Coming Clean

Into the Rough and Brambles

So this post is about the hellish three years that is known as Middle School. Middle School is aptly name as it is that time that you are most neglected, most needing of attention, and most ignored (or otherwise given the attention you don’twant) much like the proverbial Middle Child.

If I were given the opportunity to redo a group of years, I’d redo those. I have no idea how I’d redo them — heck I might even end up doing them exactly the same — but I’d like the opportunity and try to get it right. Unfortunately, I got it very, very wrong.

So, what is all this consternation about Middle School? Well you have to understand a few things about what I thought of myself prior to this point. Prior to this point, I considered myself to be a good Christian boy. Unfortunately, that’s what everyone else my age thought of me and branded me as such (and oh how searingly it burned).

Being a good Christian boy, I was out to do right. I seldom did wrong. Oh, I had my failings — resisting my parents, disobeying my parents, not standing up to the bigger kids for the smaller kids, and other such childish nonsense. But the difference between those things and what was to come is that I was still being true to myself, seeking to do good, and trying to conform those around me to those same goals. That my parents had burdened me with a Law that I did not want was their problem and not mine. My love and respect for my parents often times found myself conforming to those Laws for their honor, but every now and then, I wanted something of my own. So, any disobedience that stemmed from these times were not so much a violation of conscience as much as a contest of wills.

Beginning at the age 11 is when I began to hesitatntly, resistingly violate my conscience. I did so in two very personal ways: I denied my best friend and I cussed. All of this to be accepted by a friend that did not last the year, who eventually became too cool for me, and who relished my disobedience more than my friendship. Perhaps that’s kids being kids. It hit me deep. The shame that I carry from these things still amazes me – even in the light of things I’ve done since.

A lot of people say they know when they accepted Jesus. I know when I first sinned. It was then. That would be the one thing God and Jesus would not excuse of someone living in Their Name. The rest, we could banter about but it would all be legal and about assigning and passing blame around. But with these things I was without excuse, absolutely culpable, totally exposed, and utterly ashamed. In some respect, I think I know exactly how Adam felt. If I could run away or otherwise get a “redo”, I would.

From there, things went down hill. I sought increasingly more to be accepted. I became confused in what it meant being Christian. I acted less Christ like to the kids that deserved it most (namely, those that weren’t in anyway Christian) for the kids that acted under some kind of piety that stemmed largely from Church going. I was thorougly stuck between the two groups, looking for acceptance, and finding very little. I did not have any lasting friendships from Middle School, but I had a few good friends, for a time, here and there. But something about me always got in the way to end the friendship – whether it be lack of commitment or my own sense of “piety” or what not. God, how I thoroughly hate this time.

If it were not for school work, scouts, band, and soccer, I probably would have been thoroughly depressed and dejected. As it was, I had those things, I excelled in them, and they were the core source of my self esteem. The relationship with my parents was real rocky throughout this time, but they, sensing my need to “do”, allowed me to do at least those things and kept me away from other things (such as hanging out with “my friends”). It was real hard for me to understand their love for me in an active way back then, but I sure see it now.

Church pretty muched stopped somewhere in these years. My brother and I realized that if you move real slow Sunday morning, you become late enough that you miss church. Ah, well, really, that was just too bad in our book. Really too bad… I might just move a little slower next time to be sure. Like I said earlier, a lot of disobedience in children isn’t so much sinfulness as the contest of wills. My brother and I won this battle.

So, that’s Middle School in a nutshell. It may seem like a lot of words for not a lot, but to me it’s one of those life changing / profound times I always find myself thinking back on a lot. Certainly, I have only shared the bare minimum of that time, but you know why it’s important. But I doubt you’ll ever know just how deep it goes.

Where The Road Began

My parents were both brought up in Southern Christian families. There were mostly Southern Baptists and Methodists in the mix, but, it has seemed to me anyways, that the South has its own form of Christianity that seems pretty consistent between denomination lines. You’ve got to go grab catechisms and what-not to really find out what makes them different aside from the rituals they do.

By the time I showed up in their lives my parents had become involved in a Charismatic church. I spent many of my formative years among the speakers of tongues. It has, in many ways, jaded me of pretty much anything good that could and does come out of those communities – even while I still very much believe in it all! But that’s another topic for another time.

I spent my first 8 or so years in a small, homegrown church that my parents helped start. I was very aware of their faith, and I asked a lot of questions about it. It was what lead me to make a profession of faith at the age of 6. What can a 6 year old know about matters of faith? Well, the only thing I can tell you is that I remember from that time that I was to follow Jesus. I was to learn to think like He thinked, to walk like He walked, and anything short of that was going to land me on my face (and I would likely find myself there anyways no matter how hard I tried). It has in many ways formed the core of my faith, though, I might be able to say it has changed some over the years, too.

I attended kindergarten and 1st grade at this small church as well. So it was very much a part of who I was. But that all started to change when I started attending public school in 2nd grade. At that point we began attending church on-again/off-again. By the time I was 8, church had become one of those things you just do when you get around to it, so when we changed churches, it wasn’t as much of a big deal as it probably should have been for me. I was pretty bummed because I was losing all my best friends, but a child can only do what his parents are going to do.

Public school was a big adjustment for me. Kids are mean there. I was picked on a bit when attending school at church, but that was nothing like what happened to me in public school. And kids encourage you to do bad things in public school… which I did not understand either. But, for the most part, I held my own in elementary school. I was a quick runner and a smart kid. So that kept me out of harm’s way during recess and made me the apple of the teacher’s eye during class. I was pretty well liked all the same, but children will take advantage of other children if they sense that they can. It seems that many people have thought that they can take advantage of me throughout my life, but nothing on a deeply scarring level.

Anyways, the new church was cool because I made a friend named Scott. He and I liked a lot of the same things. And we could talk about Jesus, which was even cooler. As a kid, I knew a lot of people either (1) didn’t know who Jesus is or (2) didn’t have much to say about Him. Scott was different. I had in him, essentially, an elementary accountability partner. I LOVED going to church so I could see Scott during Sunday school. I bet our conversations would be pretty neat to hear now… but no such luck. I just remember him being a good kid that I could talk and share with.

Just as I entered middle school, Scott’s family moved away. Church lost a lot of meaning for me at that point because then it was just about adults and the things adults do. I knew adults talked about Jesus, and I listened a lot trying to pull it all in… but adult stuff is for adults and doesn’t do a lot for a kid. The other children that were in my sunday school class never seemed to talk to me when it was just me and no Scott. And when you’re an island of a child in sunday school, there’s just nothing there for you.

Essentially, my childhood — that time before middle school — was a great time for me spiritually. It has probably laid the foundation for who I am today, though I’ve tried to tear it down a few times over now. I always remember it nostalgically, especially in light of what was to come next.

I firmly believe, never mind the tongue in cheek, that middle school is hell manifested on earth.