Pastor's Daughter. That label defined me for most of my life until I moved out of my parents' home, left the church, and actively worked on forming my own identity.
My relationship with the church has always been a rocky one, full of both love and anger. As a child, my dad pastored small churches. We moved a lot. I was an awkward kid and the transitions were always difficult. When I was 10 years old, we moved to Indiana and my dad accepted a staff position at a church where we would remain at until I was 18. Some of the hardest and best years of my life happened while attending this church. When my parents accepted a new position at a church in Colorado, I stayed in Indiana and went to college, and left the church entirely. My struggles with the church did not stop there, though.
As a kid, I remember church feeling forced. I tried hard to be good, confessing all my sins at alter calls when I was only a child. My parents didn't raise me to believe I was a sinner, but inside I knew I wasn't feeling the things I was "supposed" to. Once I entered the youth group, I pushed harder. We had a youth pastor who believed in "excellence" as Christians. We were expected to devote our lives and all our free time to the youth group. I signed right up and was on his leadership team. I was always "different" though. I questioned and searched, was loud and dressed different. My parents were supportive of my mild rebellion- as long as I went to church and believed as they did. I was teaching Sunday school, on the Praise Team, a youth group leader, and doing all I could to push my guilt and questions aside. I even chose to attend Christian school to try and "fix" myself. My self-expression came in my appearance, chopping off my hair and dressing in outrageous clothes. Despite my efforts to be a good Christian girl and conform, I was always leaking out. I went to alter calls and gave my testimony to alleviate my guilt and try to fit- to force my real self to line up with who I needed to be to be sanctified.
Insecurity grew and grew. Christian school and the youth group became awful for me. It wasn't working. I didn't fit and my heart was breaking. I could not be like the others. I thought I had to be, but I couldn't stop being loud and rebellious, questioning and searching. I was bullied at Christian school and always in trouble. One day, after many days of tears, I couldn't take it anymore. I called my mom from a pay phone during lunch and, between sobs, told her I had to leave. The next week, I moved to public school. A week later, I was active in the school's theater department. It was a haven for insecure, searching, different teenagers. I had a talent for acting, and I found my tribe and was starting to be happy again.
My relationship with the youth group and my close friends there continued to crumble. I began to thrive. I found others like me in the theater department. My differentness was normal to them. My depression stayed, and would for many years to come until I found therapy. But I was home with them for a time.
As I did more and more plays at school, my lack of attendance at church was frowned upon by the youth pastor. He confronted my dad, and my dad rose to my defense. Theater was a possible career, and Wednesday night youth group was not. I will always be grateful to my parents for supporting me. I still had to go to church on Sundays, but I quit the praise team and Sunday school. I drove separate as soon as I could so I could leave directly after service and not talk to anyone. The youth group wasn't a place I wanted to be. I usually sat alone and sneaked out of service to go on walks around the neighborhood.
With college came more struggles, my depression and anxiety could no longer be ignored. During high school my depression turned into an eating disorder that was still with me. Bad boyfriends played a role as well. In the theater department, my professor said something to my acting class I will never forget: "All of you are hear to pursue a career where you pretend to be someone else. That's not normal. I encourage you all to go to therapy to figure out why you want to do this. You cannot deal with emotions of acting if you don't have your shit together." Well, a year in to the program, it became abundantly clear he was right. I was a mess. I wasn't sleeping, my weight was plummeting, I was turning to outside things to numb myself. I went to the school counseling center and quit acting.
A lot of time was spent in therapy dealing with my anger at the church for my struggles and those of my parents, bad relationships with boys, and trying to reconcile my feelings of abandonment from God.
As I went through therapy I also searched other religions, I hated entering a church. I was still plagued by my own messy feelings. I did a lot of work to forgive. Eventually, I didn't feel the need to beg forgiveness for my true self at an alter. It was me that needed to do the forgiving. I had to release my own demons. I forgave the church, the youth pastor, the Christian school, my parents. I found my freedom and God within myself. This was one of the most difficult and freeing things I have ever done in my life.
My freedom came from the realization that I did not have to have labels. As I searched other religions, I realized it was more of the same things I was trying to leave in the Christian church. Every group had their own rules and books and names for God. I realized I did not believe in the Bible as the only word of God. That was incredibly freeing. I allowed myself to recognize God in things outside of the church, outside of any religion. I claimed my own rules, my own names for God, my own thoughts. I decided there was a reason it all felt forced to me. It didn't have to be. God accepts me without conditions, and no one religion has the answers for me. The answers are within me and waiting for me in life. I stopped trying to make myself fit an idea of God. God was there the whole time, in the people and experiences of my daily life.
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I wrote this piece two and a half years ago, sitting in the parking lot of the church of my childhood. Now, as Christmas approaches, all the traditions of my Christian childhood surround me. They bring me peace and comfort, remembering the happy times in church and with my family. At the same time, this piece has been on my mind, reminding me of what I came from and where I am now. I fought long and hard to find peace with God. Now is a time of gathering with families, where we are surrounded by people who may be very different from us. This holiday season is also filled with angst for many as our current political climate has brought all of our differences to surface. Now is a time for remembering that we are here because of where we came from. We must tell our stories from our hearts, and listen to others stories, to propel each of us to a place of understanding and our truest selves. It is important to move forward with honesty and without fear.
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