I’m no stranger to pain. Physical pain was a theme of my high school and college years, emotional pain is becoming a more realized theme for my current state, and spiritual pain is something that I have observed from a close distance. In some sense, I have experienced my own spiritual pain, but the spiritual pain that I’ve felt is mostly because of what has been projected on me or portrayed by people close to me. A lot of my spiritual pain is realized by stories that have been told to me, which could be telling of how painful it truly was, and still is.

Pain is human. Pain is an experience that we are privileged to have but is rarely seen as something good. Understandable.

Pain sucks. Whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual, pain is an experience that is uncomfortable and hard to navigate. Agreeable.

Pain is necessary. Pain is an experience that opens space in our lives for growth, and most often when we don’t want to grow. Annoying.

I’m writing this piece through two lenses. On one hand, I have my own thoughts and experiences - mostly through observation - that speak into these opinions. On the other hand, I have had a plethora of conversations with people who have been extremely hurt in recent years, and I want to approach this without disregarding or downplaying their wounds.

I’m specifically addressing spiritual pain, here. I have come to realize that spiritual and emotional pain have a very close relationship. A relationship of causation, mostly. Spiritual pain today causes emotional pain tomorrow, and vice versa. This is something that I am realizing in conversations with dear friends, and with people I don’t know well but are brave enough to let me into their life. I am noticing that I am no stranger to the topic of deconstructing, pain caused by superiors in religion, and the struggle of healing from pain caused by something so easy to mistake as an identity. In the past few years, I have witnessed people get burned by leaders they trusted deeply, I have seen pieces of thriving organizations crumble in a matter of days, and I have heard cries from the hearts of strong, strong individuals.

I am realizing all of this by sifting through the harsh words being spoken from an emotional place because the realization of the spiritual damage is delayed until the anger has center stage.

Disappointment comes after anger.

Feeling lost and alone comes after disappointment.

Anger comes from feeling lost and alone.

Disappointment comes after anger.

Feeling lost and alone comes after disappointment.

The cycle doesn’t stop until there is someone or something to blame, or, the healthier and more productive realization of the root of it all. I’m led to a question that I have been dwelling on through these conversations.

How do you heal from pain when you didn’t know it hurt until it was over?

I guess, the easy answer is knowing that unrealized pain is trauma and trauma can be treated through therapy. **This is your sign to go get help for past trauma.**

But, in a deeper sense, I’m fixated on practical ways to recover from something that was so painful for so long, but not realized until {insert amount of time} after. I find myself looking for the answers to a lot of questions. Questions like: did you know it was bad? How did you not see it? Did anybody tell you? Were you listening? If you were listening, did you do anything about it? Would doing something about it while it was happening have had any benefit? Is it better to face it? How do you know when something is bad for someone else? Can you be selfish in it? Would it even be considered selfishness? Should you stand your ground when you are called selfish?

I notice my desire for justice becoming deeper and deeper in the past few years. I often find myself wanting to go back to a specific time and punch some people in the throat for things they did to people who would never punch anybody in the throat. I get worked up by stories of leaders abusing subordinates in the name of the vision of the organization. I get frustrated by the truth that I don’t know about it until the affected people are seeing real-life damage and then I’m humbled because of the perspective that I’m angered by their story, but it’s a story that they are living.

How do you heal from something that you unknowingly persevered through?

I met a woman recently who is currently living in this very space that I’m talking about. She is on the back end of a life-changing few months that have caused wounds that she is now aware of, but I’m not convinced that she is as far along in her healing as she thinks she is. She has recognized what happened, and that is brave. Step one, some might say. To be frank, I’m worried that she is operating in a false strength spurred by the absence of the setting. She has moved on from the people and the place that has caused the wounds, but I worry that she is just gritting her teeth and pushing forward, justifying it by distractions of good deeds and active faith through ministry.

I hope I’m wrong.

In a recent conversation with her, she was bold enough to share her heart on a couple of my questions.

