have a right to be there. There's a constant worry in the back of my mind that others will be wondering who invited me. Can't really tell you why I have that feeling, to be honest. And most times I know it's not a reasonable feeling to have. But it's always there in the back of my mind eating away at my confidence and self-esteem.
Just as it looked like Herbie was about to leave, an older man entered behind him and slapped a firm hand on his shoulder. "Evening!" he said. "Good to have you here. Have a seat." As he walked toward the podium, he called to the rest of the teenagers. "Gather around everyone! Let's all take our seats."
Now that he'd been seen, Herbie couldn't just walk out. Sticking to his plan of staying out of people's targeting scope, he took the seat at the end of the rear row. It was closest to the doors. The others started sitting down as well, but to Herbie's dismay, not one of them said hello or introduced themselves. None of them waved or even looked at him. It was as though he didn't exist.
"Good evening, everyone!" the man at the podium said. "Looks like we've got two newcomers today, so let me introduce myself. I'm Pastor Eric. I'm the youth pastor here at New Oaks Church. We like to get to know our members personally here, so why don't you both introduce yourself? We'll start with you." He said, pointing to a slender male in the second row.
"Well, I'm Bobby, and I—"
"Bobby, why don't you stand up?" Pastor Eric interrupted. "That way everyone can see you."
So much for staying out of the targeting scopes. I could already see Herbie fidgeting in his chair. This was not starting out well.
Bobby stood up and waved. "I'm Bobby," he said again, "and I'm from Cherry Wood High School." That was in a neighboring county. "I play basketball and football and I'm told I'm one hell of a ladies' man." He straightened his shirt as he said that as though he actually meant it. I later found out that he really did.
"Oh boy, look out girls!" Pastor Eric said, pointing at some of the different ladies in the group. Scattered laughs rolled through the teens. Eric then turned his eyes to Herbie. "And what about you?"
Back then, I thought I hid my nervousness well. But watching Herbie stand up, he may as well have had a neon sign around his neck that flashed the words "I'M NERVOUS!"
"Hi, I'm Herbert. I was just hoping to make some friends and learn more about Jesus."
Silence. No one looked at him. No one said anything. Without exaggeration, you could hear Herbie's heart pounding. The agonizing lack of reaction went on for at least five seconds before Pastor Eric finally spoke. If that doesn't seem like a long time, try counting five real-time seconds before replying the next time you have a conversation with someone. In a high-anxiety situation, it's a lifetime.
"Okay, well it's great to have you here, Herbert."
For the next ten minutes, Eric went over announcements regarding future events and some recent contests. He didn't bother to explain any of these things to the newcomers or invite them to join in on the activities. Some inside jokes were made, a few interactions took place between different teens, but no one included Herbie. It was very . . . alienating.
Following that, Pastor Eric dismissed everyone to social hour. Social hour was basically an hour of free time. Some chatted, some played games, some danced to music in the back of the room. The whole thing, obviously, was meant as a chance for the teens to get to know one another in an environment other than school.
Herbie sat there at first, clearly unsure of what to do as everyone got up and spread across the room. Then he stood and looked around for a few minutes before approaching a group at the table. They seemed to be setting up some kind of card game that Herbie didn't recognize. He pulled up a chair, but there was no space for him. Sure, if everyone had shifted their chairs down a bit, he would've been able to fit in, but no one took the initiative. So he sat behind two of the boys, not right in front of the table but not completely out of reach either. Still, no one noted his presence.
"Why didn't you speak up?" Doc whispered. "They don't even seem to know you're there."
"Precisely why I didn't speak up," I responded. "No one even looked at me. I felt like such an outsider. It was difficult for me to speak up when I felt so unwanted."
The kids were laughing and joking with each other as the cards were dealt. Herbie tried to laugh along with some of the remarks being made. He tried to let his guard down and find a way to fit in. But no one dealt him any cards. Once again, he was the outsider. Could he have done more to be a part of the group? Maybe. But to be honest, it's incredibly hard for someone with a bleeding heart to offer it up on a platter.
