When we had settled in the new church, new neighborhood and with Elijah as a newborn, Kevin sat me down and simply said I was going to have to make friends in town. We had lived in Michigan, for about three years, but this move to SW Michigan had removed my previous life in Flint by about three hours. Kevin had been traveling back and forth between St. Joe and our apartment right up until Elijah was born. We had Elijah and then, very pragmatically, moved across the state three days later. I was reluctant to plug into anything. Not knowing what to do with a newborn child aside, church people or church life had never been a culture I related to, not because of my love or commitment for Jesus, but really because, for the most part, the Christian people I had been around since we had been married were inside of a tough, traditionalist box.
Kevin gently lays out a plan, I will attend a weekly women’s bible study that has childcare and seemingly teaches relevant curriculum. At this point I had never attended a weekly bible study outside of youth group activities and had little idea of what was really going to happen. I had not gone to a Christian college like Kevin; a life in ministry was not my life goal. Before we had gotten married Kevin says, concerned, that he assumed I read the bible more. No competing with him, as on top of everything, he was currently doing, youth pastor, board member, public speaker, mighty Christian warrior of the year, he had been given the Servanthood Award before graduating with his undergraduate in theology by his peers.
Competition aside, I did not want to present myself to others, especially in the capacity of ministry, inauthentically. So, hot damn, I started reading the bible. Kevin had intervened before I left the my mother's house to move to Michigan. He asked what my life verse was. I had never heard the term, and was furrow-browed when I realized people were expecting me to have this under my belt. As a parent would take stock of their child when the child should really know better, Kevin pitches for my life verse to be a rather simple one. John 3:30.
He must increase, I must decrease. (KJV)
I do not normally use the King James bible, now I only read the English Standard, but here, the emphasis on must radically defines my path forward as a Christian. I had no idea, or concept of, how this verse would crush every bit of myself through a filter of truth, through a filter of Jesus. I nod to Kevin, furrow-browed again, knowing I will take every last bit of this seriously, not for myself, but for others. I am not going to fuck around with the lives of others. As I try to put this very simple verse to memory I remember asking Kevin "Which one comes first, I must decrease or He must increase?" How telling of my very limited understanding of Jesus. Kevin rolls his eyes, as I have indeed, asked a rather dumb question, and says, "He always goes first."
My go-to ice breaker for Christian groups later on becomes simple as well, I did not get the memo or the notes on what being a Pastor’s wife meant. I had also, never had taken the time to prep, after I agreed to opt in to a life centered around ministry. Kevin jokes, but really, is completely serious, that I did not go to Pastor's Wife School. Over time, I purposefully start cursing more and throw what little hat I had for judgement in the trash, just to get people to trust me. At the time I had no idea the façade over the Christian bubble existed and once I got a whiff I did not want to play any part inside.
I felt like every part within this very romantic, very polished, environment, reflected nothing of who I was. While I was OK with playing Jesus catch up, those around me were not reflective of the kick-ass mentality I had adopted from hearing sermons as a young adult. I did not kick butt; kicking ass had a much greater connection and context. And as I looked around, my perception of comradery with my peers left me wanting. I had heard sermons warning us all to run away from lukewarm sentiments and mentalities, as Jesus would, like a very well written episode of the Twilight Zone, spit us out. I was to be on fire because of my very, most fullest heart.
I hear these warnings, I look around, I take stock of how I feel. I had always, and up until this time of the age of twenty sevenish, felt nothing. Around other charismatic Christians, speaking in tongues, I always noticed when they repeated the same words, as they were taking themselves where ever it was they went. As others wept during worship, I stood only, like a stone. As fellow church members fell out during prayer, because of the Holy Spirit moving in them, I worried about their loss of control. Concerned, I scoped out the sanctuary for Blanket Lady; for those of you not familiar with this role, Blanket Lady would very kindly and courteously, place blankets over those knocked out on the floor. Priority was given to those with skirts or dresses on. These were my radical first encounters with Jesus in a church setting.
They, in no way, moved the needle of emotion inside of me.
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