I first received the infamous "TALK" when I was 7, nearly 8 years old. I remember sitting at the breakfast table at our old house in Minnesota with my sister Katy. Emily, the third girl in our clan, had just been born. I, in my normal blunt way, expressed that I never wanted to get married.
"Why?" my mom asked.
"Because when you get married, you have kids."
My mom laughed and said, well it doesn't work quite like that. It's not so automatic. You get married, and then you can choose to have kids.
I was confused.
"But you and dad got married...and then you had kids! Marriage= kids. And I don't want kids...so no marriage"
"No... you have kids after you are more physical with each other. Like hugging, but more."
"I'm going to have kids if I HUG someone?!?!?"
And, per my usual self, I wouldn't let it go. This ended with my mom taking me privately into my room with a book (probably "How to talk to your kids about the birds and the bees" but I'm not quite sure). There she proceeded to tell me how men and women make babies. I was disgusted.
"So this is how you and dad got me?"
"Yep."
"And Katy?"
"And Katy."
"And Emily?"
"Right."
"Can't you stop! I never want to have kids. And I DEFINITELY never want do THAT. SO GROSS!"
And that was that. Seven years later I was fifteen, and apparently not much had changed. My parents had a rule in our household: no dating until you are sixteen. I was due to be sixteen in nine months, which wasn't satisfying my current huge crush on Mr. First-Love.
He and I had escalated from talking occasionally at youth group, to talking quite frequently on AOL messenger (via dial-up, pre WIFI days!), and he had begun to call me at home. He had called me at home, like usual, and we discussed our day, had a few silly conversations, and he mentioned that he was attending a youth group event (not with our church) which was a sort of all-nighter. The group was meeting together for a hay-ride, spending time playing games together, and ending with the girls spending the night at a lady's house (from the group) while the guys would stay with a guy from the group. I pleaded with my mom to allow me to go, but she saw that it seemed to be an excuse to get around our "dating rule." She also mentioned that since she didn't know that group, it hardly seemed appropriate. I interpreted this to mean she didn't trust me. In a moment of rebellion and angst, I shouted at her "MOM I don't know if I EVER want to be intimate with a guy...I'm surely NOT going to start NOW!!" ...the idea of physical intimacy still kinda freaked me out...apparently not much had changed after all!
Needless to say, that did not change her mind. I can't remember the outcome, but I was probably grounded. Wouldn't surprise me. Not an uncommon consequence for me during my teenage years.
Mr. First-Love and I continued to talk quite frequently through the next few months. If I remember correctly, he may have had some other lady interests as well during that time, but we both mutually liked each other a lot. And the day that I would become "available" (i.e., allowed to date) was fast-approaching.
Come February, one month before I was to turn sixteen, my youth group and I attended a nation-wide event called "Acquire the Fire." You may have heard of it, I think they are still doing tours/events throughout the year. The event consisted of a few bible messages, dramas, videos, and worship time. One of the speakers was talking about putting God first above everything.
My teen years (in fact around this time) were the first time I REALLY began to drink in God's Word and desire to live for him, so this message gripped me quite well. The speaker was encouraging us all to read God's word, pray, and make sure we didn't let our other interests and desires distract us. One of the main distractions he was focusing on, was relationships. Not only could they be distracting in possibly leading to physical impurity, they also distracted us mentally, emotionally, and spiritually from focusing on God. He had us open our program books to a certificate with a challenge attached. He challenged everyone in the room, all of the thousands of teenagers, to consider "dating only God" for a year, and abstaining from any romantic relationships.
Side bar: Years after all of this took place, I began to wonder if such a challenge was really wise. On one hand, I can understand why this could be helpful- a sort of "fast" from dating, if you will. On the other side of things, it gives the general impression (at least it did to me) that there is something inherently "wrong" with relationships (dating , courting, whatever you'd like to call it). It also indicated that if you don't date, you will grow closer to God. I also struggled a lot during those years with thinking if anything distracted you from God, you needed to cut it out. However, if I really did that, I'd be likely living in a cave on my own with no food, friends, or possessions (well maybe an iphone...but probably not). I have come to believe that it's not a question of whether the "things themselves" are inherently bad, but instead a question of whether they are used to glorify God. Perhaps that's the message the speaker was trying to get at, what do you think- is this a good idea or bad?
Side bar over, back to the story.
So the speaker instructed us all to close our eyes and pray about it. And if we felt that God really wanted us to take this year off of dating, and spend it with him instead, we should quietly stand. 90% of the room stood, and we all opened our eyes. I was one of the people standing. I looked over and saw Mr. First-Love; he was standing too. Well, so much for that. One month before I turned sixteen...and now we have to wait another year?
