A Preacher's Confession

REAL LIFE IN THE REAL WORLD

by Neil Brown

“For though I would desire to glory, I shall not be a fool; for I will say the truth: but now I forbear, lest any man should think of me above that which he seeth me to be, or that he heareth of me. And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.  —2 Corinthians 2:6-10

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Insecurity

I only recently discovered that people were really reading this stuff up here. I had no idea that I was having any sort of impact at all until people started telling me that they enjoyed the essays. It's not easy opening old wounds that you thought you were done with. But, this series needed to find a voice and a place of expression. And while I have been purging and talking and confessing, I really do feel like I've done a service to the community that I serve by putting a face to the “issues” that do surround preachers.

People really don't think I should be exposing myself in this way. It's almost like I'm telling people that it's okay to be angry. And in a way, I am. But I also am discussing the hurt, the pain, and the frustration that came with it. I was angry about being hurt and overlooked when I was a member in good standing. I didn't think I received fair treatment, and was put into a stereotype of sorts that all minister are only after what they can get from churches. But, if that were true, I could've gotten stuff a long time ago. It's easy to preach it to others, but, actually thinking good things about yourself is not so easy. I have to work on keeping good thoughts about myself and good feelings about myself on a regular basis. I have to tell myself good things about me everyday. Especially after a bad day at work or at the church even. Most days are better than others, but sometimes, I lose the struggle and it's difficult to come out of it. But somehow the Lord has made a way, and continues to do so.

I used to think that preachers were the craziest people on Earth, until I became one. Why do you constantly keep praying and ministering and preaching and hoping for people who really seem like they don't want to be bothered? And when God called me to the ministry, that's exactly what I asked Him, “...Why?” Why can't somebody else go? Why can't you use Brother Over There who needs the call more than I do? Why can't You use Sister That Everybody Loves? “Because, I want you", He said. You have unique giftings and abilities that will be an asset to me in the very near future. That was January 1994. By July of that year, I was sitting in a service at New Life Church of all places when He spoke to me again at the altar call that evening.

All He said was, “Your time is drawing near, get ready for work.” And suddenly, the Word of God opened up to me like never before. I began hearing preaching and teaching in my own voice, but I didn't want to do it, and I sho'nuff didn't want to hear it.

But, soon, God began to get on my nerves. It was kind of like that movie, “Ghost” when the Patrick Swayze character began singing “Henry the Eighth” over and over to get Whoopi to help him with his mission once he realized that he had been murdered. That's what God was doing to me, murdering my will so that His could become a reality in my life. And in November, I stopped struggling and yielded. One of the best things I ever did.

But I remember thinking how awesome a task was now before me. To not only live the Gospel, but to also carry the Gospel. And I began to understand that in order for me to carry the gospel, I had to live it. I knew that I couldn't just put my hand on the plow and if it didn't work go back. Once I said yes, I knew it was for the rest of my life.

I hate to admit it, but I struggle.

I struggle with self-esteem. I continually feel that I am not good enough. I regularly feel like I'm damaged goods. Like at the grocery store when you see a canned good, you pick it up and realize that it has all of those dents in it. That stuff that you only see when you take a closer look. And because it has flaws, you put it back on the shelf. Why do we put it back on the shelf? Is it because we feel like the stuff inside the can is damaged also? That, because the can has blemishes, it affects what's inside? Isn't what's inside still good? Could it be that the damaged metal exterior on the outside just protected the stuff on the inside? This sounds crazy, but that how I feel sometimes, like the damaged can.
Have I been hurt? Yes.

Have I felt tormented by my own personal demons? Yes.

Do I feel like people are taking a closer look at me? Yes.

Do I feel like I should keep people back so that they won't be exposed to my frailties? Yes.

My greatest pains happened to me in church. You are reading this right, my greatest pains happened to me in church. Among like-minded people, spiritual people, people with damage of their own. It happened to me in the safe haven of church.

I wonder why people often hold me to a greater level of responsibility in this walk, when we all have to walk? I wonder why people get disappointed in me when I don't live to certain expectations. After all, whose expectations am I supposed to meet— theirs or God's? And when I become disappointed in them, why do they act like they're, “Only human,” and that they're supposed to mess up? Very confusing sometimes...

I want people to understand that the way of the Christian walk is not not a social one for Sunday afternoon tea, but, rather that it is a lifestyle. It is not a hobby, as a friend repeatedly tells me. When you see me at Wal-Mart, I'm in lifestyle. When you see me at the movies, I'm in lifestyle. When you see me buying groceries, I'm in lifestyle. When you see me at church during the week, I'm in lifestyle. When you see me shout in the Spirit in worship service, I'm thankful for my lifestyle because I know I'm not changing it for you or anybody else.

And, even though I struggle, I am learning how to be completely content in all my present situations. For greater is He that is in me, than He that is in the world.

