I have had an off again, on again relationship with my church. My family began to attend Elizabethotown Bretheren in Christ when I was in third grade. I went to Sunday school and made friends, learned songs, colored pictures, memorized verses, made macaroni neckalces, went to camp. Overall, as a kid, church was good.
But as fun and enjoyable as church was as a kid, that is how awkward it became as an adolescent. In fourth grade I began to homeschool, and continued, except for ninth grade, until graduation. The youth group at church was big and I was the kid on the outside. Literally. Sometimes the group of kids would stand in a tight circle and laugh and talk about last night’s Saturday Night Live, which I had totally never seen, and it was physically impossible to squeeze in. But youth group... That is where I learned to love Jesus. I joined the quiz team in junior high. The others on the team were older, and were nice and very funny and I loved it. Our youth pastor Jim, was an amazing teacher. One of the best spiritual mentors I ever had. So, by the time I finished my ninth grade year in school, and decided to homeschool again, two factors in youth group were decided. I wasn’t gonna mesh with the SNL/ Austin Powers clan. I wanted to, they were incredibly cool, it just wasn’t happening. And I knew that Jesus really loved me.
Here is an evening that stands out as one of the most special in my life. I attended a smaller Bible study, maybe eight people. I remember praying together, sitting crosslegged on the floor. We were studying something like Ephesians. What I really remember was the struggle inside. It is one of those things that is easy to trivialize now, but I was in love, for real I think...and he was starting to see someone else. She was my friend, an amazing young woman that I looked up to. And they both sat in that room praying with me, and my heart ached. At the end of the evening, one of our leaders asked me to wait a minute before leaving. He left the room and came back with the flowers from the alter that sunday. Pink carnations. He and his wife were deacons and it was their responsibility to take the flowers that week and give them to whoever they chose. And he gave them to me. I went home that night and photographed those flowers from every possible angle, then I laid down on my bed and lifted my arms to the ceiling and I am sure that Jesus gave me a hug that night. A real one.
In tenth grade, when I began to homeschool again, I joined a co-op with other homeschooled students my age. I made some great friends and felt like I was in heaven. They read books instead of watching late night tv, and that year I read GK Chesterton for the first time. And we talked about it! Me and my tenth grade homeschooled friends. So I invested more there and began attending a little charasmatic church called Capital Christian, where many of my new friends went. It was a switch. They sang songs for a long time and I went through the whole, “am I ok if I don’t speak in tongues question”, and decided that I was. But it is interesting now that of the other students that went there, one became Catholic, one Messianic, one Presbyterian, so not many really stayed in the loose charasmatic tradition. Probably because we read too much Chesterton.I think I maintained somthing of a dual relationship with both churches until graduation. Maybe I went to youth group in E-town in wednesday nights, and Capital on Sundays. By the time I graduated, I was fairly unconnected with both. Jim left his position as youth pastor to a new position as a senior pastor at another church, and all my homeschooling friends graduated and scattered. A lot was brewing with my family as well, and I entered college feeling very disconnected from any particular church. My faith was strong, but there was no support system to handle the changes to come.
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