Why I love my job...

 I am very fortunate to love my job. I do not love every part of it, of course. As my Dad always said, "If it was easy, they wouldn't call it work." I am not fond of grading papers and record keeping. I hate assigning grades to students, it feels too much like a judgement on who they are, though it is supposed to be a judgement of what they have done. Sartre says that man is "... nothing else but the sum of his actions," , and he's a pretty clever fellow. I'm not sure that I agree with him. After all, we don't judge a baby by its accomplishments, and we should be quick to forgive people for their mistakes. But I need to move on before I give myself a philosophy headache. I'm not here to talk about the things I don't like about my job, but to share a specific instance of something I do like.

My favorite class is Building Relationships in English, a course of my own design. At the end of the semester, I almost always ask the students to tell me something they have learned in my class, and how it has changed, or will change, their life. Sometimes it's an exam question, sometimes an interview, and sometimes just a course survey.

This year one student submitted an answer that blew me away. In fact, it made me cry the first time I read it. And the second. Be warned, grab a tissue. My student wrote:

I learned everyone needs to be loved. I thought loving is only for people who have enough money and time. I thought being loved is too big thing for me to feel. I was not ready to be loved. So i avoided to be loved by someone who says they like me or even my family.

But everyone needs to be loved because love heals. Now I know that I deserve to be loved. So I will be able to open my mind to people who like me and accept the love. Then I can have people loving around me. I will also give love to people who I love to heal them by loving.

How to Leave a Church pt. 4

My friend Rick keeps asking me, "Why is it so hard for you to leave RICC behind?" And by "keeps asking" I mean that he has been asking me for years. But now the question feels a lot more pointed, and the answer has become more complicated.

Rick and I share a lot of theology, and I've learned a lot from him about God and the history of Christianity. He and I started having conversations about The Church and God and other stuff more than 20 years ago. We took a break for about ten years, then picked right up again as though we had never left off. We have helped each other through some hard times, and I am very pleased to have him as a friend.

For years my parents suggested that maybe I should consider leaving RICC, though they have only visited a handful of times. Granted, they have only heard my side of the story, but they have heard it in almost as much detail as Rick has. 

My parents and I also share a lot of theology, which is not always the case with parents and children. It's good to find that I still like my parents, and can discuss religion and politics with them when I know so many people who have to avoid these topics.

My friend Tim told me to go back, but that was in order to practice forgiveness. He was all in favor of me shaking the figurative dust off of my sandals.

Today (February 7th, 2023) I talked with a former pastor of my home church, First Christian Church, Leavenworth, Kansas. Lynn was never my pastor, but I had met him and heard him preach a few times. I sent him the first two Roblog posts about how to leave a church, but had not talked about it with him at all (though my parents had). My Dad suggested that he might be able to offer me some insight into my situation, and perhaps help me see a path moving forward.

We met at Harbor Lights Coffee Shop in beautiful downtown Leavenworth, Kansas. Once we had our drinks (chai latte for me, smoothy for him), he wasted no time in saying, "I don't understand why you are still with this church. They refuse to allow you to practice your gifts, and are likely afraid of your theology. You do not owe them anything." 

With that, something clicked, and I felt release. Freedom. Forgiveness. Grace. People had been telling me the same thing. People I know and trust. But this time it was different. I asked him why he thought that was, and he told me it was most likely an issue of timing. I've been here a little over three weeks, with only eight days left. I've been attending my home church and Sunday School. I preached the second Sunday we were here, and it was different than the past seven years of preaching under RICC.

I use the word "under" deliberately. Under a thumb. Under harsh scrutiny. Under surveillance. I always felt exhausted after preaching there: wrung out, like a sponge. I thought that that was normal for preaching, because it was. It was my normal. But when I preached at Leavenworth First Christian Church, it left me energized! Before I had thought that it made sense: it is important work, and we should be focused on it, and it should be much more than a lecture in a classroom, so of course it should be tiring. 