But the story isn't finished yet. Ten more comments and I will continue!!!
Monday, December 24, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Remember when I asked you out? Sorry, I was kidding...
Fall 2002:
But first, a recap~
About to enter into my freshman year at high school, this was the third year of "new" experiences for me. In 2000 I moved from elementary (primary) school to middle school. I moved from attending classes all day with one teacher, to attending seven classes a day with various teachers all over a giant school building (mimicking a prison...I sure felt imprisoned everyday). Then my family and I moved from Roseville, MN to Anoka, MN in the summer of 2001, and I entered 8th grade as a newbie at another school (a little less prison-like). I quickly became friends with a girl I also attended church with, Carli. Her and I involved ourselves in lots of mischief, including passing notes during and in-between classes (oh, the pre-cell phone days). We were both interested in the same boy, the youth pastor's son. Our friendship nearly came to an end when he and I began dating.
And by dating, yes I do mean avoiding each other in public, exchanging gushy notes in private, and sending the occasional e-mail. Middle school was very romantic. My relationship with Mr. Youth Pastor Jr. abruptly came to an end when I received a note one day saying
"Remember when I asked you out? Sorry, I was kidding." complete with smiley face sticker in the corner and another note "Sorry about the sticker. Was already on the paper, couldn't get off."
Fast forward to 2002, and once again I was journeying into another "first" as I attended high school for the first time. This giant school, the third largest (if I remember correctly) in the state had over 3,000 students in attendance. This coronation into young adulthood also included a major change at my church~ I had moved from the smelly middle school youth group section, to the "cool" high school group, drama and all.
Unlike middle school, these people were border-line adults, most of them at least a year or two older than me and all of them far more mature. I have always looked considerably younger than I am... in fact, when I was 21 I did an internship at a youth center (with 12 and 13 year olds). One of the ladies who worked there didn't recognize me, and assumed I was a new kid. She ordered me to join the kids for lunch one day (and I almost obliged) until I realized that she thought I was a kid. I promptly told her I was not, much to both our embarassment. But I digress, what is true now was even more obvious when I was a freshman in high school. Not only was I the youngest in the group of 14-18 year olds, I also looked like I was 10-12.
During this time, something unexpected happened. One of the older boys in the group started giving me more attention, teasing me and behaving in a playful manner. It became clear that this boy had something of a crush on me, which was very confusing for me. In middle school, if a boy liked a girl he usually tried to annoy her. This boy, however, was being playful in a nicer way. I dared to realize it...he was flirting with me!!
This is where my "interpretive lens" biases me during the retelling of my story. Reflecting back, I can see how my social anxiety and occasional social obliviousness played into my experience. When this boy, Mr. First-Love, flirted with me it often confused me. I had never interacted with someone in a really flirty way before. Also, whenever I was approached in any sort of physical manner (even hugging) my instinct was to withdraw. I was told by my mother that I was the same way as a little kid (very resistant against hugging and cuddling). These sorts of interactions (both the physical intimacy and the flirting) were something I had to learn over time. As I learned, by observation, how people conducted themselves in these situations, I became more comfortable with implementing them.
Mr. F-L and I grew into a friendship and a semi-sort of relationship. He was probably the closest thing I had to a high school "sweet heart" and to this day we are still friends. The next portion of the story will cover that story in more detail...
Once I get a total of 10 comments on any of the preceeding 4 stories, I will write the next portion :)
But first, a recap~
About to enter into my freshman year at high school, this was the third year of "new" experiences for me. In 2000 I moved from elementary (primary) school to middle school. I moved from attending classes all day with one teacher, to attending seven classes a day with various teachers all over a giant school building (mimicking a prison...I sure felt imprisoned everyday). Then my family and I moved from Roseville, MN to Anoka, MN in the summer of 2001, and I entered 8th grade as a newbie at another school (a little less prison-like). I quickly became friends with a girl I also attended church with, Carli. Her and I involved ourselves in lots of mischief, including passing notes during and in-between classes (oh, the pre-cell phone days). We were both interested in the same boy, the youth pastor's son. Our friendship nearly came to an end when he and I began dating.
And by dating, yes I do mean avoiding each other in public, exchanging gushy notes in private, and sending the occasional e-mail. Middle school was very romantic. My relationship with Mr. Youth Pastor Jr. abruptly came to an end when I received a note one day saying
"Remember when I asked you out? Sorry, I was kidding." complete with smiley face sticker in the corner and another note "Sorry about the sticker. Was already on the paper, couldn't get off."
