The "Overkill" Testimony
You know, there is something about youth ministry and interacting with high school kids that I absolutely love. I have a hard time handling middle school kids, but something about that high school age really makes those kids special. In their actions and even in their speech they want something to look up to. The job of the youth ministry leader is to stand on top of that role model mound, holding in front of their face a mirror tilted up diagonally so that one youth sees what everything is about.
One of the pastors at this retreat voiced an opinion of his regarding the nature of the testimonies shared during the retreat. It began as a suggestion, but through his repetitive statements and tone of voice it truly revealed itself as exceptional disdain towards the majority of testimonies he’s been hearing his entire life. To be blunt, he voiced that he was tired of constantly hearing the typical testimony of “I was once a drug dealer/prostitute and then I met Christ and I was saved” story. He referred to himself as someone who was raised in church and as a “good kid” found it difficult to relate to these testimonies shared. The girl the night before who shared her story of being raped as a teenager was sitting in the same room. There’s no doubt that she felt…awkward. There wasn’t much care for damage control in the words being said. Each day of the retreat, one volunteer was supposed to share their story and he more or less pleaded for someone who considered them self to have once been a “good kid” to share their more relatable experience.
Before I made a thought or judgment on anything relating to his issue, I first defined for myself what a testimony is. From what I understand, a testimony is a statement, often regarded like a story, of where our faith began; it is what we can recollect and were capable of recognizing during the time when God forced our hands open to accept Him. Fortunately for us, God is not only a just but also a creative God who has given each of us a different and interesting story. Despite this, our “stories” are not as important as the faith we receive. We should occupy ourselves with the relationship we have with God for today and be thankful that one day before today he chose us. More often than not, that story of our salvation reminds us of God’s love and sovereignty. However, we should not allow ourselves to be hung up in the dramatics of our salvation date or how intriguing it sounds coming off of our tongue to others because it can become a tool we use to put ourselves on a pedestal. This is ironic, right? God reveals our sin nature and humbles us so that we may follow, and we are still hungry for the taste of self-righteousness.
It may sound as if I completely veered off-course, but everything I just said points to this: our testimonies are what we know of our departure from darkness into light, from death into life. No matter what you do or what you’ve done, this will always be the biggest deal in the world for you underneath God and his gospel. In fact, it is the reason that you live and will continue to live the way that you do. Therefore, because of the intensity of this love/ransom story that people have, there comes a desire to change things, amplify things, amputate or elongate things in order to generate a “Wow!” response out of a listener similar to the “Wow!” response they have felt.
This is a terrible idea.
I see the intentions to make God look great (alongside making ourselves look great in an interesting, twisted, possibly sick way). To reach us where we were at, God revealed to us the gospel exactly how it was: no strings attached and no alterations. Likewise should be our testimony. There are probably many Christians who wouldn’t understand the point behind me writing so much about the idea of the testimony because they don’t share it. However I do and it is insulting to – through alterations and magnifications – say that God’s honest entrance into your life is not enough. I’m speaking from experience.
Three years ago if you asked me how I came to know God, we would seriously need to sit down for a dinner to explain everything. If you ask me now, I can tell you in five minutes. From Hollywood’s perspective, the first version is somewhat engaging and the second is quite bland and bare. From my heart’s perspective, the first version is incomplete and the second is a beautiful calling to the kingdom. Before the retreat started, my friend Moses asked me how I came to know Christ. On his way to sit down, Tim Shin said “Not this again! Just Kidding.” There’s a bible verse I keep close to myself and it goes like this: “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.” He had every reason to feel this way.
Four years ago I was invited to a summer getaway resort for high school kids of all beliefs, organized by a group of talented and organized evangelical Christians. During that time was when a speaker talked about the gospel for the whole week and during that week I got lost on some canoe and ended up stranded on an island with bears. With no hope left, someone (obviously someone mystically led by God Almighty) called a rescue team and the clever parallel between physically and spiritually being “once lost and now found!,” led Satchell Drakes to God. It was a wonderful story. The lesson I learned while I actually was stranded was ” Well, I’m not atheist after all!” I told this story with the intention of revealing.. I’m not sure what. The more I think about it, the more I don’t want to know the “what.” It was an elongated, very incomplete story of how Christ penetrated my heart. Getting lost on a canoe was indeed an interesting growing experience, but even today I feel like it had so little to do with my relationship with Christ. I didn’t see this until Young Life published my story in their national magazine and I read it to myself, dripping with glossy, cheesy, American sap at every sentence. It sounded like a script for a B-movie you would find at the bottom of a Family Christian Bookstores bargain bin.