But preaching here, it was like a conversation with the congregation about God! I watched the video, and my delivery was far from perfect. I stumbled over phrases, got some bits wrong, messed up the accents, and drank water like a marathon runner. But it connected, and maybe that wasn't in spite of the imperfections. Maybe it worked because I could let the imperfections happen!

At RICC I always felt that I was on trial while preaching, with a focus on making no mistakes, on having correct theology above all else. I was required to submit every single one of my 18 sermon manuscripts four or five days before delivering them. I received nit-picky, controlling feedback and had errors pointed out that I would never, ever have dared to point out in their preaching. Because at RICC if you are not a top dog, you keep in your damn place.

(That's it, Firebrand. You get one paragraph, that's all. Now go get a drink of water and calm down.)

(I actually did go get a drink of water! But two days later Firebrand convinced me to add the following example paragraph.)

My first sermon at RICC, back in 2017, was on Ephesians 4:7-10 (That's a link to the Roblog post, which includes a YouTube link. I'm guessing that once the current leadership reads this, they will take down all of my other sermons, but this one is on my personal account, so it stays.) Behind the scene is a story that I have not shared with many people, because I did not want to reflect poorly on my church. I do not tell this story now with the intention of making them look bad, but to illustrate some of the differences in how we thought about and did church. 

I was assigned the scripture six weeks in advance of the sermon, I workshopped it heavily with Rick for part of that time, and sent it to elder J on Tuesday of that week. (I tried to send it on Monday, but forgot to attach the file.) As I wrote this, I was not sure of the timing of the whole incident, so I went back into my email and looked up the exchange with elder J. Reading those emails again got Firebrand on his feet and ready to burn something down again.

I'm done with it. I let Firebrand take his shot, The Joker came in and made me laugh, and Bridge Builder is ready to work on something new. 

Encyclopedia Sack, however, is much like his namesake, Encyclopedia Brown. They don't rest until they have answers to their questions. And the question was, "Why was it so hard for me to let go of RICC?" (Remember? The first paragraph?) Here are the pieces of the answer that I have. They may not satisfy you, but as I write this (over the course of weeks), I find that I actually am satisfied.

1. My parents are still working at First Christian Church, where I grew up. Not working as in paid to work, but working to further the Kingdom of God through that church. They have had frustrations aplenty over the years, been through conflicts, members coming and going, a number of pastors, joys and sorrows. They are at the stage where they see more funerals than births, and they are becoming the literal elders of the church, as well as holding the title of elder (both of them! Female elder! Cue pearl clutching!) off and on over the years. They never gave up. I didn't want to give up, either. My father's motto is, "If you see something that needs to be done, call attention to it and then get started on it, whether or not anyone is working with you." (Hmm... Now that I think about it, that's kind of long for a motto. And yet, "Git 'er done" feels too short. Maybe he doesn't have a motto.) That's how I have always approached church, and I saw RICC as a church that needed a lot of work. 

1B. The Disciples of Christ  (the denomination of FCC Leavenworth) was created with the intention of ending denominations. The founders sincerely hoped that all Christians could come together to worship, maybe even becoming an ecumenical body of all people worshipping God. I like this goal, even though it does not seem humanly possible. 

2. Sunken cost fallacy. That's the one where after you have invested a lot of your time or other resources into something, you are reluctant to abandon it. I've known about this fallacy for years, and yet it was a huge influence in this major life decision, keeping me at RICC longer than I should have stayed.

3. Bridge Builder. That guy worked his figurative butt off. Took any acceptance of what I offered as a sign that they were starting to see things my way. Or that they would be open to my point of view at some time. Bridge Builder didn't realize that you can't build a bridge to people who are busy building walls.

4. Common Ground. RICC has some roots that I really respect. Their dedication to outreach, to supporting the Women's Hope Center (a home for pregnant women with no place to go), Remember Nhu (a group working to end sex trafficking in Southeast Asia), and Zeteo Missions (an orphanage in another Asian country that is not friendly to such organizations). A large part of RICC's budget goes right out into the world to do good. 

5. There are a lot of good people at RICC. People I enjoy being with, talking with, praying with, and serving with. At Leavenworth FCC I grew up singing, "The Church is not a building, the Church is not a steeple, the Church is not a resting place, the Church is the PEOPLE!" (emphasis mine). 

