One of the main symptoms of re-entry shock was anger at the way things are run back home. That symptom, out of all of them, is the one that shocked me the most. Isolation? Psh, I knew that was coming. But this, this has been hard to cope with. I sat in a church on Easter sunday, hundreds of people around me, and all I felt was mad. The fact that we are so privileged as a country to be able to treat Jesus and Christianity as a biannual event and no one seems to care or see that as an issue is baffling and worrisome. Most of the people who proclaim themselves to be Christians… I couldn’t tell you one way or another if they actually have a relationship with Jesus. That is confusing. I used to take people’s word for it, because you can never know someone’s heart. But now, seeing the amount of people who choose convenience over devotion, I just don’t understand.
And I was told I talk too much about it, about what could be different, about what I experienced, the ideal. How can I not, after being violently thrown back into a place with a community that thinks itself to be more spiritually perfect than anyone around them “oh at least abortion is illegal here, oh at least we have multiple churches on every street, oh at least my kids go to youth group” when in reality, it has been dead and rotting for who knows how long?! A life with Jesus is alive! It is seen, it is known, it is recognized. I do not recognize this place anymore. I am struggling to word a lot of this. I hope my point still gets across.
I just think of Raem and Nan. Their little house church. Their desperate lack of Christian community. And yet their faith shines. All who meet them are drawn to the Christ that lives within them and through them. In America, we have endless churches and community, and yet we are dead. I don’t understand.
My church has become a mega church. At least, that’s what it feels like. Brooks and I used to judge the other churches in the area for being too big, to feel-y, too disconnected, but after walking back into Revolution the first Sunday back and seeing a performance, I realized we had been the hypocrites all along. Kansas boasts itself to be predominantly Christian, yet who can say they know God’s voice? Who can say that they would choose to walk with God even if it meant being ostracized from your neighbors? Who can say they would die for Him?
I am repeating myself now. But I am confused and angry, with no right to be. Maybe. These people haven’t seen, or heard, or experienced anything other than this.
Ugh I can’t even write anymore. This isn’t working.
I am mad about Brooks being so “oh that church plays fluffy music, they can’t be real Christians,” while being unwilling to live for Christ beyond what his parents do.
I am mad about my family saying that we are a Godly family, and yet when it comes to Sundays, we leave before we get asked to get more involved in church. There is more yelling and screaming and arguing than actual conversing. I haven’t heard my family willingly choose to pray around each other. Ever. The fact that I was and am hesitant to pray, sing worship songs, lift my hands during church, talk about God around them is concerning.
I am mad about the girl at Small Group who buys a new pair of shoes a week and said she was stressed about money, so she couldn’t tithe. When another member of the group told her about his experience being homeless, when I told her how little you actually need to be content, she yelled that we didn’t know what we were talking about.
I am mad that my entire job is selling mostly useless crap to people who are willing to buy more useless crap to fill their houses.
I am mad at my anger. I have no right to be upset. And yet I feel I have unlocked a special sort of insight that no one wants to hear because it just might call them to leave their comfort zones.
There is a reason that the one person that I felt has really understood me since returning is a woman who was in YWAM for six years. The people I know the best around here do not know me, and that is a curious thing.
I am sad for myself. I see Ethan with his friends, out sharing the Gospel. I see Maddie and Mama Sarah with their families, growing in Christ together. I see Milana at her love feast with her friends, who love Jesus just as passionately as she does. I see Trevor hang out with his people almost every day, back into their group with ease. I talk to Charlie about his community from his church. Jt and his small group. Ellie and her family. Jemima and her DBS. Jaque and her family reunion. Matthew’s friend group. And looking around at what I have. My mom. A few work friends. I shouldn’t complain. It was enough for me before. But the thing is, before, I had never once had a friendship with no strings attached. I never had a friendship where the possibility of waking up to them hating me, where they got to decide if I was worth interacting with, WASN’T a thing. To go to somewhere where I made not just one, but dozens of friendships where we loved each other through it all. And then to lose it. And to go back to this. Is it any wonder that I have had a harder time readjusting than most?
I had another “flashback” today. Of Pattaya. i thought I was past those. But it didn’t make me fully sad. Bittersweet, remembering something lovely that I had previously forgotten.
I didn’t articulate any of my anger correctly. Maybe I don’t even fully understand myself why I am angry. Or maybe I do, and I am still scared of hurting people’s feelings. There is a big world out there. Abilene, Kansas, the United States is NOT all there is. God works in ways that I could never have imagined before getting out, and people are unwilling to accept that because it would involve uncomfortable action.
Ok. I still failed to verbalize that. I am not as angry as this makes me seem. As I’ve said before. Anger and passion are a fine line.
Rainy Ramblings 