As I said, I wonder if you can know it is bad while it’s happening. In her case, yes, to a degree. It wasn’t until the tail end that she realized how bad it actually was. She mentioned that she didn’t know for so long because she thought it was normal, then used the words “spiritual manipulation” when explaining what was happening.

Someone is being manipulated so intently that they believe it is normal. Woof.

I asked her if she tried to do anything about it or stand up for herself after realizing what was going on, and she said yes but only to be pinned as the villain. Financial leverage was used to force decisions in the interest of leaders, ultimatums were used to deepen manipulation, and a narrative of “you should be grateful for what I have provided you” was planted into her head, leading her to make the decision to remove herself and move on. That, in itself, is brave, but how does she heal?

I don’t think her story is an anomaly. I think this is a common happening in the current American Christian structure and is a cause for the fad of deconstructing. I had a conversation with a friend not long ago on the idea of deconstructing. His stance is clear, millennials are getting soft and truth is being replaced by grace when we talk about Jesus things. I tend to agree with him on the second half of that thought, but I have been a lot closer to manipulation and spiritual damage than he has, which provides some empathy for people in the deconstructing space. My contribution to that conversation was that I don’t think people are actually deconstructing their faith. I don’t think people are deconstructing Jesus and His Gospel, but instead are realizing past hurt. Once hurt is realized they begin deconstructing what has happened to their heart and spirit in the past, then projecting that hurt onto the person of Jesus and making it Christianity’s fault. I have yet to hear anybody say something along the lines of, “I can’t believe what Jesus did to me while I was leading that group, and I will never lead for Him again.” I have not been part of a conversation where a deconstructing Christian is deconstructing because of something that Jesus did to them. I have, however, heard a story similar to the one above far too frequently since becoming a Christian myself.

Maybe deconstructing is the process of healing. Maybe moving on, removing yourself from the people and the place causing hurt, is the process of healing. Maybe bringing the shit straight to the feet of Jesus and allowing Him the space He deserves to do what He does is the process of healing. Maybe you’re better at that than I am.

I hope my new friend is one of the strongest people I have ever met. I hope she is taking this shit straight to the feet of Jesus, allowing Him the space to do what He does. Lord, I hope she is.

I want to have more conversations with people who are deconstructing and get to the nitty-gritty of what they are truly deconstructing. I want people who are healing to be able to sit down and tell me what the hell to do. But, when it comes down to it, I want people to stop being assholes when they have power.

Cheers to you for healing, and I’ll pour one out for what was lost in the past.

Christians have left an extremely bitter taste in my mouth since my conversion in 2011. Even more bitter than the taste politicians have smeared on the back of my tongue, and politicians have been scummy my entire life. It’s no secret that I have issues with the church. I’m realizing that a lot of my issues stem from my own selfishness, but not this one. I have seen the line between patriot and Christian mudded and blurred by way too many proclaiming Christians and Jesus-preaching churches in my life to believe that it’s my selfishness creating an imaginary trust issue.

For clarification’s sake, let’s establish the meaning of the word Christian vs. the word nationalism.

Christian comes from the Greek word Χριστιανός (Christianos) and literally means “follower of Christ”. You probably knew that, but if you didn’t, you’re welcome.

The Merriam-Webster definition of nationalism is loyalty and devotion to a nation. Especially a sense of national consciousness exalting one nation above all others and placing primary emphasis on promotion of its culture and interests as opposed to those of other nations or supranational groups

Based on definition alone, the line between the two is blatantly obvious.

Christian, draw the line! Pick a side and stay there. Get rid of the “but. . . “ thoughts you have when a politician pushes a policy. Next time you hear about a policy that you don’t agree with, and your first thought is, “but, what about me [my business, my job, my taxes, my life, etc.]?” it’s time to check your heart.

