The "F" Word Part 3

This is the 3rd and final part of this series. Click here for Part 1 and here for Part 2

Returning home from Russia was difficult. In Russia, I had started to think that ATI was a cult. But Christianity was a giant question mark as well. At the time, my parents were appalled by what had happened to me. But they didn't agree with me that ATI is a cult. (They have since realized that it is.) I guess they thought I had just come across a few zealots. I struggled to convey exactly what happened, and a part of me thought I was possibly wrong. Maybe the people that said I was a horrible seductress were right. Maybe my intentions were really bad and I just didn't know. I mean the Bible does say that the heart is deceitful and desperately wicked. Maybe it was me. Maybe I was being led by my deceitful and wicked heart.  How could I really be sure? Everything I had imagined for my life was now moved to the probably not column. How could I continue living my life that way? My inner conversation with God went something like this. "I believe in you. I think I have experienced you in a way that you must be real...But people that claim to follow you are horrible. I don't think I can be a Christian. I thought I was doing everything right, but clearly I was not." I was a hypocrite and most "Christians" I knew were the same. I still lived with my parents and didn't want to deal with conflict, so I decided to just pretend that I was still a Christian, and continue attending church. 

Me with my mom and siblings at an ATI conference

My parents had always gone to ATI approved churches, but something  happened with them while I was in Russia. They started going to a church that would not have been approved by ATI. My first Sunday back home was my 20th birthday. I walked into their church pretty angry. On top of everything, I had just gone through, they wouldn't let me go see my friends at the old church. It was my birthday for crying out loud, and they made me go to their new church with them. When I walked in, the person greeting people at the door was so happy, I was positive it was phony. I think I spent the whole day rolling my eyes. Everyone at the church had heard about my parent’s daughter, "the missionary in Russia." My reputation here was the polar opposite of what I had just come from. I was sure none of them would care for me if they really knew me. I remember being afraid to make eye contact. I don't know why that was such a strong fear, but I literally kept my head down for a while. I had been shy as a child, but Russia made it a million times worse. I never approached anyone. But people approached me. I was kind of a legend, and it made me uncomfortable. People would ask me, "So what was it like in Russia?" I could hear the awe in their voices. With most people I would tell them what I thought they wanted to hear. "Oh, it was great. I loved working with the orphans. The RUSSIAN people were so amazing. I loved them."

Because of my relative fame at this new church, I met a lot of new people. I was invited to serve in the nursery pretty quickly. I was more than happy to work with the kids and I was put in the infant room. Every Sunday, I would talk with the parents as they dropped off and picked up their kids. This church was different from any I had ever gone to. People had tattoos all over their bodies. I met a few people that had been in prison. One of my first friends had been a stripper.  I started making comments to shock people and nobody was shocked by anything I said. Truthfully, they were more shocked that I had never seen certain TV shows or had a boyfriend.

These were real Christians. They weren't perfect, far from it. Some of them cussed, some were on probation, but they all knew that they needed God. I can't remember ever hearing that we needed God in ATI. I remember hearing we were imperfect and needed to strive for perfection. I remember rules and steps to follow to achieve whatever area of perfection we were striving for. But I don't think I had ever been told that it was only the grace of God that could save me. In ATI, even the definition of grace was twisted to mean, "the desire and power to do God's will." The thing that brought me back to God was not the pastor. It wasn't a sermon. It was the love of God that I felt through the people in the church. Not just toward me. I pretty much assumed they were nice to me because they thought I was special. But I watched how people treated each other. How people talked about each other. I remember listening to a leader talking to another woman that was upset with her and being rude. I remember thinking the rude woman was wrong, but the leader addressed her concerns and handled the whole situation with kindness. I asked her how she could treat her so nicely. How she took their abuse and fixed the problem without becoming angry. She told me, "Kathryn, all of us are children of God. If my sister is angry because she thinks I did something wrong when I know I did not, I have to forgive her. It's not for her benefit that I forgive her it's for my own. My responsibility is to show her the love of God. If I feel she has wronged me, I must take it to God." I felt like my head exploded. This was not what I thought of as Christianity. What happened to all the rules? Maybe I could be a Christian after all. I started reading my Bible again and listening to the sermons. I started imitating Gideon and asking God for signs. Gideon heard from God but wanted to be sure so he put a lambs fleece outside and prayed that the ground would be dry and the fleece would be wet the next morning as a sign. Then he prayed for the opposite to be sure it was God.  I took myself back to Christian preschool, learning the basics. I loved that there were so many new Christians, my questions were not looked down upon. One day I went forward for salvation. I don't even remember the sermon that day. But I knew it was real.