The real story goes like this:
Brian Hall, a Christian and my Sociology teacher, was moved to make me his friend and disciple. He eventually invited me out to this getaway resort for people of all faiths, organized by Christians with their minds set on the great commission. The gospel was presented to me and by the grace of God I couldn’t resist. More than anything during the entire week, it was the camp volunteers I met that made me so confused. They were so happy to see me and serve me. Not even in a plastic way. They genuinely wanted to get to know me, lived real lives with real issues like mine, and had the time to treat people with this different kind of love that I’ve never seen before. I didn’t understand it, but I knew I wanted it. The love was so real and in abundance that I wanted whatever they had that was making them so different. I even wanted to selflessly give it to others. I used to struggle with constantly feeling unloved and unappreciated and I would do anything for 2 seconds of acknowledgement. With this love that I saw, I wanted to make sure that no high school kid would ever have to feel like he has to jump through all of the rings of fire that I did: that they were loved for some reason. At the end of the week I found out that the reason was Christ. This is why from day 1 I trained to go into youth ministry.
So why was that pastor half right? It sounds like I’m on his side completely. I’m not. I’ve learned something beautiful and it is that every testimony is beautiful. If in a building there only exists redemption songs of drug dealers and prostitutes, why stop the singing? Everyone’s redemption song contains the same lyrics: Jesus Christ. He was so right in paying attention to the fact that appropriation is so necessary and many of the students at the retreat aren’t drug dealers or prostitutes. I agree. People raised in church should share a story as well. However to make a point of some form, anyone’s disdain for testimonies of a “big”-sinner-turned-Christian nature is a stumbling block. We are mistaken for thinking that a sin that a drug dealer out on the street is committing is any less repulsive, rebellious, and deserving of repentance than a sin a church attendee commits off of the street in his own room. Then again, it is youth listening so it’s really stupid to say that they should be thinking that intellectually about it. But then agaaaain, I mean it’s a retreat and it is not revolving around the testimonies one bit. These kids are in small groups and for three days are surrounded by people in the exact same social, economic, and spiritual situation as them and it would also be a tough call to assume that everyone in the room considers themselves a “good kid.” When I was in the 6th grade I had 6th grader drug dealer friends and I’m not even from an urban town! I live in Teaneck! Come visit! It’s nicknamed Hebrew Hills because it’s Jewish and filthy rich. Maybe one kid needed to hear the drug dealer say it was a waste. I think I just wrote this so that I could have it organized somewhere and not think about it. I am now officially done looking far into insignificant details in leadership meetings.
One of the pastors at this retreat voiced an opinion of his regarding the nature of the testimonies shared during the retreat. It began as a suggestion, but through his repetitive statements and tone of voice it truly revealed itself as exceptional disdain towards the majority of testimonies he’s been hearing his entire life. To be blunt, he voiced that he was tired of constantly hearing the typical testimony of “I was once a drug dealer/prostitute and then I met Christ and I was saved” story. He referred to himself as someone who was raised in church and as a “good kid” found it difficult to relate to these testimonies shared. The girl the night before who shared her story of being raped as a teenager was sitting in the same room. There’s no doubt that she felt…awkward. There wasn’t much care for damage control in the words being said. Each day of the retreat, one volunteer was supposed to share their story and he more or less pleaded for someone who considered them self to have once been a “good kid” to share their more relatable experience.
Before I made a thought or judgment on anything relating to his issue, I first defined for myself what a testimony is. From what I understand, a testimony is a statement, often regarded like a story, of where our faith began; it is what we can recollect and were capable of recognizing during the time when God forced our hands open to accept Him. Fortunately for us, God is not only a just but also a creative God who has given each of us a different and interesting story. Despite this, our “stories” are not as important as the faith we receive. We should occupy ourselves with the relationship we have with God for today and be thankful that one day before today he chose us. More often than not, that story of our salvation reminds us of God’s love and sovereignty. However, we should not allow ourselves to be hung up in the dramatics of our salvation date or how intriguing it sounds coming off of our tongue to others because it can become a tool we use to put ourselves on a pedestal. This is ironic, right? God reveals our sin nature and humbles us so that we may follow, and we are still hungry for the taste of self-righteousness.
It may sound as if I completely veered off-course, but everything I just said points to this: our testimonies are what we know of our departure from darkness into light, from death into life. No matter what you do or what you’ve done, this will always be the biggest deal in the world for you underneath God and his gospel. In fact, it is the reason that you live and will continue to live the way that you do. Therefore, because of the intensity of this love/ransom story that people have, there comes a desire to change things, amplify things, amputate or elongate things in order to generate a “Wow!” response out of a listener similar to the “Wow!” response they have felt.
This is a terrible idea.