Fast forward to 2002, and once again I was journeying into another "first" as I attended high school for the first time. This giant school, the third largest (if I remember correctly) in the state had over 3,000 students in attendance. This coronation into young adulthood also included a major change at my church~ I had moved from the smelly middle school youth group section, to the "cool" high school group, drama and all.
Unlike middle school, these people were border-line adults, most of them at least a year or two older than me and all of them far more mature. I have always looked considerably younger than I am... in fact, when I was 21 I did an internship at a youth center (with 12 and 13 year olds). One of the ladies who worked there didn't recognize me, and assumed I was a new kid. She ordered me to join the kids for lunch one day (and I almost obliged) until I realized that she thought I was a kid. I promptly told her I was not, much to both our embarassment. But I digress, what is true now was even more obvious when I was a freshman in high school. Not only was I the youngest in the group of 14-18 year olds, I also looked like I was 10-12.
During this time, something unexpected happened. One of the older boys in the group started giving me more attention, teasing me and behaving in a playful manner. It became clear that this boy had something of a crush on me, which was very confusing for me. In middle school, if a boy liked a girl he usually tried to annoy her. This boy, however, was being playful in a nicer way. I dared to realize it...he was flirting with me!!
This is where my "interpretive lens" biases me during the retelling of my story. Reflecting back, I can see how my social anxiety and occasional social obliviousness played into my experience. When this boy, Mr. First-Love, flirted with me it often confused me. I had never interacted with someone in a really flirty way before. Also, whenever I was approached in any sort of physical manner (even hugging) my instinct was to withdraw. I was told by my mother that I was the same way as a little kid (very resistant against hugging and cuddling). These sorts of interactions (both the physical intimacy and the flirting) were something I had to learn over time. As I learned, by observation, how people conducted themselves in these situations, I became more comfortable with implementing them.
Mr. F-L and I grew into a friendship and a semi-sort of relationship. He was probably the closest thing I had to a high school "sweet heart" and to this day we are still friends. The next portion of the story will cover that story in more detail...
Once I get a total of 10 comments on any of the preceeding 4 stories, I will write the next portion :)
Sorry New York, it's not you- it's me...
As I said, things were going well, I was (so I thought) walking close with God, making friends, and trying to grow in ministry.
The week for youth camp was approaching, but I was unable to get it off from my part-time job. Since I was planning to stay beyond the summer, I didn't want to cause a ruckus at my job, and the pastor had previously informed me that the youth camp was optional so I declined to attend.
The second week of August, I had to move out of the house I had been living in, since they were expecting family guests to arrive. I couldn't move in with the Nelsons for another week, so I was asked to live with another lady named Cherice, for the interim week. Cherice lived alone in an apartment not far from where I had been staying. She was a nice enough person, but I got the impression she didn't like me. I didn't attend the Eastwater campus with her, so I didn't know her very well. I tried to get to know her a bit, but she was usually quite short with me in conversations, so I gave up.
Five days went by, and I came home from work one afternoon (after having virtually no sleep the night before). Cherice told me the pastor had called for me, and handed me her landline phone. Although exhausted, I called the pastor who promptly told me that a secret elder's meeting had just taken place. Cherice had called the pastor and expressed that she felt I was a terrible room mate and shouldn't be allowed to live with the Nelsons. In response, the pastor and the elders had a meeting and decided that they agreed. He told me that I was not allowed to live with them and I should make other plans. It was pretty clear that they were hoping I would leave New York. I hung up the phone in absolute shock. I didn't know how to feel... I just felt as though I was falling. I was confused, perplexed, mystified, hurt, sad, and a whole plethora of emotions. I left the room in tears and asked Cherice to talk to me. I could barely get her to talk to me, but she essentially surmised that I was not the kind of person they wanted to do ministry at their church.
To her credit, she tried to help me apply to a christian university in New York, so I could continue my counseling degree plan in NY. But when I thought about it, I realized that I still had acceptance at the university from my my previous university's counseling program. I figured it was logical to just leave, especially since it was clear people wanted me to do so. I figured I could transfer with my job, and leave as soon as possible. Some friends from the university offered to let me stay with them until I found a place to live, but the offer wasn't available for two more weeks. I told Cherice that I was going to put in for transfer at my job and move back to Michigan. I told her I had a place to stay in two weeks, and she concurred that it was the best course of action for me.
That evening I met up with the friends I had made at the beginning of the summer (from the church). They expressed disapproval over the church's actions, and also advised me on how I might have better handled the situation. They were very encouraging and helpful, comforting me. When I got back to Cherice's that night, I found a note waiting for me. Unsurprised, I read the note which stated she had called the pastor and they had mutually agreed that I was no longer welcome to live with her. I was expected to vacate by the next day. So there I was, abandoned by the church because I was not "suitable"- didn't have the right personality, wasn't family-oriented enough, and the very church who accused me of these things was throwing me out on the street for two weeks.
