What I learned about church post college Part I: Hurting

It’s taken me the better part of 3 years to understand and undertake this writing. I haven’t approached this subject in extended written form during this time, because of my frustrations with what’s transpired. Sometimes we don’t have the words to express what we want to say, even though we have the need to say something. I haven’t said much about it in the past, in part because I knew if I tried to tell the story it wouldn’t make sense to me; there was too much that transpired in too short a period of time. Too much anger, too much hurt and not enough grace for the very fallible people who lead the church.

Why now?

I am on the verge of moving into a church as a leader. This possibility scares me, because I know and understand church leadership to be a very delicate thing. I know what its failures feel like, having seen and experienced them first hand. Before I can lead, I need to confront my fears about leading and those fears come from past experiences.

Additionally, I am in a place with my study of God that I must confront the past. I’ve been reading the prophets for too long and too intensely to ignore their ability to confront the church. Their ability to confront did not diminish their desire for the church to be whole. I’ve learned a lot simply reading their stories. I believe readers need to know this. That the study of the Bible has moved and convicted my heart to look back and bring healing to what have been very dark days. That I have found the courage to speak, even though I desired to remain silent and let it go. I cannot in good conscious continue to remain silent, as I believe God calls us to speak up, even when we are afraid of the end results.

Having found my inner calm, I am ready to share. Like any good story it has a prologue.

4 years of service

When I first arrived at college, my goal was to find a church and get plugged in. It took a few weeks, and I ended up at a Baptist Church two blocks south of campus. This old church had a lot of grey hairs and was very concerned about its diminishing size. They wanted something more. This place made me feel welcome, like I belonged and so it was there I stayed, through thick and thin.

As I was a ministry major I quickly became involved in the youth ministry, only to discover that while youth were showing up, the leadership of the youth wasn’t. It had fallen apart and a power vacuum existed of who was going to lead. As a freshman who was brand new to the situation I wasn’t interested in leading the show. I knew I didn’t have the time to make it work, even though I knew what a good youth ministry looked like. Our youth didn’t exactly fit that picture. Neither did we. By the end of the first semester, someone had stepped up to fill the gap, but they weren’t in line with the leadership of the church, so the leadership left. When second semester started I looked around, saw two other students who were still engaged and we asked ourselves, “should we let this die?” Our answer was no. Letting it go was not an option. Even though we lack skill we made up for it in prayer and dialogue. Lots of prayer. I mean lots of prayer! We prayed before the meeting started, we prayed during it and we got together afterward to pray again. It was hard, but by the end of that year we were the leaders and we had formed a somewhat solid relationship with the youth.

Over the summer the head pastor left. The next year we three came back and picked up where we left off. Although we prayed less urgently, because our need was less obvious, we still made progress. I don’t remember when, but at some point we got one of the greatest assets to our team: a southern Baptist minister. His specialty wasn’t youth, but his heart was for people to know Christ. So, rather imperfectly we pursued that end.

We explored options, continued talking with each other about the youth and set about to try and build a program with not much more than a handful of volunteers and an extremely limited budget. Did I mention it was an extremely limited budget? We set about building a program and we were making good progress; we were learning along the way.

In our fourth year the church hired a new pastor. I wasn’t always a fan of his preaching, but he was never shy about preaching the truth. For that he had my respect. He didn’t agree with the methods the Southern Baptist minister was using with our youth. The disagreement led to my friend and mentor leaving the program. At that moment I knew I had a choice to make. For 3 and a half years we had been building into the youth that we were going to be there for them, that unlike the leaders from our first year we were not going to leave. And so on principle I stayed, to finish what we had started when we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into.

At the end of our time, my graduation, I was looking for work. I was told that despite my commitment the church was looking to go in a different direction. That was all. That was frustrating. That hurt. That someone could walk in, not take the time to understand what we had been building or get to know us and dismiss our work in a desire for a new direction. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. I left that church hurt, but I knew I had achieved what I set out to accomplish. Being present and consistent while I was a part of the town.

Graduation

The fun part of graduation is the pride everyone has in what you’ve achieved. The part that sucks is you’re now a college graduate and some people don’t think very highly of college graduates, especially those with specialties in youth ministry. I had amassed what I thought was great experience and a surefire way of getting into any church I desired. So I focused on where I wanted to go, and where I wanted to get plugged in. After a summer of trying to set dates and make contact (and receiving terrible customer service in the process) I had nothing to show for my efforts.

The Summer

I spent a second year as an overnight camp counselor in Indiana. I was a special needs counselor this time around, and was ready for anything. Or so I thought. I spent three and a half weeks working with a very special needs child and I didn’t take care of myself in the process. I was determined that my charge was going to have the best weeks of his life. I was going to MAKE it work for him. I was his last chance counselor; if I couldn’t do it he would go home. That wasn’t an option. It took all of my strength to make sure this happened. My charge had a great summer. He went home happy with the biggest smile on his face and tons of wonderful memories. I went home bittersweet, exhausted and burnt out. And without future employment.

The Letdown

My parents had moved away from our home base in Washington and were now living in Idaho. While there I became familiar with a movement of Christianity that couldn’t train its pastors through colleges and seminaries. It was odd to think that I had more of an education at a younger age than most of their ministers would ever have. What they lacked in degrees they made up for in experience and communal awareness. I respected their work, even though I was frustrated when they mocked academics and higher learning. Although when my parents brought this up the church leaders stopped doing it. It’s one thing to make a mistake, it is another to be humble enough to admit it and make a change. For their efforts at change, these men had my respect. That, and they didn’t let their lack of formal education stop them from preaching the truth. The truth is just as relevant no matter how educated the person is. I thought about being a part of this movement, but there were no opportunities for someone with my experience.

During this time it became clear that my family would have to move again. At this time the church in Washington I had been in contact with finally gave me the time of day. They wanted me on the very day my parents needed me most. I heard my ‘dream’ calling, the dream of serving in the state I wanted.

I turned them down.

I turned them down because their customer service sucked. I turned them down because they had ignored me for 4 months. I turned them down because they were offering me a chance opportunity that conflicted with the stark reality of my parent’s need. I turned them down because I wanted no part in a gospel that doesn’t work itself out through tangible experiences. I turned them down. I watched what I had wanted most, had labored four years to get, die within arm’s reach. So much for four years of sacrifice and a summer of exhausting service.

At this time my expectations of the church became thin. I was sorting through what I knew to be true and what I experienced. I was extremely disappointed with church leadership in at least two denominations.

The purveying negative attitude I envisioned said, “We don’t need young educated people and we’re not really interested in using you, unless you come when we say come, do as we think is right, do what we tell you to do and do it without you having to tell us what you think.” We wonder why the 20-30 year olds are leaving the church. It’s not a secret, it’s because we told we’re not valuable unless we’re doing what someone else believes is right.

That’s my bitterness talking.

Even after a few years bringing this back up still makes me angry. I still feel bitter. But even so I cling to the idea of church and still attend church because I know what I’ve experienced isn’t the truth. That’s not who the church is supposed to be and I’ve experienced better, even though I’ve never experienced perfect. I don’t believe perfect exists, but I do believe in the existence of good churches.

So this is part one of at least one more part. This part could be called “The Hurting” the next part should be called, “Healing” and the final part, “Restoration”. Or at least something along those lines, I don’t know because I haven’t written them yet. And I completely reserve the right to revise and change the scope of my writing as I see fit.