A fantasy has been dreamed up, in the most American-way possible, that in order to spread the Gospel, one must be American, and their American liberties have to be upheld. A fantasy that convinces republicans that democrats hate Jesus and can’t see the truth through their liberalness, therefore every single democrat in America is out to rape, steal, and kill all Christians. A fantasy that tells democrats that republicans are too narrow-minded and stupid to accept that God creates people who don’t look like WASPs; therefore, they don’t belong. A whisper from the enemy that tells republicans that it is not possible to be liberal and Christian and tells democrats that it’s impossible to be a republican with empathy and perspective. It’s created a perception that there is no way for Jesus to be made known unless the listener sits on the same side of the aisle as the speaker. We tweet, go to church on Saturday night (because Sunday is for football watching), type out Instagram captions, and believe people will only hear about Jesus if we are able to say what we want when we want how we want because we have freedom of speech. But, if you don’t agree with how or what I am saying, then you’re infringing on my American right and you’re going to prison for tyranny and then hell because you’re anti-America.

Jesus doesn’t care about your American liberties.

Is the Holy Spirit not your freedom of speech? Is Jesus not your business’ success? Is God not more authority than your (insert American liberty you’re clinging to too tightly here)?

“THEY’RE CENSORING US!! I can’t believe we are going to let big tech control the conservative voice! They’re stripping all of our freedom!”

Boo-freaking-hoo. See what Jesus says in Matthew 5:10-11, and again in John 15:19, and again in John 16:33.

Paul the Apostle was inside of prisons that were too gruesome to even be on Netflix’s Inside the World’s Toughest Prisons. Read what he has to say in 2 Timothy 3:11 after you read about all of the persecution he endured in his other letters. His letters not only made it to the people he was writing to, in the time period that he wrote them, but also to hundreds of millions of people years, decades, and centuries later. Was Paul American? Did Paul have freedom of speech? Did Paul have a constitution to keep him out of prison? Was Paul controlled by the government? Was Paul censored? I’ll tell you this - Paul was saved, Paul shared the Gospel, Paul’s voice continues to be heard.

Not too long ago I was confronted by an Instagram follower after I posted a story explaining the 1st Amendment, and what it protects American citizens from. I didn’t think the post was too political, if at all, and I didn’t add any opinions to it. It was a photo of a tweet, tweeted by an author and well-educated man, that explained freedom of speech. I shared it with the hopes that people would be educated if they were not already. Said follower is someone I have met a few times, we have some mutual friends, and I would consider to be an acquaintance more than a person I have a relationship with. Follower is very opinionated and very openly conservative, while inserting Jesus, and the Christian faith, every once-in-a-while. The conversation went as follows:

Follower: “Just wait until they ban people for posting about their Christian values.”

Yours truly: “Muslims and Buddhists have been censored [pushed aside, oppressed, etc.] since 1776.” ~~ Admittedly, that was a bad rebuttal and pointed the conversation in a direction that I did not want to go.

Follower: “By all means, keep trying to convince yourself it’s ok.”

Yours truly: “Never said it was okay to censor people. The point is: the first amendment keeps you from being punished, by law, for words. . . there’s a line between censorship and violating constitutional rights. That line hasn’t been crossed yet.”

Follower: “Ah so ‘yet’ being the key word. Don’t fight until it [affects] you. Don’t realize it’s a slippery slope and censoring conservative voices today can’t turn into censoring Christian voices tomorrow. Continue defending the censoring because nothing bad has happened. . . yet.”

And then, he finishes his point with this: “. . . as a Christian you must realize this.”

As a Christian you must realize this.

AS A CHRISTIAN, YOU MUST REALIZE THIS

Oh, boy!

My initial reaction was to tell him that if he was going to approach this conversation through a Christ-following lens, then there are too many holes in his argument because of contradictions alone, let alone missing the entire calling of a believer. Shutting Christian mouths is what he’s worried about. Almost like it would be the first time ever that a government has not allowed humans to talk about Jesus. It’s ironic because I think I have read somewhere that this has actually been a very common theme. I can’t put my finger on the article, or book(s), that I read it but I know I’ve seen it. Bible, maybe?