I had made a few friends at Barnes and Noble in Manhattan, so I contacted a few of them. My friend (nonchristian friend) Betty offered to let me stay with her in Manhattan for the two weeks. She already had another mutual friend of ours, Jared, sleeping on her couch. She told me that she also had a cot if I didn't mind. I gladly accepted the offer, and moved to Manhattan the next day.
These were the most confusing and depressing days of my life. I had grown up wanting to do ministry. Before I arrived in New York I had grown a lot socially and spiritually. I had never felt closer to God before. And there I was, wanting to be accepted by a church who was very "family oriented" who had, for all intent & purposes, thrown me out. And there I was, living by the hospitality of an atheist and an agnostic.
These events caused my life to take a drastic turn. I moved back to Michigan, fell into a whirlwind of depression, changed my career-course, and finally left the country. But before I go into that, the New York experience gave me a better understanding of myself, and helped understand myself and understand how God had made me. For that, I go back to the beginning- 2002, age 15.
.
The week for youth camp was approaching, but I was unable to get it off from my part-time job. Since I was planning to stay beyond the summer, I didn't want to cause a ruckus at my job, and the pastor had previously informed me that the youth camp was optional so I declined to attend.
The second week of August, I had to move out of the house I had been living in, since they were expecting family guests to arrive. I couldn't move in with the Nelsons for another week, so I was asked to live with another lady named Cherice, for the interim week. Cherice lived alone in an apartment not far from where I had been staying. She was a nice enough person, but I got the impression she didn't like me. I didn't attend the Eastwater campus with her, so I didn't know her very well. I tried to get to know her a bit, but she was usually quite short with me in conversations, so I gave up.
Five days went by, and I came home from work one afternoon (after having virtually no sleep the night before). Cherice told me the pastor had called for me, and handed me her landline phone. Although exhausted, I called the pastor who promptly told me that a secret elder's meeting had just taken place. Cherice had called the pastor and expressed that she felt I was a terrible room mate and shouldn't be allowed to live with the Nelsons. In response, the pastor and the elders had a meeting and decided that they agreed. He told me that I was not allowed to live with them and I should make other plans. It was pretty clear that they were hoping I would leave New York. I hung up the phone in absolute shock. I didn't know how to feel... I just felt as though I was falling. I was confused, perplexed, mystified, hurt, sad, and a whole plethora of emotions. I left the room in tears and asked Cherice to talk to me. I could barely get her to talk to me, but she essentially surmised that I was not the kind of person they wanted to do ministry at their church.
To her credit, she tried to help me apply to a christian university in New York, so I could continue my counseling degree plan in NY. But when I thought about it, I realized that I still had acceptance at the university from my my previous university's counseling program. I figured it was logical to just leave, especially since it was clear people wanted me to do so. I figured I could transfer with my job, and leave as soon as possible. Some friends from the university offered to let me stay with them until I found a place to live, but the offer wasn't available for two more weeks. I told Cherice that I was going to put in for transfer at my job and move back to Michigan. I told her I had a place to stay in two weeks, and she concurred that it was the best course of action for me.
That evening I met up with the friends I had made at the beginning of the summer (from the church). They expressed disapproval over the church's actions, and also advised me on how I might have better handled the situation. They were very encouraging and helpful, comforting me. When I got back to Cherice's that night, I found a note waiting for me. Unsurprised, I read the note which stated she had called the pastor and they had mutually agreed that I was no longer welcome to live with her. I was expected to vacate by the next day. So there I was, abandoned by the church because I was not "suitable"- didn't have the right personality, wasn't family-oriented enough, and the very church who accused me of these things was throwing me out on the street for two weeks.
I had made a few friends at Barnes and Noble in Manhattan, so I contacted a few of them. My friend (nonchristian friend) Betty offered to let me stay with her in Manhattan for the two weeks. She already had another mutual friend of ours, Jared, sleeping on her couch. She told me that she also had a cot if I didn't mind. I gladly accepted the offer, and moved to Manhattan the next day.
These were the most confusing and depressing days of my life. I had grown up wanting to do ministry. Before I arrived in New York I had grown a lot socially and spiritually. I had never felt closer to God before. And there I was, wanting to be accepted by a church who was very "family oriented" who had, for all intent & purposes, thrown me out. And there I was, living by the hospitality of an atheist and an agnostic.
