something he calls "Calvary shows." It's a monthly concert series featuring bands from all over Long Island that have become widely popular. The revenue from Calvary show ticket sales now funds most of the youth ministry's activities, Giambalvo said.
"It's a great place to meet people, and it's a fun, safe environment," David Bivone, 16, a member of the youth ministry who frequents the shows.
When Giambalvo took the reins, the youth ministry had about 12 kids total between ages 11 and 18. Now, it boasts more than 20 kids who stop at the church daily, and anywhere from 300 to 450 kids show up for the concerts.
"I think that going to the youth [ministry] is so much better because he made it so fun and enjoyable," Bivone said. "Nat is just a great guy."
That's not to say that the group is all fun and games. The kids do a great deal of community outreach, delivering food to the homeless every month, among other projects.
Having recently moved to East Meadow so he can be closer to the church, Giambalvo has no plans of leaving his post. "I never imagined this would happen," he said.
