“Is that an Aggie ring?”
A lot of great conversations start that way. I was doing some work in a coffee house and was clearly the oldest person in the room.
I said yes, I was Class of 1982. She was class of 2018. We just missed each other. She’d majored in biomedical science and was now a medical student. I told her I had an engineering degree, but now I was a pastor so you never know what can happen. With pleasantries exchanged, she went to the next table to study with a friend.
After they’d finished, she came back to me and asked, “Do you have a minute to talk?” Unless the building is on fire, aliens are attacking, or Elvis is really alive, I have time to talk. And so she sat down.
Our conversation is private, but I do want to say this – every time someone I’ve just met and who has just discovered I’m a pastor wants to talk, their story is the same.
Every time.
It always goes like this:
- I belonged to this church and was a good church member. I gave money/time/talent and supported the church every chance I got, sang in the choir, taught children’s Sunday school, etc.
- But this thing happened. A terrible thing. And I’m devastated and ashamed. And I turned to my church for support.
- But instead of support and comfort I got judgment and condemnation. I don’t know where to turn.
The story is the same.
Every time.
Every single time.
Their questions are never:
- Why do people do that?
- What’s wrong with them?
- How do they justify treating me this way?
Their questions are always:
- Are they right?
- Am I really who they say I am?
- Do I deserve this?
The same questions.
Every time.
Every single time.
Every. Single. #$%& Time
Half the church spends its time unscrewing what the other half screwed.
This was a lively, energetic, bright young woman. She was outgoing enough to start up a conversation with a total stranger over his Aggie ring. Life hit her hard in a way she hadn’t seen coming and she was still trying to understand it.
The proper responses include:
- I’m so sorry this happened
- Nothing can make God love you less
- What happened here is part of your story, but it is not your identity. It happened to you, but it does not define you.
- It’s OK to be angry, hurt, and disappointed. But not all congregations are like that. There are congregations out there that can help you heal.
It seems that when I hear people share dramatic conversion stories, they aren’t convicted of their unworthiness by condemnation or ostracism. They are convicted when:
- Their spouse leaves them
- They’re in handcuffs
- A loved one says, “Let go! You’re hurting me!”
- They hold in their hand the means for ending their life
The people that converted them met them in their feelings of unworthiness and showed them their worthiness as people God loves. They have a chance to change. That’s what the church is called to do.
Every time.
Every single time.
Every single #$%& time.
I was in that coffee shop mentally processing an interview I’d just had with an upper-middle-class church. Ministry is hard with the well-off; they don’t think they need anything and if they do, they can get it themselves. I was pondering the futility of pulling families with teenagers into a relationship they didn’t think they needed. I was wondering if ministry was all about beating your head against a series of walls, wondering if this was something I should jump into all over again. Then I met someone who was pushed out of a relationship she knew she needed. And I was able to provide the words of support and comfort her congregation wouldn’t.
She needed to talk to me. And I needed to talk to her. After we prayed together, I told her I believe God sends you people when you need them.
Every time.
Every single time.
Every single #$%& time.
[Image is “Girl in Despair” by Alyssa L. Miller on Flickr. (CC BY 2.0).]
[She is not the woman I spoke to.]
The Feral Deacon 