I can’t say that I’m surprised. The concerns that the American government are going to not allow Jesus’ name on Twitter are based on an American view of persecution that is, in fact, not persecution at all. In a biblical sense, at least. Americans just don’t like to be called out on hypocritical tendencies of saying this is one nation under God but never actually showing the nation God’s personality. We say, “in God we trust,” and, “don’t tread on me,” in the same breath but don’t see the problem with that.

In fact, America has never been the “Christian Country” that some say it was/is. The pledge of allegiance was written by an American, not by Jesus or any bible character. The constitution was written by a group of WASPs trying to impose restrictions on certain people while advancing themselves to success in the form of life (money), liberty (money), and the pursuit of happiness (money). The idea that taking Twitter away from a citizen is a violation of constitutional rights is a nationalist idea, it’s not a Christian idea. Jesus doesn’t care if a big American company, with big American money, makes you stop talking when you’re being ugly towards God’s most beloved creation. He cares that you’re being ugly to God’s most beloved creation.

Just recently, a conversation has been started about the difference between the American nationalist and the Christian. In the church. Actually being preached in churches. A conversation that is way too late. A reaction, rather than a warning. A conversation that is not happening enough, and that does not show enough passion to drive a point. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is a conversation that happens in healthy church buildings all throughout the country, and has been happening for decades, but I don’t think so. I don’t think so because the current narrative is not one that pleads, we knew this would happen if we, as a Church, were not careful, the current narrative is one of fear, panic, and sadness.

The apostle Paul is writing letters to the American church.

Pastor, if Jesus walked into your church on any Sunday in 2020, would He flip the tables in your foyer?

Americans who proclaim Christ need to get over themselves and recognize the difference between nationalism and following Christ, myself included. American politics will never align with Jesus. Ever. Republican policy will never be Gospel centered. No matter how much you hide behind ending abortion. Democratic policy will never be Gospel centered. No matter how much you hide behind healthcare for all. American politics are divisive and greedy. All politics, for that matter, are the epitome of sin consolidated in a profession posing as a good deed designed to take care of a population. As a Christian, you must realize this. The sooner you do, the sooner you can stop getting upset when you’re let down by the American government.

Nonetheless, there are words being preached from the pulpit about the actions of psychos who use Christ’s name as a safety cloak.

Stop using your weak faith as a weapon when your feelings are hurt. Recognize that humans are sinful beings and separate your constitution from your Savior.

Here’s another beer.

WASP is a white, Anglo-Saxon, protestant.

JC is Jesus Christ

Notice the difference in church and Church

Jesus would have for sure walked into a church in 2020 because He’s Jesus and COVID is allergic to Him.

I’m in a bad place. Not in a ~I need you to worry about me and ask me if I’m okay~ type of bad place, but in more of a ~this little light of mine. . . forgot how to shine~ type of bad place. It’s really only a bad place in my own head, because of my own head. On the outside, it’s probably hard to see what is so bad about where I’m at in life - I live in a great city, and I have an incredibly talented wife who trumps me in the looks department and rivals every bit of intellect that I have. I have friends, lots of friends. I play golf often, I go out and drink beer often, I have food when I’m hungry, and all the things that your mom told you to be grateful for because there are kids in Africa. Yes, I have a lot of good things in my life. I have good things that go so far beyond material things that sometimes I forget that I have material things. A spider web of a support system that I can’t see the end of, friends so genuine they make me question if I’m worth their time because I could never be as good of a friend as them, role models that I can only dream of imitating one day, family, and family that is not actually family but is closer than my actual family. But, friends, let me tell you: my brain is a dark, scary, maze of a place that can be extremely difficult to get out of sometimes. Can you relate to that?