Privacy

The thing that really disturbs me is the fact the people won't leave it alone. I know for a fact that people are discussing my love life and wondering why I'm not dating. Sister So and So would really compliment him and a good wife. You think he's... Oh No! He couldn't be, not the reverend! You think? Rumor has it that Choir Directors are usually. Shocking isn't it? But I get all of that! Here's what I've dying to tell church folk: MY LOVE LIFE JUST AIN'T YOUR BUSINESS!!!!!!!!! Let me talk about your love life or something else terribly private to you. I mean, is there nothing that you will not talk about? Everything else I have talked about or preached about. My love life and my bedroom is just off limits to you. (You will note the period at the end of the sentence, for it also metaphorically means period!). I am single. Never been married. Ain't trying to rush into it either. I know that scares some of you to know that there is a minister with no wife about town and all these single good lookin' young ladies! But I also know how to protect myself. NO ONE can point to, look back on, or drum up a scandal on me and young ladies with shady behavior. Don't test me, I know my reputation. So for those of you who don't know me real well, let me help you:

I do not date within the congregation. The church is not a candy store to me. I do not look for different flavors, or new additions to the existing line. And if, in the event there is a young lady that catches my eye and peaks my interest, I have enough sense to speak with my Pastor about it. Because not only do I understand accountability, but he doesn't need things to get out of hand either for his own credibility. I'm not jacking my Pastor up either. So know now, I talk to the pastor first, that means before I approach the young lady.

It's too easy for dating to affect my ability to minister in my church or anywhere else when things get “high school”. I'm not in high school anymore, I graduated. There is not a time that you will find me alone with a young lady unless I'm on a date. That does not mean that I'm going to make phone calls for potential chaperones. I know how to treat a lady. How often I date, ain't your business! But I will tell you that it is not often. But that should not matter you, it's not you dating.

Please don't take this to be some angry rant, it's not. I'm a preacher, I'm just confessing what most of us won't. I'm not angry about this, but please, my love life?? Read the Song of Solomon or catch a soap opera.

What soured me? I got hurt in a very public way, in a very public relationship that never existed. She thought one thing, I thought another. I thought I was clear. I wasn't. The result, embarrassment, hurt feelings, and the loss of a friend. We speak, but not like we used to. And that pains me. I'm not saying that I'm the good guy. I don't have to be the hero of the story. The reality is that once I knew there was a fondness, I should've acted more proactively to protect myself, to protect my ministry and to protect her. I didn't do that. I vowed that it would never happen again.

So that's my confession. I do date, but it ain't your business. I love you, but it ain't your business. I will pray for you, but it ain't your business. I want to see you blessed, but it ain't your business. You can ask, and I may or may not tell you, because now I know that you understand, it ain't your business.

Anger

“We just don't do car repair.” That’s what I was told over the summer. And you want to talk about angry. I had to remember, “Be angry, but sin not”. And it was tough. I believe that anger comes from not being acknowledged in some form or other. And maybe that’s why I found myself irritated. But let me take you back into the summer of trials and tribs. Now, I have lived on my own for a few years now. And admittedly, I was “concerned” about whether or not I could do it all on my own. Rent, groceries, car insurance, utilities, I mean handling everything on my own. Colorado is not a cheap state to live in on your own, we very expensive. I guess you've got to pay to live here underneath the mountains and stuff, and I have to say that I have done ok. But 2003, has not been a great year for me.

After the blue “hoopdy” died in June, everything spiraled out of control. So a friend helped me out with car to drive for a week. And then another friend gave me a car that they were not using. Yes, I did say gave (Praise God in the key of A flat…let me have 17 seconds). Now, I drove that SUV for less than a month and it died. The thing vomited its guts out from the inside of the transmission. Well, by this time, I have depleted my “rainy day” stash of cash between 2 cars that have died on me in less than a month! Well the second was towed to a guy that I trust up the street. He’s saved and straight forward with me and I like that trait in people. Understand that I’m hoping that he can help me with good news. Two days later, he has none. There’s nothing that he can do because his garage does not do transmissions. So you already know that this is expensive! And he recommends another place that could help me. Towing is free, diagnostic is free (another shout in half step higher please… 7 seconds).

Now, the problem is that I don’t have enough cash to pay for the entire repair, in fact I got none! So I agonize over doing the one thing that I said I would never do, ask my church for benevolence. I figured that I’m a member in good standing, I have never been this route ever, I’ve sent people who need help to my church to get what they need. So I endured the embarrassing questions about my finances and why I was so messed up.

Now understand, I have helped to hold to the choir together without a musician, was the youth minister without much support, taught Sunday School, helped with the youth bible study, been faithful to my place of worship, ya’ll. Tried to apply all my gifts everywhere I could. It took a few days for someone to reconnect with me and let me know that after a few years here at this church, “We just don’t do car repair”.

Now, are you ready for the icing on the cake, they offered to help me get a bus pass. And that’s when the room went dizzy and I began to feel unstable. My knees were buckling underneath me and real time warped into something very surrealistic. And all I could think of was, “You gotta be kidding me? Nothing at all, not a penny?” How do I get back and forth to work, when my hours vary from week to week? Ain’t got enough credit to obtain more transportation. No where to turn, no one else to call on, no options left.

