I graduated from high school June 13th, 1999. I
was seventeen, a devoted Christian, and oblivious. I didn't date any in high school and went with a male
friend from church to the senior prom, with whom I've never had
any romantic interest. I was both sheltered and not sheltered at
the same time. While I had very well earned my reputation as a
goody two shoes, there were still things in my life that had no
business there. It is true that this was the result of exposure
to certain things during my upbringing, but it would be unfair to
cast too much blame on my parents, as they did not know any
better. My mom isn't exactly what you would call, "a mature
woman of god", though what she knew and all she had she
gladly shared with me and I have much to thank her for. My dad is
what some traditions call a backslider, so to speak. From the way
he lives his life and the things he says, it has long been
apparent he doesn't want much to do with God. But what my dad
needs isn't judged harshly, but loved. Anyways, despite my
parents’ best intentions, my home environment, while stable
and safe, was not exactly godly, and was a hindrance to my growth
and a stumbling stone set before me for a long time.
In college, I did smashing. My grades were good,
I began making friends, although up until I shocked everyone who knew me in my Junior year by getting engaged (see the next lesson on that story), I still hadn't done any dating.
I even made a few good friends that I will remember fondly and
hope will not lose contact with altogether. While I missed
Evangel Temple and my youth group, I had learned the importance
of staying involved in church life, so I happily immersed myself
in campus religious life. I attended the university church
faithfully (thankfully the teaching was solid) and even attempted
to give, though tithing to me was putting money in the plate each
Sunday, regardless of whether it amounted to ten percent or not,
and I suppose I reaped the consequences of that. I also attended
Hope Fellowship (run by the navigators), one of two campus
fellowships for protestant college students. There was also
Fellowship of Christian Athletes and the Newman fellowship
(catholic), those I skipped, although I did attend FCA meetings
once or twice with a friend.
The second semester of my freshman
year a friend at hope whom I had met at my job in the school
cafeteria who turned out to also be a Christian invited me to go
with her to bible study, a group I was a part of the rest of my
college career and made good friends in. My best friend at
college, however, was a girl my age named Angie. She's Lutheran
and darn proud of it, and hence not interested in campus
religious life (and I suppose she reaped the consequences too).
On one hand, we were like twins, on the other, we were
worlds apart. Despite slight but significant differences in worldview,
we got a long good and understood each other on most counts.
I miss her. We were there for each other in some tough
situations. One of my favorite activities in college was playing
psychiatrist and Angie was my victim--err, patient--on many
occasions.
Many people say that college was the best years
of their life, and it was a high point for me. College was
definitely a growing experience for me. It was in college that I
began taking the necessary and normal steps of separating from my
parents that are apart of becoming a mature adult. These were
often very painful as my parents did not understand and often
felt betrayed, and I not knowing any better was doubtlessly at
times disrespectful to my parents, particularly to dad, since I
was at the time under the worldly impression that you did not
have to respect people who did not deserve it, and in my mind
being my dad alone wasn't enough to earn my respect. My
relationship with my dad hasn't been that good since I was
little, though I deeply long to see it fully restored, though
neither one of us knew exactly what we're doing.
As most college students, I kept a hectic
schedule, but unlike most, my extra curricular activities portion
of my schedule predominantly consisted of church, Hope
Fellowship, and Bible Study. One semester I was in two different
bible studies and had some religious event to attend four nights
a week! In addition, I was reading the bible and at least two
devotionals each day and developing a prayer life as well.
As if to make up for this
"overload", I spent a few too many summers vegging on
my parents couch with little else to show for it. So while I was
"super Christian" at school (Angie would semi-playfully
call me Jesus Freak and her version of the classic walking bible
line), at home it was sometimes hard to believe, there was two
summers at least where I barely went to church, despite best
intentions, suffering from and giving into the temptation that
many Christian college students struggle with over holidays.
I remember the first year I tried to go back to
Evangel Temple while I was home, but, strangely, my home church
wasn't home anymore and it wasn't the same anymore, though my old
friends were still around and glad to have me. Despite this, much
to my frustration, during many trips home, (particularly early in
my college career) I slipped seamlessly into my home life in ways
that earned it the stumbling block allegations stated earlier. It
was just not an atmosphere conductive to spiritual growth and it
was embarrassingly all too easy to slip into my old ways, so
these were times of struggle for me. Each visit home, it was more
painfully obvious to me, and I began to fight the temptations
there, often resulting in unsavory difficulties between my family
and I. My last summer home I was experiencing prophetic drives to
speak out against ungodliness, which caused some terrible fights
as showing mercy and love was not exactly my strong point, to say
the least. I could sound terribly self-righteous sometimes,
though self-righteousness was not my problem, neither was it
being judgmental. I simply did not show love as Christ did, a
common issue for those with prophetic tendencies.
The biggest lesson to be drawn from this stage of my life is
the reality that spiritual growth is an on going process, which
is captured by the fact that an alternative title for this lesson
could have been: "Falling down and Getting up," which
is taken from a song my husband sings often, the refrain of which
is, "we fall down, we get up, we fall down, we get up, and
the saints are just the sinners who fall down and get up."
There is a danger here. On one hand, it is not fair, just, or
Chirst-like to look at a struggling christian, raise our noses
and say, "Thou hell-bound backslidder!" We've all been
there and we all have areas we struggle with. In addition, such
an attitude towards genuine and serious cases of backsliding
often makes things worse as it effectively destroys ones witness
to the person and cuts them off from the church by making them
feel unwelcome, to say the least. What they need is love and
gentle hand to lead them back home. We should always approach
struggling christians (and true backsliders)with love, treating
them with respect and dignity, regardless of what they have done.
We should never harshly judge a struggling christian. For
example, the christians often make statements
like, "Thank God he didn't kill me that summer, or I
would have gone straight to hell!" For one, this argument is
rediculous, since it was not our time. Was I out of god's grace
that summer? I'm breathing, aren't I? Was I not a
"real" christian until I surrendered in that school
hall way? In the end, from eternity's point of view, it doesn't
matter, I'm in God's hands. On the other hand, it is wrong to
accept a person as a christian brother or sister based soley on
their word or even participation in church activities. For
instance, to ignore the spiritual danger of a
"christian" living an immoral lifestyle, (regardless of
what their church attendance looks like, though if they refuse to
go at all that is a danger signal) and otherwise bearing what the
bible calls bad fruit, is to do them wrong, for if we fail to
admonish our brother, how do we know they will not fall away?
Unless the fruit of rebellion against god is so strong that their
spiritual state is made plain by the stench, the best path to
walk is to admonish sin, fully acknowledging the danger they are
in without making blanket statements such as, "Brother, you
and I both know if you died today, you would go to hell." I
have yet to see evidence that god is anything but patient with us
when we fall. God indeed knows his plans for us and our hearts,
he's not going to kick us when we're down knowing in a few weeks,
months, or years we'll get back up again, with some gentle
prodding and guidance from the church community. Well, to make
this short, let me end with this thought: it's not the christian
events and activities we particpate in that makes us a good
christian, nor it is evidence there of--unless, that is, those
labors bear good fruit.