Where do I begin? Sitting to write all that has transpired in my heart in the last couple of months, I am found with a deep sense of remorse. In the new lessons learned, I can’t help but reflect on my former years in ministry…and realizing how much I failed miserably. Of course, from the outside, anyone would point out my readiness for servanthood and my loyalty to students and friends. But what was it all for? What really was my motive for leaving my hometown for another place? Yes, Jesus was preached. However, it would be more honest to say that in the midst of people accepting the gospel, if there was to be any credit given, then I wanted to make sure (or hoped it would be, at least) my name would be mentioned. Though Jesus was proclaimed, a selfishness full of pride was my motivation.
I remember being a teenager and praying that God would send me to the “forgotten ones”, because it seemed like everyone else wanted to go to China and Africa. “Doesn’t God want other parts of the world to hear about and come to know Jesus?” I know what it feels like to be left out or chosen last. I know what it feels like to be criticized and told only negative things. I know what it feels like to be underestimated. I know what it feels like to have the good things in me taken for granted. I know what it feels like to be forgotten.
Empathy is not a bad starting point in seeing how God may direct our lives. In fact, more often than not, Christians are more likely to minister to those who come from the same background or have similar stories. Nevertheless, empathy without freedom lays a foundation in mutual lamentation that lacks a resolution. And though I could say I did a good work on the Rez, I wonder how much of the work I did was actually dead, because I failed to make Jesus the center of it all.
Honestly, I think I spent more energy praying that my community would drop their addictions. I hoped that my teens would learn to hold off on sex until marriage. I wanted them to make sure their lives were better. As if that was the end goal?! But how much of that was good, but it wasn’t God? Don’t get me wrong. All those things are great aspirations, but in the realm of eternity, it was SO missing the point!!! When it came to preaching about Jesus, I would encourage my youth to make sure they read their Bibles, pray and share about their faith with their friends.
But what faith did they really have?! Let’s be honest. We live in a nation where Jesus is the name of a good luck charm. And if you have dealt with a lot of trauma, then the desire for change is of the utmost importance. Jesus saves us from sin? You mean there are consequences to my sin? Let me clarify, we did preach these things and more. I did, and still do, have genuine care for my Native friends and family. However, I remember striving so much in an effort for my teens to have a better life, and I wonder if I compromised their ability to have an actual relationship with Jesus. Moreover, I know this compromise occurred, because, unbeknownst to me, I ministered with a motive full of pride. I had a genuine care for the people around me. But…I also wanted to know I could make a positive difference in the world.
I don’t know what it is. We want to be heroes. I am no different. I grew up with different interests for professions, but they all had one thing in common: I would make a positive impact for the world around me. Funny thing is, if someone actually has to become a hero, it is often in a time of chaos. At that moment, the fight/flight/flee system kicks in. Adrenaline pumps extra oxygen through the body; senses are sharpened to identify possible dangers. Fear is the primary motivation, and protection is the primary goal.
One way of protecting the self is to make oneself larger than a perceived threat. In my emotional state, I am guilty of this. I didn’t aim to go to the Rez, because I thought Natives were a threat. However, I know now that I was always the first one to volunteer and help, because I “needed” to prove my worth. I wanted to give a reason to be cherished. I grew up believing my value was in what I do, so...I did. And ironically, other life-long fears reared their effect. And I had no clue.
Why did I want to live in an environment that was highly impoverished? Maybe it wouldn’t be a requirement for questioning, except for the fact that I was willing to help others; however, I wouldn’t dare ask for help for my own needs. All this time, I thought I was helping people, but in my ability, I was also running away from my own inabilities. Did I have any evidence of slight racism or bigotry? At this time, I don’t know. What I do know now is that in my prideful protection, I may have walked in a patronizing form, as to deny any proof of my own needs.
Growing up, I knew I was prideful. I knew that I had a tendency to puff myself up. Get me in a game, and the competition comes out. I’m ready to kill or be killed (and you better believe it, it’s the former). It was one of those sins that, though I knew it was deadly, I only saw it as a mere vice. After all, it was affecting me. Or so I believed. It wasn’t until about a month ago that I realized the extent of pain I caused others, due to my pride.
