The Unreligious Preacher's Kid

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." -Ghandi

Yes, I am a Christian.

Yes, I just opened my blog post with a quote from Ghandi. 

Thoughts?

If you won't be able to read the rest of this post because I've quoted a Buddhist, here, let me relieve you of your pain. A quote with the same point from the awesome Christian author Frances Chan:

“Lukewarm living and claiming Christ's name simultaneously is utterly disgusting to God.” 

Halle- to the freaking- lujah.

These quotes put in a nutshell why I've started to dread going to church. The first few weeks it was okay, I even went to youth group a few times. At first I thought maybe I would even make myself a regular member. But the more I went, it just made the instinct to get out and run even stronger. Every time I darken the door it's like pouring salt into an open wound. It hurts. It hurts me to see people under the guidance of pastoral leaders who, apparently, don't get the point of God's love themselves. And it hurts to be sitting next to my dad (who in my opinion is the best preacher man around) watching him sit through a sermon where everything he believes in, everything he lives for, is being trampled on. I could elaborate MUCH further, but my beef with "Mega-Church" pastors is not really the main focus of this post. If you are curious though, you can read more about that here on a post from my wonderful mom, who, like me, was not impressed at all and just had to blog about it. :) 

To see with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears for the first time in my life, the message my family has bent over backwards to deliver being shot down at the pulpits of other pastors... to say the least, has really made me think.

Is there a reason behind all this pain?

What in the WORLD is keeping these pastors from telling their congregation how much God loves them?

Why has God had me walk through so much before I even get out of high school?

Why does everything always have to be so hard?

What is He preparing me for?

And greatest of all these questions....

 WHY AM I HERE? 

Well let me just tell you...

I know now what the purpose of my life is. I know what I'm supposed to do. And if it took God dragging me, kicking and screaming, 20 hours away from the place and people I love so much to find myself, then so be it. The only thing being away from ministry has done for me is make me realize how much I need it in my life. And only in the past few days have I come to address this. I used to do community theater, so I'm good at making people think things are okay when they really aren't. Ever since I got here I've felt so lost, like I've been rid of my purpose in life. Constantly being on the verge of tears eventually drove me crazy, so I decided that I've had enough and I should talk to my parents. Here's part of our conversation...

Me: "I'm miserable. I don't feel like I'm the kind of person who has been put on this earth to walk into a church, sit through a sermon, and walk out. Church should be so much more than that."

Dad: "That's a calling. And I would know, because I have one too."

Me: "I guess some people are placed here to play out a certain purpose..."

Dad: "That's right. So why don't you go out there and do something about it? You know I'd be the LAST person to prevent you from doing something crazy."

Me: "I may do just that."

Before we moved here I thought I had my life all figured out. I was going to graduate high school, go to college, find a guy crazy enough to get involved with me, then marry him. But now I couldn't be anything further from that. Non-existent Prince Charming is no longer on my radar, and yeah, I'm still in high school- but not for long. I've always been different from kids my age. I'm so beyond worrying about what I'm going to wear to prom, or which boy is the cutest, and how I'm going to get him to like me. I don't mind missing out on casual dating relationships, or blowing a bunch of money on a sweet 16 party, because I know I'm meant to serve a greater purpose. Thanks to you dad, I have a crook in my nose, a brain full of sarcasm, a head full of curly hair that is often mistaken for a bush... and now your ambition to turn the world upside down.

I'm not running from anything, or anyone, anymore. I know who I am. And I will not be silenced.

Less Is More

Greetings, cyber world! It’s been a long time since I’ve had time to sit down and work on another blog post. I apologize, I really should keep up on these kinds of things- but better late than never.