“What do you do when living right don’t work?” That’s what Bishop Jakes said once in a sermon about silent frustration. I felt deserted, cold and alone. Because I could see saying no when you’ve come around one too many times. I could see no when you continue to ask for handouts. But, I didn’t ask for a handout, I asked for a hand up because I had no where else to go. I would have worked off the benevolence or paid it back. I was in a real jam, a real rock in a hard place. I went home that evening after being told no car repair, after choir rehearsal, and— I kid you not— cried like a baby over a bottle waiting for his mother to hold him and reassure him. I just broke, and then I got livid. I got pissed off and all I could do to release was scream and holla out loud. And even in telling you this, words cannot describe that night. I called a friend who understood because he too was having the summer of hell. But it worked to talked about it with someone because I had to muster up the strength to worship on Sunday.

And I got to church on Sunday and felt like everyone was looking at me and giggling behind my back. Sunday was a raw experience, I tried to worship, I tried to give praise, I tried to extol and come into the service with thanksgiving and enter the courts…but I felt angry. I went down to the altar call to have prayer. I had to get this off me. I didn’t want to be in service angry and defeated. Is this what Jesus felt like going into Passion week? Knowing that He was going to die, feeling betrayed and he still had no malice and no vengeful thoughts? I felt like, in a way, that I was being crucified. That my self-worth was under attack, that my faith was under attack, that my life had been put on trial and was sentenced to death. It was awful.

I’m still healing. It is a process, and it ain’t easy. God taught what the hymnist wrote, “Only what you do for Christ will last”. And putting my confidence in man, I was let down. No I don’t think that the hurt and the anger was intentional. I don’t think my church was trying to inflict emotional or spiritual harm on me on purpose. I suppose in a lot ways it must have hurt some of them too. Knowing that they would not help. But, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t really make me look at life.

I suppose, on some level, I felt like faithfulness should work a lot like Social Security. Years of devoted service, years of making it on my own, of not asking the church for anything, and never, not even once, receiving money or gifts from the church, should count for something. Should be bank for when it is my turn. When it is me standing in the need. But that is secular thinking. That is how the world works. The world repays kindness for kindness. We are, by contrast, commanded to love one another regardless of circumstance. Regardless of investment.

My pastor once incited a small riot in Bible study by suggesting that, as Christians, we are obligated to help those who need help. Regardless of their history. regardless of their circumstances. The Pastor made the argument that even if we know the seeker is not living up to our standards or God's standards, our obligation is to help if we can. We should not humiliate them or rob them of their dignity by putting them through an intense process. He specifically said, in Bible study, that we should not police what the seeker uses the money for. It is not our duty or our obligation to judge the seeker or examine the person in need. That's God's job, to deal with that person. Our job is to help if we can. I can only imagine he was directing this teaching at our trustees and church managers who make these kinds of decisions.

I think it is easier and more productive to help someone fix their car than risk them losing their job and therefore needing help on a much greater scope should homelessness ensue. I'm wounded and baffled by this process, by whatever logic the decision makers applied, and I question which Bible they're reading and question how this decision lines up with the Pastor's own teaching. Most of all, I'm saddened by the apparent fact that a total stranger could attain help from my church while I could not.

I know now why people do not turn to us for help...us church folk. We are not always a refuge for help, or a safe haven. We are not always easy to talk to. We are not always empathetic. We are not always going to display the fruits of the spirit. I’m still healing. My chest wounds have begun to scab over, slowly but surely. My self-esteem is returning and I suspect that it will be stronger than before.

My faith has been shaken, but it too will return deeper and more meaningful. For God has proven Himself faithful once more in my life. He’s helping me to put the pieces back together again so that I will have a clearer picture of who He is at this stage of my development. I feel better each day, but every once in a while I do like my Granny says, “Honey, I fell of my donkey, but I’ll ride again one day just as soon as my wounds heal and I dust myself off.”

Ageism

I had finished preaching and was at the back of the church with my mother in a receiving line with the membership telling me how much they had enjoyed the sermon on that particular Communion Sunday. One of the mothers approached me to encourage me. She said some wonderful things that had spoken directly to my heart, but then an unusual turn of events took place: she asked me my age.

At that time I was 28. At that time, I was still somewhat new to my present church, and was still getting to know names and faces. It took my by surprise to discover that my age was so important. She was in shock that a young man “my age” could deliver a passionate and authoritative message to the church body.

I had never given it a second thought. I never realized that church folks all over town had been seeing me this way. And I suppose that at one point or another it has become a detriment and an advantage. I am 32 but I look like I'm probably 25. One of the ladies on my job guessed that I was 22 which made me blink 132 times and shake my head in complete disbelief.

I find it amazing that we still equate age with wisdom. I'm not discounting elders, for I enjoy senior citizens. They have a richer and fuller understanding of history because, for them, history was an experience. Books can never tell me what experience has lived. But, even with all of that, I believe that I have some degree of wisdom at “my age”.

I will tell you it makes it more difficult to deal with people who feel that I'm too young for the work of God. I was called to the ministry when I was 23, and people were happy for me, but they were more consumed with what I could do for the “young people".