Interning in Spokane, I thought I would be doing a lot more. Like, A LOT more. But here I am, cleaning toilets, and what other work I do is behind the scenes. I wanted to do outreach, but I felt like God wanted me to go a different direction. “I want you to do worship.” Here’s the funny thing. I am not on the worship team. I hoped that maybe I could clean toilets during the week and help sing on Sundays. And like God does with pride, He set me straight pretty fast. “Why? Is cleaning toilets not enough for you?” Ouch, Daddy. That hurt. In time, I am finding that the worship God wants me to develop during my internship is that of my heart. Nevertheless, there is that pride that still haunts my motives for ministry, at all.
I never thought myself to be patronizing. Without a backbone or boundaries, I understand how my people-pleasing enabled unhealthy habits. However, I wouldn’t have categorized myself as looking down on others. When someone was in a bind, I sympathized with them and would help as needed.
Unfortunately, I am realizing I make myself helpful, even when I am not needed. One of the first people I met in church (Spokane) was a blind woman. And can you believe I moved the trash basket to “help” her? She had to tell me not to do that, because she knew where to find it on her own. So, by me moving the bin, I was babying her, and not allowing her to take care of herself. I wonder how often I have done similar things. How often I have counseled when I should have listened? How often did I implore sobriety when it wasn’t even their desire? How often did I try to parent children that were not my own? How often did I try to encourage self-help strategies without mentioning that it is Jesus who enables, empowers and strengthens us to do His will? And how often did I jump into something with a solution before praying that the Holy Spirit would enter the situation?
As I look back on my time on the Rez, were there any seeds that actually will grow into godly (good) fruit? Ah, the pain that is in my heart! I tried to carry a God-size responsibility on my human-size shoulders. And all because I spent my adolescence and adulthood running away from my own weaknesses! Because as much as I cared for other people, I wouldn’t dare let them know my own crap. Even as I write, I am still guarded.
I still self-protect, because I have learned that I need to care for others, and it is selfish to admit my needs. Yet, in believing that ideology, I have built a wall in receiving God’s love for me. As long as I have these walls, then I will perpetuate the biased view that those less fortunate than myself somehow need my help. As if my help is what will save them. And save them from what, exactly? Let’s be serious. So much of work in an impoverished community is about how we can make their lives better.
But if a family remained poor, is it possible to be wealthy in the kingdom of heaven? If someone gives up their drugs, is it possible to fall for another addiction? If a person never broke sexual immorality boundaries, could they still be absent from receiving love? Could you have everything right, and still have everything wrong? Could a wealthy man find himself in need of assistance with rent? Could hopelessness be found among the affluent alongside the impoverished? Could you have everything and still be lost?
The matter is not where one does ministry. Each of us are going to be called to our separate spheres. However, especially among those of us who do work with communities with noticeable needs, I am learning to become more hesitant to point out what they need. To restate, I am not advocating to leave the poor as destitute and fail to supply for needs. What I am advocating is that we stop earmarking ministry as serving those less fortunate than us. Because the truth is, the lost are everywhere. They can be found anywhere. We were once them. And what they need most is Jesus. There is such a focus on morality, that morality has become a god for us. It has become a standard by which we determine that we must be on the right trail. However, many have done “good things” and have missed it, because they don’t have a relationship with Jesus (see Matthew 7:21-23).
Recently, I went on a prayer drive in the neighborhood my Spokane church is based (Hillyard). I know what is said about this place. It is one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. And yet, on that drive, I felt like God spoke two direct things concerning how to pray. “Do not judge a house by its cover. Do not pray prayers based on stereotypes.” That doesn’t mean that real life issues won’t come up and be addressed. But I am becoming more convinced that God is wanting the priority to be that people come to know Him. Where my focus is will direct my prayers and my hands-on involvement. (When I feed the hungry, am I trying to give them relief, or am I trying to show that Jesus loves and cares about them?)
I don’t know if I will ever go back to the Rez. I would like to. I miss my Native people. In light of this revelation, I realize how wrong I have been concerning ministry. I am so sorry that I ever made it about me. What the heck was I thinking? Honestly! Should I move on from the Rez? Some people may say so. I have even had to let it go in this season, because God wanted to show me that there are people all over the place who need Him. But I remember my desire for the forgotten ones. Maybe I’m drawn to the destitute places, because, in reality, I want to share with them that Jesus has never forgotten them. We may forget, but He has remembered. However, before I can go back - if that is God’s plan for my life - I know that I must also believe for myself that He loves me. He values me. And my worth is not determined by what I can do. Until that is grounded into my identity, I have no business in relaying a gospel my mind doesn’t comprehend as truth; although, my heart knows it is so.
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