The last time I posted on this blog, I was still living in Michigan. Now, that looks like a simple sentence, doesn’t it?  Well, it wasn’t as simple as “living in Michigan” to me when I was there. Allow me to elaborate…

Our church was small. And in today’s society small is not usually considered ideal, especially when on the subject of church. Say you’re in your car, and you drive past a church that is so big and beautiful, you get distracted and make a wrong turn- then end up in the middle of nowhere. And as you try to make your way back to town you happen to pass a small, brick building with a hand-made church sign hanging out front that reads: ”Sunday school- 9:30 a.m. Morning worship- 10:30 a.m.” Would you rather attend the other church? Or does that sound exciting to you? Yeah, we didn’t think so either. Yet we carried on…

Before our family moved to Michigan, the little country church my dad turned upside down was known as a “Preacher Eater.” (I’m not sure if that was the exact term, but we’ll go with it, it has the same effect.) My parents were thoroughly cautioned, but didn’t believe the warnings they had been given when they met with a few families that then attended the church. To this day my mom still raves about how nice they were….for the first 2 weeks. The church desperately needed renovations, and my dad was the guy in charge. There were a lot of families in the church who quickly learned to love us, my dad’s way of teaching, and were excited to see the positive changes to come. But, (there is always a but. *sigh*) there was an equal amount of those who didn’t. One person said these very words to my dad: “I don’t know how anyone can call themselves a servant of God and not have those candelabras displayed on the platform!” Not joking. Every bitter word spoken about my dad and his plan to help the church made just about as much sense as what that person said about the candelabras. (Which, for the record, were black, and looked like something that belonged in the Munster household.) Long story short, there was a church split right off the bat. The people who didn’t like it left, and those who did stayed with a small selection of those who still weren’t quite sure (of course.) The entire 10 years our family served the church it was a constant mixture of changes, praises, complaints, people coming and going, lives being changed; and yes, there was usually something/someone stupid that needed taken care of. Growing up I was almost always aware when something was “going on” in the church, it’s not really something that could be avoided. We walked the journey together; as a family.

Looking back I realize that I probably went through a lot of things that almost no one my age can understand or relate to, but I never thought anything of it until I was "older." (I put "older" in quotes because I'm only 15, and don't like to consider myself old just yet.) I guess even as a little girl I believed that God would always take care of us. Everything we went through was more than enough to make your head spin, but He most certainly did take care of us. God used our family how He saw fit, and despite the challenges, I really believe it was for the better. Lots of amazing things happened -lives were changed -while we were there: things that truly make it all worth it. I am very grateful for the time God allowed us to stay there. It made me who I am, and don’t take my words lightly when I say I love and miss my Michigan church family more than you all will ever know.

I hope you now see why I never thought of it as simply “living in Michigan.” Almost every minute our family spent there was dedicated to the church and it’s people, and it’s definitely not something to regret. God has plans for us here, though. We get to be in Colorado- a beautiful state full of wonderful opportunities. God brought us here for a reason, and I can’t wait to see how His plan unfolds.

All my growing up, I watched in amazement as my dad poured his life into the people of our beloved Michigan church. Even though I was small, I still possessed the ability to see how hard it was on him to always have to be living for others -hardly a spare moment for himself. However, I could also see that he did it willingly. That’s why I respect him so much. I was constantly tagging along with him when he went to visit people, or if he had to give someone a ride somewhere.  Whenever he would let me, I was there. I watched my dad make a difference in people’s lives. A small act of kindness can truly have the biggest impact on someone’s life. And yes, I did say “small.”

“The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40

An old fashioned adventure

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12 ESV

This verse rings true for me. Have you ever heard God speak? Yeah, well, he’s been talking my ear off for the past month. God revealed his chatty side to me about 4-5 weeks ago.

I went in the kitchen to get myself some chow, and my mom was sitting at the table eating hers. I slopped a random assortment of lunchmeat, cheese, sauce, and pickles onto a corn tortilla and sat down next to my mama. After telling me with a furrowed brow that I had selected a rather odd breakfast menu, she explained to me that she and dad had been talking about moving to Colorado to live with my Grandparents, but a decision like that could not be made without God’s clear guidance on whether to stay or go. So she asked me to start praying about it. This came as a shock to me, and I was pretty upset. My dad has been ministering to the same church for over a decade. We moved here the summer I turned 5, so this has been the only “home” I have ever known- even though we live in the church parsonage and the house is not ours or never will be…but hey, minor details.  My initial reaction was “I’m not going.” Ha, little did I know. I finished my weird food and went downstairs to shower and think out the situation I had just been presented with.