What about the elders? Why is there a feeling that someone “my age” has nothing to say to an older generation? Paul told Timothy to let no man despite your youth, but rather told to be an example and to rely on what he had been taught. Paul told him to have some stick-to-it-and-persevere attitude. But as a young man in the ministry, it must admit that it is discouraging to think, to know, and to experience discriminatory attitudes in the church regarding how old I am. I have to work harder to get my ideas across. I have to study twice as much and twice as hard to achieve understanding of scripture and figure out the best way to teach it.

My mission in life is to destroy the myth that young people have nothing to say and nothing to contribute to the body of Christ until after they've lived awhile. I have had some trials and tribulations that I wouldn't wish on anybody no matter what your age. I'm a firm believer that my experiences serve as a ministering opportunity. I'm a firm believer that we can learn from one another, and age has nothing to do with that. I cannot think any less of you or any better of you because of your birth year. The brevity and certainty of life has nothing to do with how many years I've lived, but have everything to do with how I lived with the years I've got.

I struggle with getting people to take me seriously. And, I figure, if I have problems, what about those even younger than me who have more to say than I do? When do they get their chance? What do they have to do in order to be heard by their churches, their leadership and their community? What does it take for us to meet each other on level ground without preconceived notions and ideas?

The Bible is full examples of young people serving God and making a difference in the lives of their communities. From the Hebrew Boys to King David. Reflect on Jeremiah and the prophets. Mary, Timothy: these were all young people who believed in God and had strong faith and convictions. And, whether we believe it or not, our faith is not only based on Jesus Christ but also these young people who, though ordinary, did extraordinary things.

I don't have to do extraordinary things, I just have to walk by faith and not by sight. So I'm no longer discouraged by the fact that people are more interested about my age than my ministry. And I don't expect things to change overnight, but I'm committing myself to dispelling the myth that young people have nothing to say about Jesus Christ and their faith.

Abortion

This essay is for the young people. The young people who trust their parents, trust their teachers, trust their friends. The young people who want everything out of life, The young people who want to be successful and equate success with money rather than character. Status symbols rather than integrity. This essay is for those who feel like the unthinkable can never happen to them but instead to the other person who “looks” like it shouldn't happen to them either, but it did. Up till now, I've written about a couple of things that matter to me because I feel like the congregation deserves a better look its preachers. I feel that many of you just don't think that we're real people. We are. We have experiences just like you do. We have the good, the bad and the ugly.

I thought it would never happen to me. That I would never have to make a decision like this. It never crossed my mind and I thought that I was being more careful. I thought that I had all my ducks in a row, all my “I's” dotted and my “T's” crossed. And when I got the phone call from my girlfriend, I had no idea that it would change my life forever. She was late. She was scared. She was hoping she was wrong. But, alas, she wasn't. She was... pregnant.

I couldn't even take of myself, how was I supposed to take care of them? I couldn't rub two nickels together. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. We had been so careful. But one particular night, we had gotten wrapped in the heat of the moment. Forgotten about protocol, forgotten about STD's, forgotten about our futures and lived a period of suspended animation where nothing mattered at the time but her and I, and our love for one another. And I did love her. Deeply. Without question. Undeniably. I loved her, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. We were already engaged. We had discussed children, but not this soon, not in nine months, not right now. And especially not while I'm working at McDonald's! Ain't no way!

This was my failure... asking her to abort. Asking her to give up what we made together, what we conceived in one night of pure passion. How could one night make a difference? How could one night so magical become a nightmare? My failure... I shirked responsibility. I gave up something I should've kept. I gave up love without giving it a chance to let its heart beat. I gave up love without giving it a chance to grow. I gave up love before it took its first breath. My failure... My regret...

Most people just discuss the girl. But what about the boy? For months, I hated myself. I couldn't stand the sight of me in the mirror. I held it together okay in front of people, but late in the midnight hour, I was in pain. I was afraid to sleep because I kept hearing a baby crying in the night for its “daddy”. I hated going to the mall, I kept seeing parents with their kids. They were happy. I intentionally walked into the baby department of stores and wondered what could've been. What level of contribution would I have made to society? What would my son or daughter have become? Would I have made a good father, a good daddy?

Even now I think about it from time to time. I have great admiration and respect for those who choose life. You mean the world to me. Even if I've never met you. I would love to hear how one little person who depends on you for everything changed your life. I would love to hear your story. I would love to hear how you learned to change your first diaper, and how wrong I was! I denied myself opportunity to mold something. I wish sometimes that I could get it back, but it passed. I wish I could've had the night with cold and the fever and no sleep, but still got to go to work because I'm motivated to do it for my child. But it passed.

Now I understand why God gave me youth ministry. He took the one thing I gave up and multiplied it over and over. I have a chance to help others with my experience, my failure, my regret... I refuse to see another young person make the wrong mistake. DO NOT EVER think for a minute that I'm promoting sex before marriage! I believe in morals and family values more now than ever before. But should you happen to fall, get up dust yourself off and start again. Don't take the easy way out like I did. It opened more issues for me to deal with later. It's worth you handling your responsibility.

