"I Hate This Church"

This past Wednesday was our last day in Austin for the year. INTRSCT is taking two weeks off from the site to give us a break, and also give the kids more time at home for the Holidays.

It was hard to leave the kids, young and old. I knew it would be when Shantonia came up to me, after we announced we’d be gone for two weeks, wrapped her arms around me saying, “I’m sure gonna miss you,” as her eyes penetrated mine.

It was the first time I had received any love or affection back from the kids. For me, I wanted to stay at that moment. I didn’t want a two-week break, which looked extremely appealing beforehand. I wanted to remain with Shantonia, I wanted to remain with those kids.

In celebration of Christmas we gathered the kids together and told them about the true meaning of Christmas. When we first asked them what Christmas meant, we got several responses, none having to do with Jesus. Several of the students yelled, “money!” and were upset the cards we gave had only a Bible verse and writing.

Occasionally we have to kick students out for the day. In reality, we should kick most of them out each day for their behavior, but in trying to love them and teach grace, I find there being constant tension with how I should respond to things.

Montay, a seven-year-old who thinks he's going on eighteen, was completely out of control Wednesday, nothing unusual for him. After doing a multitude of insensitive things, Montay was told to go home.

We try to walk the kids home when the after school program ends each day. It’s not safe for them to be out on the street after dark, but then we are, so, I guess it’s a “God protect me” walk back some nights.

As Montay gathered his book bag and coat, I willingly volunteered to walk him home.

He didn’t say much of anything on that walk until we were nearly to his house. “I hate this church, I hate ya’ll” “You do?” I asked. “Yeah I do!!” he said with as much authority a seven year old can have in anger. “That’s a shame,” I replied. “We all love having you around and spending time with you.” “Yeah right!!” he shouted. “How come you kick me out and not the big kids?” “Montay, Montay,” I said with as much gentleness I could muster, “You think we like the big kids better because we don’t kick them out?” “Yeah!!” he snarled back.

I went on trying to explain that the bigger kids have different rules and “usually” behave better. As I spoke he seemed very disinterested looking everywhere but at me. I finally said, “Montay, when your older, you’ll have the same rules they do, but for now you have to follow the rules we have and respect others.”

Then Montay responded, “You won’t be here when I’m older.” I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing truthful could come out. I couldn’t tell him I would, because I certainly don’t know. If I would and then I left, I’d lose his trust and so would others whom try to gain it.

This summer, when INTRSCT first arrived in Austin, the neighborhood certainly didn’t celebrate our arrival; in fact, many families were more upset than anything we were there. Our site leader, Zack, told me about a parent who confronted him this summer. She didn’t want him here, and was surely not going to let him care for her children.

Her main concern wasn’t so much that we were there, or that we were a Christian group. She was concerned that we'd walk into her neighborhood, do some “good” deeds, and walk out. Her response puzzled me at first, but now, now I think I get it.

I’m white, most of you who read this are white. We can’t hid it, look past it, try to forget about it, or even raise children in hope they do not look at color. It’s forever with us. It’s in our culture, our society, and our world.

What I hear Montay, and this mother saying, is “You’ve never cared, you’ve never stayed around, you’ve never done anything but give us, black people, false hope.” If you think about it, it’s pretty true. I’m not going to go into injustices that have been done to both blacks and whites, yet I think it’s important to wrestle with our views on any subculture. We don’t know them because we’ve never cared to get to know them, or at least that’s my story. A lot of what we think we know about “blacks” and “Mexicans” for example, is developed by media, or possibly an encounter you’ve had with someone from that culture or heritage.

Anyway, I have a child, most likely many children/adults, who think we won’t last. We’ll come in, give them hope, later to abandon them. I don’t want to do that. I want to see Montay grow up, I want to see him graduate from high school (a huge deal in that neighborhood), I want to see him go to college, which is unthinkable for many of them.

I issue a challenge: When’s the last time you intentionally got to know someone who maybe isn’t like you, I mean not like you in the sense of culture, race, world views, morals? When’s the last time you’ve ever gotten to know someone who is gay, looking at them as beloved by a creator, not a sinner. I’m a sinner; I’m unrighteous, yet you still talk to me. I challenge our beliefs, our misconceptions about others.

Prayer is scary, I don’t understand it most of the time, but pray for the opportunities. Jesus will rock your world if you ask him.