And of those people, some have always been children. Including mine. I laid low to protect my kids from the shame of being rejected. It was hard to let that habit go, even long after they moved to the Korean church where their grandparents have always gone.

Before my children left RICC (because there were no kids their age), there was a big crowd of kids, many of whom were in the family of the pastor and elders. Statistically speaking, when you have enough people, some of them grow up to find out that they are not heterosexual. The message coming out of RICC's pulpit with regards to homosexuality was not quite "abomination," but it was the kind of voice that drives people out of churches. And that's the best case scenario.

At worst, that attitude leads to conversion therapy, self-denial, self-harm, and suicide. If you haven't heard of conversion therapy, it is basically mentally and emotionally torturing homosexuals until they "pray the gay away." RICC never called for that step, or even endorsed it. We just alienated anyone with homosexual tendencies who walked through the door.

I imagined one of those children growing up to find that they didn't fit the mold that their parents, elders, and larger community insisted upon. I have heard far too many stories of the gay boy who jumps out of the 15th story window to escape his family and church. Of the gay girl who ends up living on the street. Of people who later in life must un-learn to hate themselves for who they are. I thought that maybe I could be the one voice in the crowd saying, "It's okay, God made you and God loves you, and I love you, too. We'll get through this together." BB loves movies like "Luca" from Pixar, where the kid who is different doesn't end up as a bloody smear on the street. (Spoiler alert, sort of? That the title character doesn't get stoned by a mob at the end is sort of a spoiler, I guess?)

It breaks my heart that I can't play that role as part of RICC. It twinges (not wracks) me with guilt that I never discussed that role with the leadership. It rouses Firebrand, but he's ready to move on, and knows that you need fire to build something strong.

6. Another character in Rob's Gallery played a part. I haven't introduce him in How to Leave a Church Part 2 or here, though you may have noticed him skulking around just off stage.

No one wants to talk about their Shame. Shame is quick to point out what everyone else is saying and doing. Shame is often found in the shadow of Imposter Syndrome, or in his pocket, or in the oily lies that he tells me.

Not shame at my thoughts or feelings, but shame at how I failed to act. How I failed to stand up for those who had less power than I did. I did not want the shame of being singled out as a heretic in this adopted family that RICC had become. 

7. Momentum and comfort always play a part in life. My life, anyway. I was comfortable at RICC, despite my issues. I was already serving and living with that community, and changing is HARD, y'all! I really wanted them to be more awesome! I really wanted them to be more accepting! I really wanted them to be more like Jesus! And I really didn't want to start over somewhere else.

As you can see from the date early in this post, it was four months in the making. Most of this one had a good chance to marinate, and I've rewritten bits of it three or four times. The last part, number 7, I added just now. If it feels a little unripe, that's because it's as green as can be. Fresh from my mind to whatever historical record the Roblog is.

Spring 2023 Update

 It is June 11th, 2023, and the last few months have been very eventful. I have neglected Roblog to the point that child health care services is starting to breath down my neck. I will try to hit the major points of the first half of 2023 in a single paragraph each, in the hopes that this unclogs my brain, freeing up the old pipes to unleash my wit (or whatever) on the page.

I took the kids to Kansas for 5 weeks, mid-January to mid-February. It was not quite long enough, but circumstances squeezed the trip at both ends. In the past, I've been ready to return to Korea, but this time I was not. I treasured the time spent with my parents in a way that I haven't before, in part because I am more aware of how old they are. It is a natural part of the arc of life to outlive one's parents, much preferable to the alternative. But that does not make it easy to contemplate. I am fortunate that they are both active, and in good health for people pushing 80. I am proud of the work they do in the church and community, from the homeless shelter to the prison to the library to a thousand little construction projects over the years. (It might sound like an exaggeration, but if my father has done fewer than a thousand projects, I would be surprised.)