And for that reason, this essay is for the young people. I'm not ashamed to tell you I messed up. This is for the young people because I want you to know that I am human. I haven't always been saved. I haven't always been a preacher. I have however, always been human. Subject to error, subject to frailties. But I'm still here, I'm still ministering, I'm still living. I have many more mistakes to make. Hopefully they won't have the impact that this did. It's been over 10 years now.

I understand why God gave me ministry to young people. So that I can still make a difference. So that I could still declare that He does know what He's doing. So, you're not the only one with deep dark secrets, I have them, too. But my failure, will become my testimony. My failure will become my triumph. My failure. My regret. My triumph. My life. My God.

Boldness

Afraid to bare their soul.
Afraid to be embarrassed.
Afraid to be talked about.
Afraid to be center of gossip.

At times, I figure that people don't “get” me because I just bare my soul. I'm not afraid to talk about my embarrassments and such. Some people have dared to say that it makes no sense for a preacher to put himself out there on front street. My answer, leaders lead from the front, not the back. How can you lead if the people have to look back at you? You've got to go up front. So, I have talked about my privacy, my love life, my anger and my age. And now, people are finding fault with me because I'm not relating scripture or rather not expounding on the biblical meaning of my topics.
This series is designed to be an exposition of a preacher's life and times, not how well I can debate scripture. I'm trying to reveal that, at the end of the day, a preacher is human. And not without emotions and feelings.

Church folk, you need to know that sometimes you are belittling, and petty and demeaning and self serving. And sometimes you really make a preacher's life hell because you hold him to a standard that you yourself refuse to live up to. I love you but I'm tired of listening to Christians balk at the lives of preachers. I didn't ask to be put on pedestals, I didn't ask to be lifted up. I do ask for support. Help me maintain my humanity while I preach spirituality. No, I don't have all of the answers. I may not ever attain the preaching ability of TD Jakes, but I do what I'm anointed to do.

It is a bold step to stand before God's people and proclaim His word. It's bold because in effect, I realize that I'm also laying out my study life before you. I'm laying out my prayer life before you. It is difficult to continue to bring something new and fresh from the Word of God on a regular basis. It takes study, it takes prayer, it takes analytical skills, it takes rhetorical skills, it takes speaking skills. It takes above all else, the anointing. Because working in the anointing takes skill, too, and that's the thing that I need the most. Because if in fact the Spirit is subject to the prophet, the prophet has to be careful at all times about knowing whether or not he's operating in self or in the Spirit.

I'm not your typical preacher. I go through dry spells where the Lord is giving me no new revelation. I go through periods where I don't want to pray. I go through periods where not wanting to pray actually happens! I go through periods of frustration, exhaustion and fatigue. But I also get up every morning and try it again. Because my ministry is not a hobby, as a friend of mine says. I don't just do this on Sunday morning. This is a lifestyle for me. I have to practice it. I don't practice my shout, I practice principles and precepts. That's what makes me bold. That's what makes me so outspoken, so different, peculiar. The fact that I dare to be bold enough to challenge the way that you live, the way you speak, the way you pray, the way you that you see the world in which we live helps me know that my calling and election is sure.

So, for my critics, here's another essay for you to dissect. Here's another lesson in the life of Neil Brown. Just a preacher, just a man, just a Christian, but only human.

Suicide

I punched through the window on the side of the front door secretly hoping that it would all be over. I had succeeded except for one or two layers of skin, as I would discover later. Blood was everywhere. I had been taken home to change clothes in order to appear in a school assembly. The Assistant Principal didn't like the dress down look and figured that I was unaware of the assembly, and she was right. Dad was working the night shift, so I knew that he was home sleeping. But the wind was really hard that day, and he had locked the screen door so that it wouldn't open anymore and disturb his slumber. I couldn't get in. Not through the garage, not through the back door, not through a window. And so, all of the aggression and all of my problems with my self-esteem surfaced and all of my frustrations and all of my fears came up and I, tired of trying to get in, punched a hole through glass and decided to brush my arm against its jagged edges. Wasn't all that painful either, it was more of a “poke” I suppose. I knew what was happening the entire time.

I will say that if I recall correctly, I have spent most of my time trying to get in. I have tried to “fit in", in a variety of areas and places. I tried in school to fit in with the jocks, I wasn't able. I tried with the preppies, that didn't work. I tried with the “smart kids” and that was a joke. I tried with adults, and that didn't — still doesn't work. Then I tried God, and that worked... in fact, is still working. I found, if I could borrow from the cliché, I found in Him a resting place, and He has made me glad.

I've had a lot of jagged edges. Things that make you lose hope in yourself and in humanity. Somehow I slipped through the cracks. And while I look okay on the outside, the inside has been through personal turmoil and tragedy. Suicide is the real deal, and it's not easy to beat. I haven't felt the pain in a real long time, but somebody needs to know that I understand your pain. When it feels like nobody around you cares or pays attention. When your feelings are hurt for no good reason and you play it off as a joke and join in the joking attacking your own self. When you participate in certain “behaviors” just to get a rise out of people. When you do what is “expected” of you and don't feel like it. When you do the right thing because that's what your home training dictates. When you get home late at night and the shades are drawn and you are crying out for help with nobody answering. While you are depressed and moody and can't figure out why. Or even listening to the voices in your head that tell you all the negative things about you, even if they aren't true. Yeah, it's kinda like that.

