Topher’s Story
Share a story about a time you were struggling, and someone truly saw you and shared God's love with you:
Divorce is never easy for a kid, and when you layer in addictions, guilt, mental health issues, and various forms of abuse, it becomes - messy, which is why I was so grateful for my school. Throughout that season of my life, I went to a Christian school and subsequent church, and in the worst moments of it all, even though most would never know the full extent of my experiences, I felt supported. School and church quite literally became my sanctuary, and I was so grateful for a peaceful space amidst the raging chaos of my life.
About a month into my seventh-grade year, the principal called me to his office, sat me down, and began asking questions about my family. I didn't think anything of it, but then he asked me if it was true that my mom was living with her boyfriend. I answered yes. He looked at me over the tops of his glasses and said, I am sorry to hear that, Christopher, and then he proceeded to call my mom with me staring at him, not understanding what was happening.
He informed her that I was no longer welcome to attend school unless she got married by the end of that weekend. Then, after he hung up, he walked me to the front of the school and said that he had hoped my mom would make the right decision - and then he left me there.
He just left me there.
In an instant, my safe place was gone. For three years, I had listened to lessons and sermons about caring for people and being the hands and feet of Jesus, yet somehow, I was being punished for something I had no control over.
That evening in my room, I swore off God, Christians, and the church. When my mom said they would get married that weekend so I could go to school, I told her not to. I was angry. It was the final straw for me. I already couldn't comprehend why God would allow so much stuff to happen to me, and now the people who were "supposed" to care for me told me I wasn't welcome.
What followed was many years of trial and error. New pains like my grandfather dying, my brother having multiple prison stints, fights, drug use, and being arrested for shoplifting at Disneyland were just a few of the valleys for me. However, there were a lot of good things as well. I had great friends, played football, excelled at photography and dramatic arts, and had a lot of freedom.
As my senior year drew to a close, it was clear I would not be graduating because of the various choices I had made. I was disgusted with myself, deeply ashamed, and could not comprehend why I should be alive. So, I did what any 18-year-old would do. I walked to the youth minister's house, who I knew lived around the corner from me at ten at night, and asked if we could talk.
He said, of course, and for about 3 hours, I unleashed 18 years' worth of pain, frustration, anger, sadness, and doubt. I blamed God; I blamed him; I blamed my family, religious people, Christians, and the church. I cursed, threatened, and yelled.
And he just listened to me.
He listened to me talk, yell, cry, and whimper. He didn't try and make excuses; he didn't get defensive; he didn't try and fix anything - he just listened. There was no judgment in his eyes or push back; he just listened, and he looked at me with what I came to learn was compassion.
He told me he was sorry. Sorry for how "the church" had treated me. Sorry that I had to endure so much in my life up to that point. He apologized for things that were not his fault, but in that space of raw emotion, he took responsibility for the hurt and pain in my life on behalf of Jesus. On behalf of the church.
My anger, wounds, and questions didn't suddenly disappear at that moment, but something was - different. That night, in the early morning hours, grace began to break through.
Six later, Doug was able to be at my ordination, and we talked about that evening. He told me something I think I already knew about how he saw me that night. He said he didn't see me as some unhinged individual looking to fight, as someone too far gone, or as a project; he saw me as I was. Hurting, searching, with untapped potential, and needing someone to show them the genuine grace, hope, and love of Jesus.
Some 20+ years later, I continue to witness one fundamental truth. God never wastes a hurt. My most profound and painful moments have been redeemed. I have learned that my most prominent scars often help bring the most healing to others. So, in a way, I get to continue what Doug first demonstrated to me. To sit with people wherever they are on their journey and show them the grace, hope, and love of Jesus.