Also on the trip Maxine and I started to seriously consider the idea of her moving to America on her own at some point. We visited the Kansas City Kansas Community College (KCKCC) campus in Leavenworth, and she actually found it inviting and maybe even a little appealing. The teachers and admins we met were also very friendly, and the facility itself looks like a great place to learn.

Horyon returned to work in February of this year, after a year and three months of medical leave. It has been a difficult transition, in part because she is now the 4th oldest teacher out of 25 in the school. She had been a homeroom teacher for many years, and now she is not. Her list of duties and responsibilities is shorter, and she doesn't have to stay into the evening more than a couple of times a month, rather than three or four times a week. But the pay is lower, and she feels less relevant. 

We are still reeling financially, so I asked for and received overtime this semester. I went from teaching 12 hours per week to 18, and discovered that I am no longer as young as I once was. I pour a lot of myself into my teaching, interacting with students and encouraging them both individually and as entire classes. I dislike grading, both the process and the idea of it, though I understand the need. Soon I will be administering final exams, then putting numbers on a screen which tell students how much they are worth. Ugh.

Maxine is absorbed in being a high school senior. Her school does a pair of big projects for their senior year: a drama that the class produces, and individual presentations on topics of their choice. This has taken a lot of her attention, and having a steady boyfriend (her 2nd, more than a year now!) and a tight circle of friends means that we don't see her much at home.

Quinten is in 8th grade, so the last year of middle school. They also do a set of projects like the seniors, only smaller. They did their individual presentations a couple of weeks ago, which had him staying up late at night and seriously stressing out. He did a fantastic job, and his presentation was clearly the best of the six students in his class. I know this, even though I do not understand Korean well enough to follow any of them, and was starting to sink under the first waves of Covid on that day. Quinten is getting tall, and may soon be taller than me. It will be nice to have someone else who can get stuff off the top shelf.

Yes, I finally got Covid. I managed to be quarantined during literally the last week that Korea was quarantining people with Covid. I never had much of a fever, and only a mild cough, but damn it made me tired. For about three days I could barely concentrate. Standing up to go the bathroom wiped me out, and I was sleeping for 12 hours a day. I am three weeks out, and still find myself making more mistakes than usual, thinking more slowly than I am used to, and unable to make thematically and structurally consistent lists of three that do not rely on a third point that is basically a synthesis of the first two.

I've played two concerts this semester, and been sick three times, including the covid. I both love my job and wish that I didn't have to spend so much time on it. I've watched too much Netflix for my own good, and spend too much time sitting in front of my computer. I haven't been on my bike in a very long time, and am afraid to get back on, knowing how much it will hurt. I don't think I have been out for a ride since Horyon was diagnosed with breast cancer in October of 2021. Maybe I just didn't want to do anything risky. Honestly, I'm not sure that I had a motive for not doing it. Laziness is usually sufficient motive for me to avoid damn near anything.

I have started to let myself become a part of the church I've been going to. My long-time friend Rick is now the pastor there, which helps. It has taken me a long time to pull back from cursing the very idea of church to wanting to be a part of it again. I have a better understanding of people who never make the return. And just a few days ago I had a new RICC-related experience: I started to mourn the loss of it. Reading from Psalm 124, 

"If the LORD had not been on our side when people attacked us,

they would have swallowed us alive when their anger flared against us, 

the flood would have engulfed us, the torrent would have swept over us, 

the raging waters would have swept us away."

I read it and in my heart I heard, "my anger would have swallowed me alive, and I would have invited in the raging waters, looking forward to being swept away." And something broke inside, and I cried. And they were my first tears for RICC since I was invited to take my talents elsewhere. 

I was surprised at how good it felt to be sad about it, rather than angry. I believe that it is the beginning of mourning for RICC, and my loss of it. It is messy emotion that these words do not work, they don't show the truth of it, because I don't know exactly what it is that I am mourning. But I will dwell in it, and I am grateful for it. 

There is more to this semester, but much of it escapes my addled brain at this late hour. It is just after one a.m., and I have spent less than an hour and a half writing this. Usually I would set aside a Roblog piece for a day or two, then reread, maybe run it past someone else. But this one is going out raw.