Who do you reach out to? Who do you call? Everyone thinks you have a good head on your shoulders, but when you are by yourself, who cradles you in their arms and tells you everything is going to work out? Who whispers sweet nothings in your ears to make you feel you wanted and needed? Who defends you and tells others to leave you alone? Just who can you count on?

Suicide, the permanent solution to temporary problems? It takes more courage to live than to die from self-inflicted wounds. Jesus, as I would find out later, is the permanent solution to temporary problems. Jesus said I come that you might have life, and have it more abundantly. I had been hoping for others to validate me and make me feel secure. My security is not in friends, it is in the life that comes from Jesus the Christ.

Now, I know whatever happens in my life, I have one friend no matter what. I don't really have a large circle of friends in the first place. I limit myself to this enigmatic figure, full of complexities and not really letting anyone in anymore. And so, what I've discovered is that now people are trying to get in with me and it's not working. I'm not sure that I even know how to let people in at this point. Writing this series has been one of the most cleansing things I've ever been through aside from receiving salvation.

God has allowed me to purge my pain. It has been through tears and frustration. Exhaustion and fatigue that I can truly tell you that I am free from some of the emotions that have been a hard lesson in life. I'm a work in progress and trying to still figure something out, among them, how to let some people in and let down my guard. You'll have to bear with me, it isn't easy to try this again. But my life is worth it, and it is worth living. Why should I die when somebody died for me already? Suicide, not the answer, but a closed door. You can't overcome the problem if you don't face it. Suicide, not an answer, but you running and not wanting to see resolution. I'm a conqueror, you can be too, just pick a different ending.

Divorce

I thought they could work it out. They always had before. They had been careful to really not try to fight in front of us as we were growing up. They did that behind closed doors. Sometimes they yelled, sometimes they didn't. I respected that. I understood that when you were married, you do your best not to go to bed angry with your spouse. I witnessed people who did their best to bring resolution into the house so that the house would have peace. But, it would not work out this time. And it dragged on and on and on. For days, weeks, months it dragged. The house had never been so quiet like this before. Two people who could no longer communicate. They had nothing to say to each other. How do you live with anybody for years and have nothing to say? Not ,"Good morning", or ,"Sleep well”. Couldn't say, “I love you", anymore. Yes, it happened while I was trying to figure out my future. My past and present fell apart. My support system, part of my foundation gone... my parents divorced.

I lost something valuable on April 20, 1992. I lost the notion that people really do stay together. I thought that this is the stuff that happens to other people, but not at my house. Not in my family, not my parents. But, they finalized their separation. They united April 19, 1961, and said goodbye April 20, 1992. It's like having your birthday removed from your life. Because you figure that somewhere these two people loved each other enough to create a life together. I envisioned 50 and 60 year anniversary dates, gone. Family trips, gone. Christmas, gone. Birthdays, gone. Homecoming of the children, gone. Getting together with the grandchildren, gone. With the stroke of a pen, a decree dismantled my whole world, and these two people were okay with it. And I thought it was my fault.

What do I do? I didn't know what to say. I just cleaned the house. I thought that a clean house represented a happy house. I spent hours trying to clean the stench and the stain that the invisible silence left behind. I tried to clean until the rainbow would break through and heal my house. But, what I knew to be home was now just a house. Mom was working two jobs, so I would cook dinner for her so she could eat a little something when she got home. She would have gone for hours by then since lunch. My dad wouldn't cook. He just watched TV. He was retired and did nothing but play golf and go to bars. Meanwhile, I cleaned everything, except my room— making an example of my inner emotions. I didn't know how to clean my own room. I couldn't make sense of the mess in my room and my own life. I spent so much time trying to fix them, that I forgot about me. I got lost in my own guilt and in between two people that I love with all my heart. I felt like choosing would be a detriment to relationships. A dichotomy. 50/50 of two good things. I am a whole person because two parts came together and united as one.

I felt guilty. I didn't want to move on without them being together. I felt incomplete. Who do I turn to for advice? Who do I ask questions of? I felt distress. I felt despair. I felt angry. I felt numb. I felt all these emotions that I could not fix or temper. I could manage and I couldn't cope. I lashed out at people. I cussed folks out, including my parents. I worked two jobs so I wouldn't have to think about it or deal with the reality of it. My parents got divorced, and I was mad at the world. I was eighteen years old, and couldn't figure out my own mind. I felt ridiculous. I felt like I was in danger, like I was no longer safe. I lost my covering, my shield and protection.

