Archive for the ‘community’ Tag

Open Letter to Sojourn Community Church — Guest Blogger   1 comment

Today, I am publishing an open letter by an anonymous blogger about his experience in a church as part of my current series on life with autism.

 

Almost two years ago now, I stood up and walked out of the sanctuary of Sojourn’s J-Town campus. I never came back. Indeed, I never set foot in Sojourn Community Church (as it calls itself) again. I swore that I would not, and I have kept that oath to the letter.

As I said, it’s been two years, and many things have changed in that time—just as many things have also remained the same. One of those things: I am still angry. Not so angry as I could be, but furious nonetheless—furious at Sojourn for all that it did and did not do—and this fury shows no signs of dissipating.

Holding anger within for two years is unhealthy, to make a bit of an understatement. It is time to set it free, and hope that by doing so it will cause no further damage, either to myself or to others. It is time that Sojourn knows how it hurt me, and what it must do to improve.

I came to Sojourn from a church that had, since my arrival, made a custom of ignoring me. It was easy, of course, for this to occur: I am an introvert, and introverts excel at metamorphosing into inanimate fixtures of their environment, no more deserving of interaction than a piece of furniture. I assumed that this was my natural fate within the church—I was not outgoing nor stimulating in conversation, so why should anyone reach out to me? I contributed nothing; why should I receive anything? A disappointing state of affairs, but a wholly just one.

In the end, my family departed that church, for it also made a custom of ignoring even those who contributed most to its enfeebled existence. And, due to doctrinal particulars that I need not detail, we wound up at Sojourn.

Sojourn was an entirely different place. For one thing, it was big, and growing even bigger. It surrounded itself with artistic talent and endeavor, from an unimpeachable worship band to bulletins prefaced with artworks relevant to the sermon series. The sermons were never anything less than eloquent.

However, the people who comprise Sojourn seemed to be the most significant difference; they were young and hip—the youngest and hippest that a church can scrounge up these days. More importantly, they were enthusiastic for all that Sojourn Community Church stood for: the Gospel, Jesus, and most of all, Community. If you have attended Sojourn for any length of time, you will have noticed that it emphasizes Community a great deal; there is never a Sunday where the phrase “we are a Community!” is not emitted by some grinning individual at a microphone.

You will also have become aware of the primary vehicle by which Community is expressed: namely, the community group. Having become members, my family immediately involved itself in one—and I was there every step of the way. I had discovered that passivity would not work: in order to be anything more than a tumor on the Body of Christ, to truly belong, one must contribute.

In the beginning, I tried my best—and for a time, it seemed to work. My input in sermon discussions was valued (or so it was claimed). Individuals inquired after my well-being (a strange thing indeed). When I underwent neurological surgery, there were people with whom I had no genetic kinship in the waiting room, actively praying for my recovery.

But it did not last. I do not know when the laborious process of constructing relationships with those who comprised our community group ceased, but cease it did: it was as if I had hit some barrier that could not be surmounted by any amount of effort. I reached out, but my reaching was no longer reciprocated. Invitations were refused, excuses made. I stopped attending community group; no one noted my absence. (I did not merely assume this—my parents confirmed it.)

While taking an intensely difficult class in mathematics over the summer, a fairly prominent individual within Sojourn offered to tutor me. Desperate to the point of wishing that I were dead, I accepted. Yet this individual would never respond to my emails requesting assistance in time for us to actually meet. In the end, he stopped responding to my emails at all.

Again—and not for the last time—I was a non-entity. I had less worth than the installations that Sojourn produces in an attempt to validate itself through artistic expression: at least people would sometimes stop and look at those things.

Having been completely abandoned, I left. I fled this shell of a church that would not extend its much-vaunted “community” to the likes of me. In the end, I had lost the capacity to trust, and gained…nothing. Nothing, except bitterness.

Perhaps I simply did not try hard enough. Perhaps I got what I deserved. Perhaps there is no need for me to be angry: there are far worse things that Sojourn could have done to me. But being ignored, and then persistently informed that the church is overjoyed to involve me (“We’d love to meet you”), is cruel.