This piece is not easy for me to write. I have a hard time talking about myself and my brain. I’m all about vulnerability and verbally processing things that are hard to sift through, but not for myself. I tell other people to do it because it’s good for you, but I have a hard time doing it because I don’t think anybody will care what I have to say. Oftentimes I don’t think anybody will understand what I’m saying, or I won’t be able to find words that make it make sense, so I avoid it by asking other people very good questions or laughing it off with deflective sarcasm. My wife gets the brunt of the consequences of the deflections, and I think she finally got fed up with it. Recently she has started asking me very good questions. Questions that are hard to answer for 2 reasons: 1) I don’t want to, and 2) I haven’t actually thought about it. I just get wrapped up in my feels, which is disgusting. Now I’m at a point that I have started processing the bad place that I’ve known I’ve been in for quite some time, and I think it’s my brain attacking itself.

I doubt this will be wrapped with a bow and come to a conclusion at the end. These are my {somewhat} organized thoughts on a page, and I haven’t finished thinking.

If I’m being honest with myself, it has been years. Two for sure, but maybe more. Two years of my “mental” being in a place most accurately described by asking, “who, what, where, why, and how the fuck?” What the fuck is happening? What the fuck am I doing? Where the fuck am I going? Why the fuck. . . ? How the fuck. . . ? It feels like a whole bunch of giant question marks at the end of almost every decision I make. Day in, day out there seems to be nothing but question marks.

Here is what I have been aware of: I justify it as being circumstantial. It’s because of my job (mostly), or it’s because of where I live, or it’s because of this, or it’s because of that. What I think I am learning is that I am blaming my circumstances for anxieties that I’m avoiding.

Recently, I have been humbled into using my brain to process who, what, where, why, and how the fuck. Life has just reared all the way back, wound up, and kicked me right in the cojones, and I think I’m in the midst of a breakthrough because of it.

It’s because of my job.

Back in 2017, when I was finishing my undergrad, I never really gave any thought into what comes next. I already had a full-time job that I enjoyed, for the most part, and knew that I was going to keep that when I graduated. I was having a great time dating Jos and knew that I was going to marry her. I was living with two of my best friends and had to search very hard to find a complaint about it. I never really thought about what happens when things change. Then, to my surprise, in April of 2018, just over 3 months after I graduated, I decided that I was not going to keep said job past September. I wanted to be the next Don Draper and take on the advertising world. In Albuquerque, New Mexico. A very small market. With only an undergraduate degree in strategic communication. Fantasy? Yes, but I tried to do just that. I got an internship with a highly decorated firm and started working towards my dream of being the brains behind a widely known ad campaign. I was thrilled. I put my tie on, poured my coffee, and was out the door to make it 2 minutes late on my first day. I pulled in the parking lot right as my boss was getting out of his truck. I tried to beat him to the door so I could say I was there before him but failed. By the end of my first week I was so bored I could cry. I think the only thing I did for 7 weeks was help plan my wedding and find a different job. So, I did just that.

I got a job in production (tract) home building. I was thrilled. A real job with a real salary and real benefits. Something that mattered to me. I took off like a nascar, learning quicker than any other superintendent and becoming an assistant project manager within months. Like, 3 months. After 6 months I was so fed up with it that I wanted to quit every day. It was awful. The pressure from corporate was intense and unnecessary, the demands from the homeowners were laughably out of touch with reality, and the expectations of the subcontractors were wildly hard to grasp. I got most fed up with my perception that nobody really listened to me. Some days I would get lost in a train of thought that I wasn’t good enough at the job, so nobody respected me. Other days I would tell myself that I was better than the job and would find success somewhere else. Most days I felt so defeated by 10 AM that I would just give up and sit on the couch of a model home, believing that nobody would know I was gone because they don’t respect me anyway. Maybe the worst part about it was that every day I woke up and told myself that it was going to be a good day. That I was going to make it a good day. Thinking I could change my thought process which would change the reality, only to feel beat up by lunchtime. Round 12 in the ring with Mike Tyson, type of beat up. I made it another 6 months and then quit without another job.