These events caused my life to take a drastic turn. I moved back to Michigan, fell into a whirlwind of depression, changed my career-course, and finally left the country. But before I go into that, the New York experience gave me a better understanding of myself, and helped understand myself and understand how God had made me. For that, I go back to the beginning- 2002, age 15.
.
New York, land of opportunity...
It was late 2008, senior year at university. I was graduating in less than 6 months, and was beginning to feel the whirlwind of pressure surround me. I had my plans in place for the following year, hard not to since they were my plans since 17. I was enrolled in graduate school, to further my education with a Master's in Counseling. My dream was to assist families and relationships to grow closer to Christ, and then to one another. My "secret" dream was to do some work in ministry, specifically with missionaries.
All of this was to commence in September 2009, after I graduated in May 2009. I didn't have any plans for the summer in between, so I searched for various options: internships, jobs, summer school. On my university job board, I came upon an internship opportunity in New York City. This very unique opportunity involved a group of interns being chosen to come to this small baptist church in Queens, to do summer ministry. Interns would find a part-time job, live with a family from the church, and spend free-time doing ministry at/with the church. I looked up more information on the church and was pleasantly surprised to find that their teaching and beliefs was very congruent with mine. I downloaded the five page application, filled with doctrinal, personal, and silly questions- and submitted it.
One week later, I received a call from the senior pastor. He began the conversation by telling me over the past five years of their internship program, mine was the most solid application they had ever received. I kindly thanked him, and answered a few clarification questions. He then told me a few details about the internship program: they have a youth camp for a week in August which interns may choose to participate in, they have VBS programs, worship on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. At the end of our conversation, he offered me the internship. I told him I needed a week to think and pray about it.
I was excited about the opportunity, but had to consider the implications of such a ministry commitment. Since I was a little kid, I had always (to some degree) struggled with making friends and having long social interactions. I always found it very easy to have intellectual or intentional/structured conversation, but if I was stuck in a crowd of people just "mingling" I was prone to anxiety. I knew this might make it a bit difficult for me, but I had grown a lot in the past four years at university. By God's grace, I had a solid group of friends that I met with, to have intellectual conversations and just mingle. I was managing any anxiety I had pretty well, which in general was quite minimal. The key to it, I believed, was devotion to prayer and bible study, a steady group of friends to discuss and mutually encourage, and a mentor to advise me. I believed these things were all good and helpful, and that if I accepted the internship opportunity I should seek them in New York.
A week later, I called and accepted the internship. Six months passed and my family drove to Michigan to attend my graduation ceremony. Three days later I was heading to New York.
I arrived in New York on a Saturday night, got a bit of sleep, and the next morning was off to meet the church I was to attend. Unlike the rest of the interns, I was assigned to do ministry with a church plant of the main church. I was living with the pastor and his wife who were in charge of that church plant. Sunday morning we arrived at a small Korean church, with the basement rented out to the church plant I was attending, Hope Community. Hope was a small congregation of about 30 people who came from all different walks of life. It was a charming group, and I fell in love with them all quite swiftly. They were quirky, interesting, and many enjoyed having deep discussions.
Hope Church met on Sunday mornings, Saturday mornings for evangelism, and Tuesday nights for bible study. The rest of the week I joined the other interns at the main church, Eastwater Baptist. This included Wednesday night worship where I taught a class of 2nd graders for an hour, and Friday night youth group where all of the interns assisted. I came to realize that my strongest skill and joy came from the Wednesday nights, where I taught the 2nd graders. I would pick a different bible study every week and draw a picture on the whiteboard to illustrate. Every week I drew a large circle and divided it into four parts. As I told the story, I drew a picture in each part to represent what was happening. During the story-telling, the children were given paper to copy down my picture themselves. The following Wednesday I gave them each a blank piece of paper and asked them to redraw the story picture from memory. If they did so to my satisfaction, they received a treat. We would review the previous weeks' story before discussing the new one. I found that I quite enjoyed teaching, and spent a lot of time preparing the lessons. Before I left New York, one of the boys in my classroom (Henry) told me that he still remembered (and could draw) every single picture from the whole summer. It was, simultaneously sadly and happily, the most encouraging thing said to me all summer.
As the summer wore on, I began to feel quite discouraged. The very first week we were there, a bridal shower event happened at Eastshore and all the women interns attended. This was the first time most of us had met one another, so we naturally spent a lot of the time interacting with one another in the event. We were later brought aside and scolded by women in the church, told that our job was to serve and interact with the other ladies in the church, not befriend one another. That was just the first in many steps downhill for me.