There is a reason for the regrettable events I have described: I have Asperger’s Syndrome, which makes me about as capable of developing and maintaining interpersonal relationships as a turnip. However, I am not stupid enough to fail in recognizing fraud. “Community” does not exist within Sojourn Community Church, except as a buzzword. Seek it here, and you will fail; knock, and the door will be opened, then slammed shut.

“All are welcome”, states the page describing community groups on Sojourn’s website. I find that I must disagree, Sojourn. Some are welcome: not the lonely, the broken, nor the hopeless. Certainly not those on the autism spectrum.

So, what can you, my reader, do to rectify this situation? Firstly, mean what you say. Do not feign friendliness. Align your actions with the gospel of grace that you aver. In a world of hypocrites, you have been part of the problem and not the solution.

Secondly, take note of the introverts around you: the person who never speaks up in community group, the skinny young man who wanders around the narthex after Communion. Don’t simply introduce yourself: try to involve yourself in our lives. Invite us out for lunch. Nine times out of ten, we will refuse; but there is always a chance that we might be willing to take a risk and accept your attempts to show concern for us.

I should note that this is not, per se, a call for the church to do better in its ministry towards those diagnosed with Asperger’s, or even those on the autism spectrum in general; although I know firsthand that Sojourn is for all intents and purposes oblivious to us, and that this must change, I do not wish those on the autism spectrum to become the targets of some new initiative in outreach—grist for the mills of pamphlets and books describing five-point plans for “welcoming those with ASD”, complete with mnemonic acronyms. The church in the United States excels at this, but I want none of it. I do not want special treatment. I merely want to be treated as a human being.

I know that introversion is an unacceptable character trait in today’s culture. But we have the image of God imprinted on us, too. It would behoove those who call themselves “Christian” to treat us in the manner to which they were called.

Posted May 25, 2016 by swanatbagend in autism, the church

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Electronic Community?   1 comment

I object to it, because it’s a myth.

It’s ridiculous to think that having a social networking site is going to assure community, connection and relationships.

This, my friends, is impossible.

In a world where introductions have shrunk to a mere first name, soon forgotten, true, intimate relationships are difficult to build.  And, they don’t happen on a website.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Facebook.  (Most of the time; sometimes I hate it.)  That site has made many things possible.  I’ve reconnected with long-lost friends.  I would have had no other simple way to find them nor they me.  I now am able to talk with Becky from third grade in Alaska, Rosanne from fifth grade in Montana, and any number of dear friends from junior high and high school in Oklahoma.  I can keep up with current friends where I live now.  But I can only do it in black letters on a screen.  And I can only do it with people who like to sit and type black letters on a screen.  If they aren’t using the tool, I’m not connecting with them at all.

And there’s something to be said for being face to face.

For one thing, it takes a lot more time.  It takes effort to schedule a time that works for both of you.  It takes energy to get yourselves to the same location so you can be in each others’ presence.  It’s a lot of work.  It’s just easier to be at home, email when I’m ready, text if I want to, and check messages when I darn well feel like it.

And the current reality is that information is disseminated and projects organized entirely on the internet.  Churches are now set up where you get all your information online.  I just need to accept that reality and make it work.

I’m having a bit of trouble with that.  In some of the groups on my church’s website, there are almost no members.  If I go to the group and it tells me there are 2 members, 50% of whom have “engaged” today, and I can clearly see that 50 % is me, and also observe that the website’s apparent definition of “engagement” must be “turning on the internet and going to this particular website,” (because that is all I just did) frankly, I call that insane.

That is not engagement and no community was strengthened in that moment.   You can call it engagement, but saying so ain’t going to make it so.  It’s just an electronic interface.  If people aren’t using it, it doesn’t connect them.

Now, that can change.  As more people become aware of this particular group on this particular social network, it will introduce us to each other and help us help each other.

In my experience, the bottom line for relationship building is time spent together–face to face–working, talking, sharing, living alongside each other.  That is what builds relationships.  Eating dinner together, laughing, arguing, making up.  That is what brings joy, intimacy and community.  Suffering together, helping each other.  That is what matters.

I think I’m done with the internet for today.

 

 

Posted October 31, 2014 by swanatbagend in community

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