Jos and I wanted to move away from Albuquerque, so I started slinging out resumes in Denver and Dallas, to see which stuck. BOOM. I got a job in custom home building in Denver. I was thrilled. Custom homes without the pressure of timelines and corporate budgets. A high-end product so the subcontractors will care more. I was hired by somebody who didn’t know me, which means they have to think I’m good at this. This is going to be great, right? Wrong. After 6 months I hated it. It felt no different than tract homes and it seemed like nobody cared as much as I cared. I was struggling with subcontractors not listening to me, thinking they didn’t respect me. Homeowners would call the project manager instead of me, so I told myself that I wasn’t good enough. I started believing that I didn’t know enough about it and was learning too slowly. It didn’t help that for 4 of those 6 months I was actually on a machine doing work that I went to college specifically to avoid. I mean, am I that bad at managing projects that you have to stick me on an excavator? I would wake up every day and say, “well shit. Here we go again,” and end every day by saying “what the fuck is happening?” I was sat down by my bosses and encouraged to quit. So I did. Without a plan, in the middle of a global health crisis, in a city where I’m not networked, towards the climax of arguably the most heated presidential race in America’s existence.

All because some days I wasn’t good enough and some days I was too good.

Now I’m working a temp job, at a wild game butcher shop. I’m a sausage stuffer 4 days a week, and meat packer 3 days a week. Talk about work that I went to college specifically to avoid.

What I think I am realizing is that when I avoid working through anxieties, I make my circumstances 100% of my reality. I tend to get to a place where I think I’m better. Then, I check myself and fall, quickly, to the other side of the spectrum and believe that I am not good enough. I have spent years in a cycle of blaming other things for making me feel like my life sucks, getting to a place of arrogance, getting called out, then cowering to a place of worthlessness. I am yet to find the “something in the middle”, where I don’t have to love my circumstances to love myself. I don’t know what it’s like to be in between too good and not good enough. I don’t take outside forces for what they are: forces. Designed to force me into a place that I am not okay. I haven’t found the place where I am okay but my _____ is not.

I don’t think I am good enough for the superintendent job title, but I think I’m better than tract homes. I think I’m better than living in a “garden level” apartment, but I haven’t done enough to prove otherwise. I think I am too good for a $15/hour job but maybe I’m only worth $10/hour. Now I am standing in a cooler, alone with these thoughts of being better, then of not being enough. There are hundreds of pounds of meat that need to be stuffed into sausage form. I’m working for an hourly wage, so I don’t lose my garden level home. *Insert Kenneth Copeland laugh here*

What. the fuck. happened?

I think I have spent so long believing these things that my brain has tricked me into a bad place. A place where I am always grumpy. I’m like a grumpy old white dude who has been calloused for so many years that nobody wants to talk to me. A get-off-my-lawn, Clint Eastwood, type personality that nobody likes to be around. A type of personality that I don’t like to be around. I have told myself over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, that it’s because of something else, and because of that something else I don’t want to be around myself. Then, I change that something else and am gutted when I fall into the same cycle. I change the circumstance, then find a deeper, darker place of my brain. I let that effect EVERYTHING around me because it seems like a place that I can’t get out of. I have found places so dark that this little light of mine can’t shine, and I’ve been there for so long I’m scared it forgot how to.

Right now, I’m not okay. I’m not okay because I haven’t been able to avoid the same thoughts when my circumstances change. But now I’m thinking, as well as feeling.

Raise your glass - cheers to thinking and not avoiding anxieties.

Don Draper: a main character in Mad Men played by Jon Hamm.

Tract Homes: a “tract” of land is a master planned community development where homes are built en masse. Known to be built quickly and cheaply.

Superintendent: a low, to mid-level site manager.

Garden Level: a fancy word for basement apartment.

Kenneth Copeland: a psycho mega-church, televangelist pastor who looks like a doll in a horror movie. He’s recently made headlines for creepily laughing because “the media says Joe Biden is the next president.” He is no stranger to the spotlight as earlier this year “blew away” the coronavirus. Google it, or maybe you can youtube it and see what this dude really believes.

Preface: This is written through the lens of my experiences and the experience of a good friend of mine. This is not meant to attack one church building or one specific ministry.