I had shared with the pastor's wife whom I lived with that I really believed I needed to find a woman from one of the church campuses to "mentor" me during the summer, just so I could be held accountable and share prayer requests. She immediately offered to be my mentor, and I didn't know what to say in response. She was a very sweet and kind lady, but in personality we were stark opposites. She was practically domestic and socially outgoing, I was anything but domestic, with far more interest in studying and socially introverted. I had difficulty talking with her sometimes, since she was so naturally social- she found it very difficult to understand why I wasn't comfortable being social all of the time. If I spent anytime on my own to recooperate (except for devotions), she found that confusing and strange. I wasn't convinced that she and I would be congruent as a mentor/mentee relationship, but didn't know how to say that. Not wanting to offend her, I just dropped the subject and didn't seek to find anyone else.
I was encouraged to attend an event with some university students from the church, and quickly became close friends with them. We spent the evenings having discussions and singing worship music. Throughout the summer, I took many opportunities to hang out with them in coffee shops, movies, etc. Due to my church commitments, I wasn't able to hang out with them as much as I would have liked, although I was very blessed by the time I did spend with them.
When the remainder of the interns arrived (10-11 of us in all), we had a meeting at Eastwater Baptist. The pastor told us all of our responsibilities, and ended by concluding that we would all fall in one of two categories- the interns who were loved and cherished, and those who were sub-par. He gave a couple of examples concerning each category of interns-past. There on out, there was constant discussion about what "intern" was the best, as though it was a sort of competition.
There was a lot of pressure on the interns from every direction, and we were sometimes being told conflicting things. I was told that ministry at Hope was my priority by one person and then told that ministry with the youth group at Eastwater was my top priority. There were a couple of girls that I was supposed to be meeting with consistently from the youth group. I finally managed to schedule a meeting with them, but it occurred on a Saturday morning during evangelism. I was scolded pretty harshly for choosing the youth over the evangelism. Feelings of discouragement and anxiety began to overwhelm me. Since I was instructed not to spend too much time with peers, and was unable to spend much time alone I began to feel quite anxious. But I really enjoyed the congregation at Hope, loved the group of friends I had made, and thoroughly enjoyed teaching on Wednesday nights. I believed that, with time, I would grow and become a better "ministry-minded" person that the church desired. My desire to go into ministry and be helpful trumped my feelings.
I tried to find ways to involve myself- I would go into the church during the week and assist the secretary with various things. I tried to meet up with one of the ladies at Hope, but she seemed too busy. I helped a couple of the ladies at the pregnancy resource center. But as much as I did, I got the distinct impression that unless I was interacting with specific people or doing specific things (that I wasn't told to do, just expected to figure out), it wasn't enough. The whole summer I battled feeling that I wasn't doing enough or that there was something wrong with me. Although I tried to avoid it, this led to me feeling a bit withdrawn at times.
Despite feeling withdrawn, I really believed the church could help me grow in ministry, so as the summer neared an end I asked whether I could continue to stay with someone from the church past the summer's end. I was told that would be no problem, as long as I found a couple to host me. After asking around a bit, I found one fantastic couple (the Nelsons) who was very eager to host me. We met together for a couple of meals and I got on with them very well. I had a part-time job at Barnes and Noble, in Upper East Side Manhattan, so I could offer some money for my "rent."
Things were going very well, and I was excited about what God was doing in my life. I had never felt closer to the Lord my entire life; as challenging as the summer was, it constantly pushed me to seek Him so that I might grow in love and ministry.
All of this was to commence in September 2009, after I graduated in May 2009. I didn't have any plans for the summer in between, so I searched for various options: internships, jobs, summer school. On my university job board, I came upon an internship opportunity in New York City. This very unique opportunity involved a group of interns being chosen to come to this small baptist church in Queens, to do summer ministry. Interns would find a part-time job, live with a family from the church, and spend free-time doing ministry at/with the church. I looked up more information on the church and was pleasantly surprised to find that their teaching and beliefs was very congruent with mine. I downloaded the five page application, filled with doctrinal, personal, and silly questions- and submitted it.
One week later, I received a call from the senior pastor. He began the conversation by telling me over the past five years of their internship program, mine was the most solid application they had ever received. I kindly thanked him, and answered a few clarification questions. He then told me a few details about the internship program: they have a youth camp for a week in August which interns may choose to participate in, they have VBS programs, worship on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. At the end of our conversation, he offered me the internship. I told him I needed a week to think and pray about it.