I see the intentions to make God look great (alongside making ourselves look great in an interesting, twisted, possibly sick way). To reach us where we were at, God revealed to us the gospel exactly how it was: no strings attached and no alterations. Likewise should be our testimony. There are probably many Christians who wouldn’t understand the point behind me writing so much about the idea of the testimony because they don’t share it. However I do and it is insulting to – through alterations and magnifications – say that God’s honest entrance into your life is not enough. I’m speaking from experience.
Three years ago if you asked me how I came to know God, we would seriously need to sit down for a dinner to explain everything. If you ask me now, I can tell you in five minutes. From Hollywood’s perspective, the first version is somewhat engaging and the second is quite bland and bare. From my heart’s perspective, the first version is incomplete and the second is a beautiful calling to the kingdom. Before the retreat started, my friend Moses asked me how I came to know Christ. On his way to sit down, Tim Shin said “Not this again! Just Kidding.” There’s a bible verse I keep close to myself and it goes like this: “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.” He had every reason to feel this way.
Four years ago I was invited to a summer getaway resort for high school kids of all beliefs, organized by a group of talented and organized evangelical Christians. During that time was when a speaker talked about the gospel for the whole week and during that week I got lost on some canoe and ended up stranded on an island with bears. With no hope left, someone (obviously someone mystically led by God Almighty) called a rescue team and the clever parallel between physically and spiritually being “once lost and now found!,” led Satchell Drakes to God. It was a wonderful story. The lesson I learned while I actually was stranded was ” Well, I’m not atheist after all!” I told this story with the intention of revealing.. I’m not sure what. The more I think about it, the more I don’t want to know the “what.” It was an elongated, very incomplete story of how Christ penetrated my heart. Getting lost on a canoe was indeed an interesting growing experience, but even today I feel like it had so little to do with my relationship with Christ. I didn’t see this until Young Life published my story in their national magazine and I read it to myself, dripping with glossy, cheesy, American sap at every sentence. It sounded like a script for a B-movie you would find at the bottom of a Family Christian Bookstores bargain bin.
The real story goes like this:
Brian Hall, a Christian and my Sociology teacher, was moved to make me his friend and disciple. He eventually invited me out to this getaway resort for people of all faiths, organized by Christians with their minds set on the great commission. The gospel was presented to me and by the grace of God I couldn’t resist. More than anything during the entire week, it was the camp volunteers I met that made me so confused. They were so happy to see me and serve me. Not even in a plastic way. They genuinely wanted to get to know me, lived real lives with real issues like mine, and had the time to treat people with this different kind of love that I’ve never seen before. I didn’t understand it, but I knew I wanted it. The love was so real and in abundance that I wanted whatever they had that was making them so different. I even wanted to selflessly give it to others. I used to struggle with constantly feeling unloved and unappreciated and I would do anything for 2 seconds of acknowledgement. With this love that I saw, I wanted to make sure that no high school kid would ever have to feel like he has to jump through all of the rings of fire that I did: that they were loved for some reason. At the end of the week I found out that the reason was Christ. This is why from day 1 I trained to go into youth ministry.
So why was that pastor half right? It sounds like I’m on his side completely. I’m not. I’ve learned something beautiful and it is that every testimony is beautiful. If in a building there only exists redemption songs of drug dealers and prostitutes, why stop the singing? Everyone’s redemption song contains the same lyrics: Jesus Christ. He was so right in paying attention to the fact that appropriation is so necessary and many of the students at the retreat aren’t drug dealers or prostitutes. I agree. People raised in church should share a story as well. However to make a point of some form, anyone’s disdain for testimonies of a “big”-sinner-turned-Christian nature is a stumbling block. We are mistaken for thinking that a sin that a drug dealer out on the street is committing is any less repulsive, rebellious, and deserving of repentance than a sin a church attendee commits off of the street in his own room. Then again, it is youth listening so it’s really stupid to say that they should be thinking that intellectually about it. But then agaaaain, I mean it’s a retreat and it is not revolving around the testimonies one bit. These kids are in small groups and for three days are surrounded by people in the exact same social, economic, and spiritual situation as them and it would also be a tough call to assume that everyone in the room considers themselves a “good kid.” When I was in the 6th grade I had 6th grader drug dealer friends and I’m not even from an urban town! I live in Teaneck! Come visit! It’s nicknamed Hebrew Hills because it’s Jewish and filthy rich. Maybe one kid needed to hear the drug dealer say it was a waste. I think I just wrote this so that I could have it organized somewhere and not think about it. I am now officially done looking far into insignificant details in leadership meetings.
posted by Satchell Drakes at
2:24 PM
1 Comments:
I understand the frustration, bro. I appreciate your struggle through the issue. :o)
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home