For years, I was heavily involved with a parachurch ministry that carries out its mission in middle and high schools. The latter years of my involvement were done on campus at UNM, in the college entity of the ministry. I will not use the name of the ministry in this piece, so from hereforth I will be referring to it as Youth Living. Youth Living prides itself on inclusion. The mission of the ministry is to go where kids (students) are and meet them there, including every single one because the Gospel is for the 99 and the 1. I’m paraphrasing, but the concept remains: “every kid, everywhere.” Simply put, the ministry fails tremendously at its own mission. To the same point, the American church has come up short as well.

I had a conversation with a good friend a few nights ago, and he said something that sparked some thoughts for me. For context, this friend was also heavily involved in Youth Living for many years. Not only him, but his entire family. His family has been involved at a 30,000-foot level, just as much as at a boots-on-the-ground level. He was impacted greatly as a student, which bled into him impacting others as a leader for many years. This ministry has been nothing but beneficial for him and me, both. There have been eyebrows raised throughout the years, but nothing but love and passion for carrying out the mission of Youth Living. In reality, we have nothing but affection for Youth Living, but we fit the mold.

Now, the conversation that he and I were having started with a confession from left field. What started as a couple of friends shootin’ the shit turned into a thought-provoking conversation when he decided to let me in on something that he’s been processing. A few months back, he made a decision that has affected his life in a way that not many people experience in their lives. He made a mistake that ended up with him in some pretty serious legal trouble. Pretty serious, meaning a couple of weeks in the slammer, followed by months of community service, and a state-mandated alcohol class. There has already been incredible redemption in his story, but that is not where I am headed. During our conversation, he actually suggested to me that I, and everyone I know, stop by an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting. Not because everyone I know is an alcy, but to hear the perspective on alcohol and learn through that lens.

In his suggestion, he said, “. . .the first time I walked into a meeting I was greeted with a welcome that I had never experienced. It was even better than [Youth Living].”

Wow.

For a man of his stature, a man of his faith, a man of his affection towards the ministry, a man who tries very hard to provide the same experience that he received, to say that.

The idea of inclusion, or being welcomed, in Christian circles has always been on the forefront of my Christian brain. I have been deeply hurt by a church and a church body, which causes me to be on guard around Christians. I am no stranger to the idea that Youth Living is as deep a Christian clique as any and can be painfully exclusive. That was never my experience, but I know it is a reality for some. It was never my friend’s experience either, and for him to make that statement makes me think even more. It brings so much perspective. When I think of AA, I think of people who have been humbled in, possibly, embarrassing ways. I think of people who have reached a place that nobody should ever get to. To no fault of their own, don’t assume that I am blaming these people for anything that they’ve experienced. I don’t know their stories. I’m imaging that most of these people had to have other people shake them into the realization that there is a problem, and they need real help. Sure, some have the realization themselves, but I think for the majority it is a team effort from the people that love them.

So, imagine having very good friends. Very good friends who all have the same passion and know people all over the world. Literally, being able to go {almost} anywhere in the world and running into somebody that knows at least 3 other people that you know, because of Youth Living. Imagine going across the country and staying with somebody you have never met, because they trust somebody with their life that you trust with yours, and upon arrival you immediately have everything to talk about and are instant friends. Now, think about being a part of this network of people for 10+ years. Can you even dream up the amount of people you would know? The level of relationships you would have? Pouring your life into relationships with people, trying to make the newbs feel like they are a part, just like a couple people did for you years ago, leading to lifelong friends and the deepest relationships in your life.

Then, you make a mistake.

Although all of your closest friends are supportive and kind, you walk into a room full of strangers and receive a welcome that you have never experienced.

A room full of strangers who have one thing in common: true humility.

That is powerful. It’s powerful because it screams brokenness.

This thought is twofold, right? On the one hand, these people had to be broken to be humbled. The people in this meeting share humility because they share brokenness. They share the feeling of being completely broken, admitting that they can’t fix it on their own. On the other hand, it brings to light the blatant brokenness of systems, specifically in the church.