I have a personal rule: if I’m going to cry, I’m going to do it in the shower so nobody will be able to tell, then ask me “awww, have you been crying, Sweetheart? What’s the matter?” It's not that I don’t appreciate the concern, but one of two things always happens in situations like that.

1.     I lose all self control and lash out all my problems to that poor person. Or…

2.      I come up with a lame excuse for the running makeup and bloodshot eyes, and then things with that person become eternally awkward.

“No, I wasn’t dumped. A bee stung me in the eye.”

“But Hon, it’s the middle of February…” Get my point?

Anyway. I kept that rule in mind as I envisioned saying goodbye to all the people here who I love so dearly. Maybe it was the sound of the running water and the energy I was putting into trying to keep the tears from spilling, or maybe I was just having a bad day. Whatever the answer, it didn’t stop me from bawling my eyes out. (Okay, my eyes didn’t come out, but you know what I mean) I turned on my Pandora (internet powered radio station, for those of you who may not have heard of it) playlist, and got dressed. A few songs played that I liked, then I came across a really stupid one. I think it was James Blunt or something so I bit the bullet and wasted one of my hourly skips on it. So sorry, Mr. Blunt.

Living in the middle of nowhere, we don’t have very good cell service at our house, especially in the basement. So when I skipped that song, it confused my phone and the music stopped entirely for about 15 minutes. I just stood there, indulging myself in the mixed emotions I was dealing with. “What happens if we leave? How will people react? What will happen to the church? Could it survive? For ten years dad has done the best he knows how to keep this place alive. Maybe it is time for us to go. Ugh, I wish I was a beetle. Then I could just go live under a rug and no one would find me until spring cleaning time. God, help me…” then the music came back on.

“You can go. You can start all over again. You can try to find a way to make another day go by. You can hide- hold all your feelings inside. You could try to carry on, when all you want to do is cry.” Wow. That didn’t apply to the current status of my life at all. Then it stopped. For about 5 minutes, and then the rest of the song played.

“’Cause sometimes we don’t really notice just how good it can get, so maybe we should start all over, start all over again.” Yeah, well, my story isn’t finished yet. I wasn’t even a fan of Rob Thomas, but I suppose I have to be now, huh? The next song that came on was “Meant to Live” by Switchfoot.

“Fumbling his confidence and wondering why the world has passed him by. Hoping that he’s meant for more than arguments and failed attempts to fly, we were meant to live for so much more…have we lost ourselves?”

 Well that just put me over the edge, so I dried my hair (yes, hair first. I’m a teenager. Give me a break) went upstairs, printed off the lyrics, and gave them to my mom. She read them to my dad and we all agreed that we would continue praying about it.

Having the previous events of the day fresh in my mind yet, I put my boots on and went out with the family to watch our town’s fireworks. I had a good time, but the fun was partly clouded for me because I was hanging out with all the people that I would possibly have to say goodbye to, and I didn’t want to do that. At all. But God had other ideas. On the way home I was listening to the same Pandora playlist again, and another Switchfoot song came on called “Dare You To Move.” Personally, the title was enough for me. But I looked up the lyrics anyway. Don’t know why though, it was already pretty clear what we were supposed to do. I just didn’t WANT God to keep constantly confirming it. I wanted to be stuck in Michigan for eternity. But He wasn’t finished with me…  

“Tension is here between who you are and who you could be, between how it is and how it should be. Maybe redemption has stories to tell, maybe forgiveness is right where you fell. Where can you run to escape from yourself? Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go? Salvation is here. I dare you to move. I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor, I dare you to move.” Wow, was all I had to say, and it’s still all I have to say. Ever since then God has been going crazy with giving us signs- all of us. I can’t even begin to explain how clear He has made it that He wants us to move.

The album that both of those Switchfoot songs are on is called “The Beautiful Letdown,” and I found that quite ironic. I want this 1,000 mile move to be a beautiful letdown for me. I suppose we’ll see…the U-Haul is backin’ out of this place August 28^th no later than 3pm.