Am I Less Than Because I Didn't Do It?

This is long, but I promise I'm going somewhere. Are you up for the journey?

My father is from Albany, GA, and my mother is from Bronx, NY. My three sisters and I were born at Vandenberg AFB, CA. Both my parents served in the USAF, and this fact kept us on the move for the first half of my life. So, already, it would seem our family would be different.

When I was about 4, we moved to Grand Forks AFB, ND. We were one of very few black families, but it didn't seem to be an issue to me. We went to school, played with our friends, and went to church. I didn't really get the whole God, church thing, but Sunday School was fun, and I loved family camp during the summers. I remember the beginning of getting easily heated and a rebellious streak.

Our next assignment was Barksdale AFB in Louisiana. We lived there for four years. It was during this time I developed a shorter fuse/temper, fought with my sisters and kids at school, talked back, experienced "inappropriate touch" by a cousin, was introduced to pornography by a "friend", began a struggle with depression, and hated myself for not being on the A honor roll every 9 weeks. It was also during this time when I read the Old Testament and decided God was a God of wrath. I was too afraid to read the New Testament because I didn't believe I deserved the grace of Jesus' message. I read Revelation and couldn't sleep. I knew my life was messed up, and I didn't know what to do.

All this time, my family was involved in our church. I went to Sunday School and knew the answers. I went to service and acted like I was paying attention. I did Vacation Bible School, sang the songs, did the hand motions, and even prayed in public. I listened to Psalty the Singing Songbook. I watched Superbook, the Flying House, Colby, The Donut Man, and Greatest Adventures - Stories from the Bible.

I was 12 when we moved to Minot AFB, ND.
By this time, I thought I had to be perfect. I thought no matter what, how hard I tried, how much I worked, I'd never be good enough, but I tried anyway. I played sports, sang in choir, studied and aced everything, and strove to be the one everyone saw instead of the one everyone overlooked in favor of someone else. Then, there was the ONE.

How I wanted him to notice me. How I wanted him to pick me. How I invested so much in a hope and a wish.

We left MAFB right after my 14th birthday and headed to Atlanta. I left MAFB with a broken heart, a huge insecurity about being back in the south, and even more head knowledge about God than before. Yeah, we were still active in church. We sang specials and in the choir, did Sunday School, talked to our friends and invited them to church. Does that stop us from striving for acceptance? Does that stop us from looking for peace? It didn't for me. I still carried the hurt from before we got to Minot, and 2 years of living that way only compounded my soul's burdens.

Wheeler High School in 1995 is the scariest place I've ever been in my life. I didn't know what to think, how to act, what to say, who to talk to, and it all barraged at one time.

The next four years of my life are a blur now, but some instances stand out. I remember my first friend. She was the first person to talk to me in three months. So many people thought she was strange, but I was grateful. She introduced me to my chorus teacher, which set me on a path that I still walk today. I remember my first choir solo as one of three freshman in concert choir, something that didn't happen then. I remember getting my first A in high school. I remember my first show - My Fair Lady - and the torrential rain that tried to stop our baby musical theater program from maturation. I remember teaching elementary age kids to read. I remember getting involved in FCA, Theater, Chorus, and developing my writing skills. I remember graduating and being proud of my accomplishments.

I remember the first guy I liked, and how I thought I was wrong because I held on to the hope of the guy up north. I remember how I broke when I found out the guy up north thought I was a joke. I remember fights with girls in the hallway, screaming all kinds of words that a young lady shouldn't use or know. I remember being at parties with my friends and getting high from THEIR smoking. I remember lying, sneaking, manipulating, yelling, rebelling, and demanding. I remember learning lyrics to songs I knew were demeaning. I remember people I knew killing themselves. I remember conversations with friends (guys and girls) that were obscene and contained too many innuendos. I remember graduating with regrets and pain.

I remember Liberty Church and the Lighthouse, my home away from home and saving grace. I remember going to my first camp and not knowing God the way these other kids knew Him. I knew of Him, but I didn't know Him. I remember speaking in tongues for the first time and how it BLEW my mind. I remember physically feeling the Spirit bring me to my knees and being completely unable to stand in His presence. I remember finally feeling free after being baptized by my youth pastor. I remember graduating with purpose and intent.

Let jump forward 10 years. Since then, I graduated from college, worked a couple jobs (steadily now), traveled across half the country, dealt with a huge blow to our family, fell in love and had my heart broken, and now here I am, at 29, a sinner that struggles with addictions, depression, insecurity, and brokenness.

Why did I write this? Because this morning I woke up feeling completely unqualified for ministry. I woke up feeling completely irrelevant, out of touch, ineffective, I've lost touch with the age group God's called me to love, and they all look at me like I'm old, bitter, and legalistic. I woke up thinking "They're going through stuff I never dealt with. Who am I to say anything?"

Please hear me out: no, I don't have to dig through sexual partners, hours of being high on pot or crack or meth, or nights of being drunk beyond recognition, but yes, I have to dig through people that have been eternally broken and killed by my words, hours of sitting in the darkness fighting the urge to die, and nights of pictures and images that are forever burned into my mind.

And yes, I grew up in the church - my whole life.

Don't get it twisted: God is very real to me, and I am very serious about the role He plays in my life. I am redeemed and saved by the blood of the Lamb. I am a daughter of the King, and I am becoming who HE wants me to be.

My heart breaks for the next generation of the church... and I feel like I'm helpless to do anything.

So, am I less than because I didn't do it?
Am I irrelevant because my life isn't full of bad "outer" decisions?

Tonya Cobb really helped put a bow on this one: a person's life isn't their qualification for ministry - their heart for the Lord and his people qualifies them. He calls, equips, and prepares those He has great plans for, and He stays faithful to those faithful to Him.