A church of people who say they have been humbled because they are broken. A global Jesus ministry, founded on the idea of welcoming everybody, doesn’t stand a chance to a room of 7 people. This goes deeper than Youth Living. This is a church issue.

I think about the greeters at the front doors of a church on a Sunday.

I’ve attended churches with 12,000 members, and I’ve been to churches with 30 members. Everything from seeing 20,000 people through the doors in one day to 6 people through the doors on a designated night. All of these places have people standing at the doors waiting to say hello. If I’m ever lucky enough to have a conversation with a greeter, it always looks similar.

Greeter: “Hi! Welcome! We’re so glad you’re here today!

Me: “Hi! Thanks.” As I try and scurry past, so I don’t engage the same conversation with the same dude as last week.

Greeter: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Jacob.” While my thoughts become aggressive;

It’s Jacob, Brad. My name is Jacob. The same that it was last week, and the week before that, and the week before that, and every week for the last 2 years that I’ve been showing up at 8:56 AM for the 9:00 AM service at this church!

Greeter: “Oh so good to meet you, Jacob! Is this your first time?”

Me: “Nope. Nope. It’s uhhh. . . no, I have been here before. We talked last week.”

Then I walk away because now it is cringingly awkward.

I think about the small group leader who intentionally talked to only me for 10 minutes the first time I went. The very next week, the very same leader starts the conversation with, “I’ve met you before,” while oddly pointing a finger gun and giving me a complete side-eye, “but remind me of your name?”

I think about the leader of the “connect ministry,” infamous for initiating the I-know-we-have-talked-many-times-but-I-still-can’t-remember-you-so-I’m-going-to-ask-vague-life-questions-until-you-say-something-that-triggers-my-memory conversations.

Is it just me, or does this interaction happen WAY more at places that claim to be welcoming and inclusive than anywhere else in life?

The system is broken, and it’s broken because there is an agenda. The agenda is to make people feel like they are welcomed, no matter what. But are you actually welcoming that person?

Dear Christian, you’re trying too hard!

You’re doing too much, and it’s making it worse.

Stop acting like you care about what I do throughout the week if you’re not going to remember my name next time I see you. Close your mouth; your smile is creepy. No, don’t hug me. I don’t like hugs; we established that last week when you tried to hug me.

There always seems to be a pattern when inclusivity is the nucleus, and the harder people try, the faker it seems.

Maybe the solution is to stop TRYING to be inclusive and actually BE inclusive. Maybe the fix is that inclusivity is an attitude, or a lifestyle, rather than a conversation. I realize it is unrealistic for everybody to remember everything, but I’m not talking about everybody and everything. I’m talking about the fact that a room full of strangers who admit they are broken is more welcoming than the church full of broken people who are trying to be welcoming.

Maybe the reason an AA meeting is safer than your small group is that it’s founded on genuine acceptance of being broken, rather than an acceptance narrative because that’s what you’re supposed to say.

I’m not going to be everything to everyone, and neither should you. I’m damn sure not going to have a bullshit conversation for the sake of inclusion, and neither should you. I want you to feel like you’re actually a part of my life, and I hope you call me out if I don’t.

Do you need another beer?

The 99 and the 1 reference Matthew 18:12: “What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off?“ NIV. We, Christians, always talk about leaving the 99 who fit in to go find the 1 who doesn’t, with hopes of including them.

“Brad” was a made-up name. I’ve never actually met a greeter named Brad.

To all the church greeters: I know that job is hard. I know you see so many faces at once, and it’s hard to remember. Do it well. Maybe just say “HI!” and not try to have conversations; I don’t know.

To all my small group leaders: if you feel attacked, then maybe it’s time to do better. Try harder. Write things down so you don’t forget. Be honest; don’t pretend like you remember if you don’t.

To all my “connect ministry” leaders: your job is to connect people to other people who will be a part of their lives. You don’t need to be a part of everyone’s life. If that’s your passion then do a great job of connecting, and people will include you because of it.