[This post is a complicated one to write, since I have still dear friends who are active in the church I write about. I hope it is clear that these are only reflections of my experience from 2005-2007.]
In late fall/early winter of 2004, when my time in Pittsburgh drew nigh (I had an extra semester of college), I was given an opportunity to join a church plant team from Philadelphia headed to Atlanta. I knew the church plant pastor since I was in middle school and I knew a fair amount of the plant team. So I did what any earnest Christian would do: pray for God’s direction. I’m not sure how it felt like the right answer, but I seemed to be convinced that God gave the OK.
So much to my parents’ chagrin, I spent a mere three weeks at home and quickly headed to Atlanta with a few friends. Looking back on it, I wonder why I decided to go so enthusiastically. Wasn’t I exhausted by my four years in ALC? Was I excited about taking the good things I learned to a new church ministry? Or was I just afraid of not having any idea what I’d do if I went back home?
Immediately upon arrival, I was plugged into the leadership of Journey Church of Atlanta (JCA), a church geared towards ministering to Emory and Georgia Tech students. All the male leaders were shacked up like refugees in a house down the street from Emory and the female leaders were in an apartment five minutes away from the house. It was an electrifying first year, being a part of a groundswell of new spirituality. I was familiar with being in a new ministry, having been the first class of a new campus ministry that Agape planted at Pitt (since they were originally a CMU-only ministry). But this was somehow more exciting, and it was very rewarding to see college kids join our church and find community. Best of all, it was an immensely fun time for me—for us.
JCA was situated somewhere in between my youth group spirituality and Agapé spirituality. Passionate, evangelical, objective-oriented, largely Asian American, but — most importantly—without any of the cultish markers that plagued my college experience. Among other responsibilities, I led two college small groups and the church worship team during my two-year stint. It was a busy and often exhausting two years, which I look back on with mixed emotions. One thing I’ve learned about myself: an increase in church responsibility leads to a decrease in sociability. It became second nature to count down the clock during something ministry-related so I could go home and veg in front of my computer or relax with my housemates.
Most unique about my time at JCA was my sudden interest in theology unlike any years past. I’m not sure what got me started, but knowing about the mechanics of the Christian faith became very important to me. I immersed myself in conservative reformed theology, soaking in the works and sermons of John Piper, Ravi Zacharias, the Passion Conferences, and what was called the neo-reformed or neo-puritanical movement, depending on who you ask. It was the general theology of my church (and of most Asian American evangelical churches) so I wanted to be well-versed, even a defender of the worldview. Whether in small group, prepping with the band before Sunday worship, or God-talking with church folk, I would make sure to share what I thought was the correct theology. It was important to read the right commentaries and use the right Bible translations.
Into the second year, I began to feel worn down. Leading band took the most toll on me; it was an immense struggle and my frustration manifested itself into a micromanaging and overbearing style of leadership. I took my anger out on band members, enacted silly policies to make sure they were more religiously disciplined, and often “rebuked” them. I look back and wonder if it was because I felt pressure from the leadership to mold the band into a certain image (see sidenote) or if I just didn’t have what it took. Even retreats started to become an underwhelming and mindless enterprise where I didn’t even care to pray anymore during prayer times. I just sat there, bored, tired, and annoyed. I took my frustrations out on my roommates, acting passive-aggressively, resulting in arguments and awkward situations.
Simultaneously, my intense interest in that certain brand of theology started to crack. A new movement was starting to rumble throughout American Christianity called the Emerging/Emergent Church, and the neo-reformed side I was on was on the offensive. But in the course of engaging in some Sun Tzu “know thy enemy” reading of the Emergent Church, I found myself starting to agree with their ideas and criticisms of modern evangelicalism and western Christianity. As a response, a verse kept running through my head:
The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.
I started to wonder whether the modern Church today was becoming more concerned with building bigger houses for the workers than with picking the harvest itself. Shouldn’t the proper response be to go out to the masses and engage them there where they are and as they are, instead of evangelizing to bring folks in? My views of church as an institution were radically changing and they began contending with my place in my own church.
In early 2007, in an incredibly painful decision, I voluntarily stepped down from leading the worship team and decreased my responsibilities within the church. And in the late spring of 2007, after a series of difficult conversations, I left JCA. Comparatively, it was far more painful than leaving Pittsburgh. And despite my friends still by my side, I felt more spiritually alone than ever. This loneliness was different. It wasn’t a social loneliness. It was an emotional and mental one—much more taxing on the heart. It felt like a breakup.