I was excited about the opportunity, but had to consider the implications of such a ministry commitment. Since I was a little kid, I had always (to some degree) struggled with making friends and having long social interactions. I always found it very easy to have intellectual or intentional/structured conversation, but if I was stuck in a crowd of people just "mingling" I was prone to anxiety. I knew this might make it a bit difficult for me, but I had grown a lot in the past four years at university. By God's grace, I had a solid group of friends that I met with, to have intellectual conversations and just mingle. I was managing any anxiety I had pretty well, which in general was quite minimal. The key to it, I believed, was devotion to prayer and bible study, a steady group of friends to discuss and mutually encourage, and a mentor to advise me. I believed these things were all good and helpful, and that if I accepted the internship opportunity I should seek them in New York.
A week later, I called and accepted the internship. Six months passed and my family drove to Michigan to attend my graduation ceremony. Three days later I was heading to New York.
I arrived in New York on a Saturday night, got a bit of sleep, and the next morning was off to meet the church I was to attend. Unlike the rest of the interns, I was assigned to do ministry with a church plant of the main church. I was living with the pastor and his wife who were in charge of that church plant. Sunday morning we arrived at a small Korean church, with the basement rented out to the church plant I was attending, Hope Community. Hope was a small congregation of about 30 people who came from all different walks of life. It was a charming group, and I fell in love with them all quite swiftly. They were quirky, interesting, and many enjoyed having deep discussions.
Hope Church met on Sunday mornings, Saturday mornings for evangelism, and Tuesday nights for bible study. The rest of the week I joined the other interns at the main church, Eastwater Baptist. This included Wednesday night worship where I taught a class of 2nd graders for an hour, and Friday night youth group where all of the interns assisted. I came to realize that my strongest skill and joy came from the Wednesday nights, where I taught the 2nd graders. I would pick a different bible study every week and draw a picture on the whiteboard to illustrate. Every week I drew a large circle and divided it into four parts. As I told the story, I drew a picture in each part to represent what was happening. During the story-telling, the children were given paper to copy down my picture themselves. The following Wednesday I gave them each a blank piece of paper and asked them to redraw the story picture from memory. If they did so to my satisfaction, they received a treat. We would review the previous weeks' story before discussing the new one. I found that I quite enjoyed teaching, and spent a lot of time preparing the lessons. Before I left New York, one of the boys in my classroom (Henry) told me that he still remembered (and could draw) every single picture from the whole summer. It was, simultaneously sadly and happily, the most encouraging thing said to me all summer.
As the summer wore on, I began to feel quite discouraged. The very first week we were there, a bridal shower event happened at Eastshore and all the women interns attended. This was the first time most of us had met one another, so we naturally spent a lot of the time interacting with one another in the event. We were later brought aside and scolded by women in the church, told that our job was to serve and interact with the other ladies in the church, not befriend one another. That was just the first in many steps downhill for me.
I had shared with the pastor's wife whom I lived with that I really believed I needed to find a woman from one of the church campuses to "mentor" me during the summer, just so I could be held accountable and share prayer requests. She immediately offered to be my mentor, and I didn't know what to say in response. She was a very sweet and kind lady, but in personality we were stark opposites. She was practically domestic and socially outgoing, I was anything but domestic, with far more interest in studying and socially introverted. I had difficulty talking with her sometimes, since she was so naturally social- she found it very difficult to understand why I wasn't comfortable being social all of the time. If I spent anytime on my own to recooperate (except for devotions), she found that confusing and strange. I wasn't convinced that she and I would be congruent as a mentor/mentee relationship, but didn't know how to say that. Not wanting to offend her, I just dropped the subject and didn't seek to find anyone else.
I was encouraged to attend an event with some university students from the church, and quickly became close friends with them. We spent the evenings having discussions and singing worship music. Throughout the summer, I took many opportunities to hang out with them in coffee shops, movies, etc. Due to my church commitments, I wasn't able to hang out with them as much as I would have liked, although I was very blessed by the time I did spend with them.
When the remainder of the interns arrived (10-11 of us in all), we had a meeting at Eastwater Baptist. The pastor told us all of our responsibilities, and ended by concluding that we would all fall in one of two categories- the interns who were loved and cherished, and those who were sub-par. He gave a couple of examples concerning each category of interns-past. There on out, there was constant discussion about what "intern" was the best, as though it was a sort of competition.
There was a lot of pressure on the interns from every direction, and we were sometimes being told conflicting things. I was told that ministry at Hope was my priority by one person and then told that ministry with the youth group at Eastwater was my top priority. There were a couple of girls that I was supposed to be meeting with consistently from the youth group. I finally managed to schedule a meeting with them, but it occurred on a Saturday morning during evangelism. I was scolded pretty harshly for choosing the youth over the evangelism. Feelings of discouragement and anxiety began to overwhelm me. Since I was instructed not to spend too much time with peers, and was unable to spend much time alone I began to feel quite anxious. But I really enjoyed the congregation at Hope, loved the group of friends I had made, and thoroughly enjoyed teaching on Wednesday nights. I believed that, with time, I would grow and become a better "ministry-minded" person that the church desired. My desire to go into ministry and be helpful trumped my feelings.