A few years passed. There is no such thing as perfect Christians. Some of the people that helped me find my way back to God hurt me. I've had a lot of opportunities to be offended. I carried the weight of what happened to me in Russia and other experiences for a long time. But the words the leader shared with me about forgiveness have always stuck in my head, "All of us are children of God. If my sister is angry because she thinks I did something wrong when I know I did not. I have to forgive her. It's not for her benefit that I forgive her it's for my own. My responsibility is to show her the love of God, if I feel she has wronged me I must take it to God." Several years after Russia, I got the chance to meet up with a friend that I met there. She had been peripheral in Russia. Her room was across the hall from mine and she was always nice, but we didn't cross paths much. When I was in solitary confinement, she had slipped a letter under my door saying she knew what I was going through and that she was praying for me. She tried to give me some perspective on what was happening, and told me not to lose hope. When I saw her again, she told me she had stayed connected to some of the leaders. The dean of women, Mrs. B was one of them. She had been my worst tormentor, and the person I had the most bitterness toward. My friend told me that Mrs. B had come to town and they met up. Mrs. B shared with my friend how awful she felt about the way she treated us girls. She said she had been given direction by her authorities, and was overwhelmed by that and was being held personally responsible for our behavior.

My gut reaction was. That's no excuse. We were children, she was the adult. She should have known better. For a while that's what I let myself feel.

To explain the entire process would take much more than a 3-part blog, but over time God spoke to me. He told me to write Mrs. B and apologize to her. In my heart, I knew this had to be God, because I hated her. Furthermore, I had nothing to apologize for. She wronged me, I never did anything to her. I still had not forgiven her or anyone else that had hurt me in Russia or ATI. But I couldn't get the impulse out of my head. So, I sent her a friend request on Facebook. To my surprise she accepted immediately. I waited for her to say something. She didn't. After a couple weeks I wrote her a message.

"Mrs. B, I just wanted to send you a message telling you that you were a horrible person to me. But I forgive you."

Nope, not that.

"Mrs. B, you are a miserable woman. What gave you the right? You broke me. You broke other people. You deserve to feel bad and I hope you rot in hell."

Definitely not.

"Mrs. B, I just wanted to apologize to you. My attitude toward you has been wrong for a very long time. Please forgive me."

Sent. Did I say everything I wanted to say to her? No. Would I have been justified in sending my second draft? Of course. Does that fit in with my personality? No, I feel uncomfortable even posting that I considered writing that.

After I sent the message to Mrs. B, I kind of thought she would  apologize to me too. After all, the information I had been given was that she felt bad about what she had done. We had a pleasant conversation. But she did not apologize or say anything to make me believe she had felt bad about what happened. She simply said. "Thank you, I forgive you." It's difficult to put into words how I felt after that. The weirdest thing about it was that I wasn't mad. I had decided ahead of time that if I was to apologize it would be no strings attached. I could not do it manipulatively, it had to be real. After I finished my conversation with her, I said out loud, "Mrs. B, I forgive you." When I felt upset about things that happened to me in Russia, I would forgive the person out loud. "Mr. C, I forgive you. Mr. P, I forgive you." Obviously, it was for my own benefit. I read a quote somewhere that said, " I never realized how strong I was until I had to forgive someone who wasn't sorry, and accept an apology I never received."

The thing is, I decided to forgive them and had to keep deciding. It wasn't one day to the next or 5 years later. It was and is a process. Sometimes, even recently I've had to remind myself that I have forgiven them. Forgiveness isn't letting them off the hook or saying that what they did didn't matter. It's not letting an abuser continue abusing me. Forgiveness is saying, "this horrible thing happened to me. But it's not who I am. It doesn't control me." I learned a lot from my time in Russia. Mostly about how not to lead. I don't like what happened to me and it took me a long time to come to terms with it. I wouldn't have chosen it. But now I can say that I wouldn't undo it. I'm even a little glad that I went through it. Yes, I was broken and bruised emotionally. But my experiences have shaped who I am today. 

I used to see the leaders in Russia as monsters who haunted my nightmares. But now I see them as broken people with a distorted view of God and what it means to be His children. My heart breaks for them if they still believe what they did. How hopeless must they feel? They see God as a tyrant with a stick, waiting to chastise them. But that's not who He is. The Bible talks far more about love than anger and discipline. My convictions are so much stronger now, because they were born from my Love for God, and I know He loves me. Just as I am.