Name:
Email:
Posted: October 15th, 2007 at 1:14am By: Rev. Kristi Denham
U.C. Davis in 1970-71 was a highly stressful academic environment. There were no less than eight suicide attempts during first-quarter finals during my junior year. Add to that the realities of the Vietnam War, Kent State and Jackson State riots and deaths, the My Lai massacre, huge student protests, and you have the makings of a world that felt completely out of control.
But I was a Christian. I was living my life by the presence and guidance of the Prince of Peace. Students would come to me and ask how I could be so calm, so self-assured. I shared my faith with them. I had answers.
Except that once again, the smile on my face began to crack. Under the surface my questions and confusion were growing stronger than my answers.
Emotionally I felt profoundly disconnected from the world around me. I began to see my life as drowning. A thick fog seemed to separate me from others. I was looking into people's eyes, seeing their pain and confusion, but feeling completely invisible and on my own. It was as if I was standing at the edge of a cliff, facing a huge chasm, and wondering if I was going to jump.
If I jumped, I expected never to rise again. I was having a meltdown. I prayed for help.
Campus Crusade for Christ had opened a coffeehouse, and I was there to volunteer. A lovely traveling Jesus freak (complete with long hair and beard) arrived at our door and we immediately clicked. We talked well into the night, and I invited him to sleep on the giant beanbag pillow in our living room.
He was a gift. His understanding began a healing process that very night. We fell asleep together. Sleeping is not a sin.
I shared the apartment with two other Action Group leaders, one of whom was second in command for the women, under the husband and wife team. A few days later she asked to meet with me on campus. She wouldn't tell me why.
At our scheduled meeting she informed me that I was no longer worthy of being an Action Group leader, that my reputation was such that I was being retired from all activities in the organization. She would not tell me what I had done or how I had developed this reputation. I was devastated.
It took me several months and the willingness of one member to break the injunction of silence they had placed on me. She told me that they believed I had had sex with the young man who had slept on our beanbag. They called me a Jezebel and read me passages from the Book of Revelations about "the daughter of Satan." I was shunned. It was a truly dark time in my life.
But it was also a gift. I held onto my relationship with God, for it was my lifeline. I prayed for understanding, for help, for guidance, for strength. I began to realize that my relationship with God was not dependent on an organization, not a church, not a campus ministry. It was dependent on God alone. I held on. God held on. My faith grew stronger, not so much in spite of this experience but because of it.
I let go of a profoundly dysfunctional faith community with its lies and its absolutes and began to find my way as a child of God, loved unconditionally, called to service, able to teach and grow in my faith.
I was finally baptized at a large church in Castro Valley, California. This was a dramatic spotlight-and-full-immersion affair. They read the first Psalm during the sacrament. It became my psalm. I planted myself like a tree beside streams of water and began to draw from those rivers of life.
(To be continued.)
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham.
Permalink
U.C. Davis in 1970-71 was a highly stressful academic environment. There were no less than eight suicide attempts during first-quarter finals during my junior year. Add to that the realities of the Vietnam War, Kent State and Jackson State riots and deaths, the My Lai massacre, huge student protests, and you have the makings of a world that felt completely out of control.
But I was a Christian. I was living my life by the presence and guidance of the Prince of Peace. Students would come to me and ask how I could be so calm, so self-assured. I shared my faith with them. I had answers.
Except that once again, the smile on my face began to crack. Under the surface my questions and confusion were growing stronger than my answers.
Emotionally I felt profoundly disconnected from the world around me. I began to see my life as drowning. A thick fog seemed to separate me from others. I was looking into people's eyes, seeing their pain and confusion, but feeling completely invisible and on my own. It was as if I was standing at the edge of a cliff, facing a huge chasm, and wondering if I was going to jump.
If I jumped, I expected never to rise again. I was having a meltdown. I prayed for help.
Campus Crusade for Christ had opened a coffeehouse, and I was there to volunteer. A lovely traveling Jesus freak (complete with long hair and beard) arrived at our door and we immediately clicked. We talked well into the night, and I invited him to sleep on the giant beanbag pillow in our living room.
He was a gift. His understanding began a healing process that very night. We fell asleep together. Sleeping is not a sin.
I shared the apartment with two other Action Group leaders, one of whom was second in command for the women, under the husband and wife team. A few days later she asked to meet with me on campus. She wouldn't tell me why.
At our scheduled meeting she informed me that I was no longer worthy of being an Action Group leader, that my reputation was such that I was being retired from all activities in the organization. She would not tell me what I had done or how I had developed this reputation. I was devastated.
It took me several months and the willingness of one member to break the injunction of silence they had placed on me. She told me that they believed I had had sex with the young man who had slept on our beanbag. They called me a Jezebel and read me passages from the Book of Revelations about "the daughter of Satan." I was shunned. It was a truly dark time in my life.
But it was also a gift. I held onto my relationship with God, for it was my lifeline. I prayed for understanding, for help, for guidance, for strength. I began to realize that my relationship with God was not dependent on an organization, not a church, not a campus ministry. It was dependent on God alone. I held on. God held on. My faith grew stronger, not so much in spite of this experience but because of it.
I let go of a profoundly dysfunctional faith community with its lies and its absolutes and began to find my way as a child of God, loved unconditionally, called to service, able to teach and grow in my faith.
I was finally baptized at a large church in Castro Valley, California. This was a dramatic spotlight-and-full-immersion affair. They read the first Psalm during the sacrament. It became my psalm. I planted myself like a tree beside streams of water and began to draw from those rivers of life.
(To be continued.)
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham.
Permalink
Add your comments