I got tired of seeing my friends whose parents were still married and going strong. I wished they could go through what I was going through. There were times that I didn't want leave these folks' houses even though I wanted to see them try to stand up to a divorce. I was back and forth. I stayed out late. I drove around town for no reason, just looking for anything like home. I did not sleep, I refused to sleep. And I couldn't tell this kind of stuff to my parents. How do you tell someone who is already hurting that you're hurt, too? So, I resolved to remain strong and let nobody know that I was feeling demoralized and sleep deprived. I told nobody, and it festered in me. I secretly prayed that they would get back together and start over knowing that it was not going to happen.

Young people, this divorce is NOT your fault. Stop feeling guilty. Let it go. Your parents divorcing has nothing to do with their love for you; it's them living together. They may love each other, they just can't live together. Sometimes love is so strong it doesn't know how to express itself except through anger and pain. Love can be explosive. My parents may have loved each other so much that they had to say goodbye to their relationship as man and wife. They could no longer co-exist. I don't know, I'm just speculating. But, for sure their split is not my fault. Them not being able to speak, is not my fault. I don't know what caused it, I don't know why, but it ain't my fault; it ain't yours either.

But, you must talk to someone and begin to sort through your feelings and emotions. You've got to tell your parents that your love for them doesn't mean that they can use you as pawns to get the upper hand. And if you can't talk to them, then talk to somebody you trust and begin to let it go. When did I let it go? Glad you asked.

It happened to me in church service while directing the choir. They were singing, “All In His Hands", you that thumper. Whatever the problem, I put it all in His hands I know that He can solve them, I put it all in His hands... you know that one. You've probably heard it once or twice (go 'head and smile). And towards the end of the song, there is this cadence in which the choir has to follow the director. So whatever I shout out, they must do; it happened in church service right there, on display, God spoke to me and said, “I'm giving you the peace that passes all understanding", and I lost my mind. And, let it go.

Now, some twelve years later, I understand that God was teaching me to never take any relationship for granted. Don't take anything for granted, not even your life. Cherish every experience. Live life to its fullest. Take the risks. Living is not being lazy; relationships and life take work. Communicate with those that you love. Tell them. Whatever bothers you, tell them. Nothing is sacred. Your questions, ask them. Your fears, face them. Your confusion, get help sorting it out. You cannot drown in the abyss of complacency and apathy. You are better than that. You deserve the opportunity to change the world. Your dreams, go after them. Your regrets, do not dwell on them. Your failures, learn from them. Yes, this divorce hurt, but it doesn't hurt anymore.

Sex

It happened one summer in July. Her mother's bedroom, her mother's bed, in fact. I lost my innocence, my purity, and my virginity. Not that I had such a tough time at it, but, every warm blooded boy wants to say goodbye to his boyhood; and is in a hurry to do so. People think that because I'm a minister, I have never made a mistake; like I've been a goody-two-shoes all of my life. Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm a regular guy with regular experiences. I do hold a few regrets about some things in my past, but in order for me to deflower the perfect image I seem to have, let me tell you... She was my third girlfriend. We had been dating for a few months. We had gotten further each time we got together. Kissing to touching to petting to foreplay to oral to actual intercourse. What? I'm not ashamed to tell you. I did it, and I admit that I did it. I had pre-marital sex and I had a lot of it with this girl. Her mother would buy me condoms and allow it to happen in the house. She lived across the street from me in one of the cul-de-sacs. It was easy to sneak out. Wait until mom and dad were sound asleep and snoring, slip right out the front door and go across the street, come back in the wee hours of the morning; and no one is the wiser. I admired her mother. She knew what we were doing upstairs and downstairs. And she figured that maybe it was easier to embrace the fact that her teenage daughter was having sex with her boyfriend. And rather than let us go sneaking around to hotel rooms and lookout point, she figured she would offer her house.

And so, she sat down and spoke with us together in a frank discussion that I never would've gotten with my parents, she spilled out her expectations. Expectations that we would later violate, but she was upfront and honest. I wouldn't do it now, in hindsight, but it was a plan at the time. What teenage boy wouldn't want to have sex in the house of his girlfriend, and the mother is somewhere in the house knowing what's going on? That's a safe environment!

This lady understood that if we really wanted to have sex, we would find a way. And this is probably what shaped my ideas about sex. It was difficult at first, knowing that she was there. But, she'd offer sodas and dinner; a particular favorite of mine was spaghetti and catfish. I had a lot of dinner over there. My mother didn't always approve of this relationship. And so we decided to keep both of my parents out of the loop. We used to call mom “the warden” because she was so strict with me. There were times when she said no to going across the street. And it seemed stupid, but this is what you deal with as a teenager; thinking that mom and dad just don't get it.