I tried to find ways to involve myself- I would go into the church during the week and assist the secretary with various things. I tried to meet up with one of the ladies at Hope, but she seemed too busy. I helped a couple of the ladies at the pregnancy resource center. But as much as I did, I got the distinct impression that unless I was interacting with specific people or doing specific things (that I wasn't told to do, just expected to figure out), it wasn't enough. The whole summer I battled feeling that I wasn't doing enough or that there was something wrong with me. Although I tried to avoid it, this led to me feeling a bit withdrawn at times.
Despite feeling withdrawn, I really believed the church could help me grow in ministry, so as the summer neared an end I asked whether I could continue to stay with someone from the church past the summer's end. I was told that would be no problem, as long as I found a couple to host me. After asking around a bit, I found one fantastic couple (the Nelsons) who was very eager to host me. We met together for a couple of meals and I got on with them very well. I had a part-time job at Barnes and Noble, in Upper East Side Manhattan, so I could offer some money for my "rent."
Things were going very well, and I was excited about what God was doing in my life. I had never felt closer to the Lord my entire life; as challenging as the summer was, it constantly pushed me to seek Him so that I might grow in love and ministry.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
First comes love, then comes disparage...
February 2010:
I hung up the phone and sat in the dark. He had confirmed what I presumed might happen…we had broken up. After about five minutes of silence I moved from the bed and stood up against the wall and began to sob. I lived in a four bedroom apartment with three room mates. My room was on the opposite end from theirs, but I still didn’t want them to hear me, so I covered my mouth. I mustered out tears for one minute, and then stopped. Not because I felt better; I just couldn’t cry anymore. This was guy number twelve, the twelfth time I had really liked a guy, the twelfth time I had gone on dates, grown close, and really connected. We talked every night for five to six hours on skype or via the phone. We spoke of marriage and the rest of our lives together. And just like all the others, it was over as quickly as it began. Mr. Military and I were over.
And the hardest part wasn’t losing Mr. Military…it was another failed relationship. Another attempt to step into the waters of lifelong relationship, only to drown. I could only muster out a minute of tears this time, but often I could hardly cry at all. I was becoming numb to it all- the dating world. All of the ambiguity, the hurt, the emotional entanglements, the miscommunications, and finally- the failed attempts. I cried out to God… “How many more times?”… I didn’t think I could do it again.
They say that every person you date takes a part of you with them, when you break up. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, I had already lost twelve parts of myself. I certainly felt a loss… worn out, despondent, and discouraged.
We know the ending of this story, but to get there I must go back to the beginning. And all stories are told and read through certain interpretive “lenses.” These can be framed by our experiences, beliefs, personality, etc. For me, the lens through which I have seen my life was detrimentally influenced by one small blip of an event three years ago. Before I can begin the story back to 2002, I must first tell the story of New York in 2009.
I hung up the phone and sat in the dark. He had confirmed what I presumed might happen…we had broken up. After about five minutes of silence I moved from the bed and stood up against the wall and began to sob. I lived in a four bedroom apartment with three room mates. My room was on the opposite end from theirs, but I still didn’t want them to hear me, so I covered my mouth. I mustered out tears for one minute, and then stopped. Not because I felt better; I just couldn’t cry anymore. This was guy number twelve, the twelfth time I had really liked a guy, the twelfth time I had gone on dates, grown close, and really connected. We talked every night for five to six hours on skype or via the phone. We spoke of marriage and the rest of our lives together. And just like all the others, it was over as quickly as it began. Mr. Military and I were over.
And the hardest part wasn’t losing Mr. Military…it was another failed relationship. Another attempt to step into the waters of lifelong relationship, only to drown. I could only muster out a minute of tears this time, but often I could hardly cry at all. I was becoming numb to it all- the dating world. All of the ambiguity, the hurt, the emotional entanglements, the miscommunications, and finally- the failed attempts. I cried out to God… “How many more times?”… I didn’t think I could do it again.
They say that every person you date takes a part of you with them, when you break up. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, I had already lost twelve parts of myself. I certainly felt a loss… worn out, despondent, and discouraged.
We know the ending of this story, but to get there I must go back to the beginning. And all stories are told and read through certain interpretive “lenses.” These can be framed by our experiences, beliefs, personality, etc. For me, the lens through which I have seen my life was detrimentally influenced by one small blip of an event three years ago. Before I can begin the story back to 2002, I must first tell the story of New York in 2009.
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