For the most part, the game was relatively uneventful. No one bothered to explain the rules so that Herbie could follow along. They just went through hand after hand, laughing and joking and having a good time. After about twenty minutes, however, the conversation took a turn I would not have expected from a group of Christians.
"You think you got a chance?" one of the kids was saying, picking up his cards. "I hope you've been practicing!" He was looking at the dealer.
"He ain't got time to practice," someone else said. "He's too busy hanging out with his boyfriend!"
"Hey, hey, hey," the dealer held his hands up. "I may not be popular with the girls, but I'm no fag."
Herbie's fake smile vanished.
"I bet you've never even gotten a girl's shirt off," another boy taunted.
What?!
"I've gotten further than you have," he retorted.
"Not with Jenna, I bet!" the first said, pointing at the girl in the pink sweater.
She snorted. "That's for sure. Takes more than a burger and a movie to get my top off."
Herbie couldn't believe what he was hearing. I know; I remember. Even if I didn't, the look on his face told the story. These kids were Christians? They were vulgar, crude, and even prejudiced. This was how the God-loving behaved? They weren't all that different from his classmates. I realize they were still kids, but I had hoped I'd find a cleaner atmosphere here.
The conversation continued in that manner for another twenty minutes or so before Pastor Eric returned for a brief sermon. However, rather than uplifting and encouraging and empowering everyone, he spent most of the time practically yelling about the differences between biblical Christians and present day Christians. Jesus said that faith as small as the mustard seed could move mountains. Yet no such things happen in the modern world. It was Eric's contention that the miracles performed by the disciples in Christ's day don't happen anymore because humanity's faith is now but a fraction of what it was back then. It was an interesting subject, but Eric's delivery was full of anger and frustration. He didn't encourage good works and strong faith. He made me feel bad about myself. He made me feel like I failed God. Like I was spitting in the face of Jesus and His sacrifice. It was quite a depressing lesson.
Then came the after-sermon reminders. Apparently, the majority of the group's members were scheduled to take part in a few skits during an upcoming Sunday service. The plan was to use present-day analogies to show how we should and should not react to people in the world around us. The topic interested me, but not for participation purposes. I wanted to know how to act. How to respond when they treated me harshly. How to forgive people who shoved my head into lockers daily.
Again, the conversation took a very disconcerting turn. One scene had been planned to show us how to handle people who don't share the Christian lifestyle. In it, one of the teens was to portray a gay character. Pastor Eric made a big deal about playing the part with excessive flamboyance, using several clichés generally applied to homosexuals. It was one thing to hear the kids use a word like "fag" to describe gay people. That was bad enough. But to hear a youth group leader—a pastor!!—use stereotypes to generalize homosexuals was unfathomable.
On that subject, I feel the need to say something. Yes, Christians believe that homosexuality is a sin as written in the
Bible. Does that mean we have the right to hate, abuse, exclude, or attack people who take part in that lifestyle?
Absolutely not.
It blows my mind that churches and youth groups and other religious organizations would have the audacity to treat gay people in this manner. No one is perfect. That is stated and demonstrated quite clearly in the Bible. And while the Bible states that the homosexual lifestyle is sinful, we should not under any circumstances place ourselves above them simply because we don't take part in that particular sin. We have all sinned. Lying, cheating, stealing, lusting, pride, arrogance, hate—everyone struggles with these things on a daily basis. Jesus came for the sinners. They're the ones that he dined with. They're the ones he traveled with. They're the ones he taught. To treat them as second-class citizens is downright shameful and hypocritical.
One more thing. I know homosexuals are often insulted by the fact that Christians believe they are living sinful lifestyles. I am very sorry. But at the same time, we are entitled to our own beliefs. The same freedom that allows us to hold that belief also allows you to hold yours. We need to learn to agree to disagree. Both sides.
Okay, back to today's entry.
Herbie left that first night of youth group a bit depressed. There were a lot of things that were nothing like what he'd imagined, and a number of