But in hindsight, I realize that my parents loved me immensely and were not afraid to go to extremes to make sure that I was protected and sheltered and disciplined. I'm glad I had this type of upbringing it saved me from the craziness of the world around me. But the point that I'm trying to make parents is this: that if your child wants to do something bad enough, they will find a way. Things that are expressly forbidden become fruit we deem to be real tasty. It's like a dangling a carrot; we will chase it until we can catch it, taste it, eat it and digest it. It is critical then parents that if you tell your child no, that you explain to your child why. I know some of you think you are not accountable to your child in this way, but it is a matter of opening the lines of communication. One of the main reasons that young people fall into temptation is because parents are too embarrassed to talk to their children about their failures and experiences. Take the time ya'll it is well worth it later. Had my parents taken the time to discuss certain issues with me; not just sex, what about balancing a checkbook, paying my bills on time, the real importance of credit and saving money; had I had these discussions, I wouldn't have had to learn by trial and error. I still may have made mistakes in these areas, but what if that would've made the difference in my decision making process? What if I had taken the time to think twice about some of the things that I'd done? Just remembering a simple talk with my parents. It is molding and shaping. It is crafting and putting on finishing touches. Making sure that when your child leaves your household, that they will not be culture shocked by the things you refused to expose them too. Do not let your child run buck wild at the first opportunity. Open your mouth and talk to your child. Sit down and have a meal with them. Have family time. Have mom and child or dad and child time. I turned out to be okay after all; but that's because of prayers and supplication on my behalf. Somebody interceded for me. I had folks to pull me aside and tell about life's real deal. I didn't get everything, but I got something, and that helped.

So the real issue about my sex life— you don't really want the gory details. The bottom line is for you is that you want to know what do I think about all of this now right? Okay here goes: I believe that your child could be possibly having sex. And at this day and age, there are two things that will save your life: the bible and condoms. And please, please, please put some thought into the Bible you give them. Buying them whatever King James Version is on sale for $9.99 and tossing it at them is thoughtless and ultimately damaging to your purpose. The KJV is virtually impenetrable to a teen, and your indifference only reinforces the idea, for them, that God is an ancient, dusty relic. There are lots of fine teen Bibles out there. Take the time to find one that fits your kid. Then, don't just hand it to them, read it WITH them. Show them around God's word, help them to see His word is vivid and alive and it will take root in their hearts.

I believe that parents should tell you about their life and times. And I do mean all of the embarrassing stuff that you don't want anybody to know. If you were a teenage parent, tell them. If you had an STD, tell them. Let's protect our children. We can only do that with information and the sharing of our experiences with them. You cannot tell them your secrets after they do the same thing you do and realize the consequences after it's too late. Let's not do that to our children anymore. They should be able to talk to us about anything. There are things that shock young people too. We need to be able to help them identify things that do not line up with the word of God, which means that we need to know the word of God for ourselves.

If you really want to protect your children, then you should make sure your relationship with God is the priority in your life. That you are consistent, in church and out of it. God is only as real to your kids as your testimony. If they never see you pray, if you never pray with and for them, if you have no daily devotion, if your spiritual life is shaky or even shady, you can't possibly expect to be a moral beacon for them. If you have spent fifteen years abandoning them to the television, then those are the values you have imparted to them— the world's values. The world that is more concerned with biology than spirituality. That speaks of relationships rather than responsibility and self-discipline. If you've done that, you need to pray for the best but gird yourself for the worst.

The word of God tells us to be workmen that are able to rightly divide the word because if you can rightly divide, you can also wrongly divide it. We need to pray regularly. We need to read and study regularly. We need to share what we've gleaned regularly so that our children can have a firm foundation built on the chief cornerstone.

God can and will forgive us for being bad parents, but the damage is done. Forcing your kids into a model of prudish behavior after the act is a general waste of time. Your inconsistency has undermined your efforts to keep them pure. So, now, you can choose to put on blinders and pretend the problem does not exist (the solution far too many of our black churches employ these days— there is, literally, no teaching on sex or sexuality in our youth program), or you can seek God to reveal Himself fully in their lives while being practical and responsible about what you know— and you do know— your child is doing.

Please do not take any of this to mean that I condone sex before marriage, because I do not. I prefer to see young folks take this major step carefully and cautiously (and only after college, by the way). Furthermore, I'd prefer that you not have sex at all until you're married period. Make sure that you marry for love and not for sex or because it seems easier for the tax bracket. But, the fact is, even the most moral and obedient and sincere child is tempted, each and every day, to have sex. Tempted by other teens, tempted by peers, tempted by adults. If your teen has Internet access, she HAS seen images of people having sex. It really is that simple. Things you were perhaps sheltered from if only because you had to go to a store and buy a magazine are free and readily and aggressively available online. and the entire world is a wired place, now.

From the moment they wake up and turn on the radio, your kids are bombarded, all day, with sounds and images of people talking about sex, wanting sex, needing sex, idolizing sex, dressing sexy, looking sexy, brightening their teeth so they can have sex, flattening their stomachs or enlarging their breasts so they can have sex. Sex, in this world, equals money and because of that, it's big business to get your kid to lose their virginity. Fat kids with nappy hair and bad breath probably aren't going to have as much sex as skinny kids with ultra-bright teeth and the latest cell phone. This is evil. Evil. It's war, a war we are losing because we are too scared of ourselves to get into the fight. Shame on the parents too terrified or embarrassed to save their own child, and shame on the church that has no programs, no information, no support for teens during this, the most critical times of their lives.

We must do better. We simply have to do better than this.

Reverend Neil Brown
January 2006
holla@neilbrown.org
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