It’s been a while since my last post, I’ve been pretty non stop the past few weeks so I apologise to anybody waiting for a follow up. I want to look back to my final week at Struthers, which happened to be at the August Summer Camp in Gartmore.
Camps for Struthers is the big event of the year, all members from across the UK and some further afield gather at a small village in Scotland for a week of worship and dedication. It’s something every member of the church is expected to attend despite the cost. A few hundred pounds a head for on site accommodation, meetings and food. The camps last Monday through to Friday, with three meetings a day. Morning prayer time, morning worship service and then an evening worship service. For this camp week I opted not to stay on site due to previous experiences, which I will share in due course however I’m not quite ready for that yet. One day.
I rented a wee cabin 5 minutes along the road, I could take Cole with me and bunked with a close friend who knew of my struggles. It was a beautiful spot just to relax.
At this stage I had stopped going along to Cumbernauld branch due to a member of the congregation making derogatory remarks about my personal character. I no longer felt comfortable to be in their presence. Yet I didn’t feel ready to break ties with the church as a whole, I was hoping for a miracle. I’d started going along on Sunday evenings to Falkirk where I didn’t know many people, a few youngsters but I was able to relax in the meetings and not feel paranoid about the people around me. Personally I felt this was a better move than stopping my attendance at meetings all together. A few other young people from Cumbernauld asked to come along with me to Falkirk as there were more young folks there age. I was unsure to begin with as I wasn’t keen to have anymore issues with people from Cumbernauld however their father reached out and asked if I would take them along. This was because the youngsters were thinking of leaving church altogether and as such Falkirk meetings were better than nothing. So I was happy to take them along.
At this camp I reached out to one of the youth leaders from Cumbernauld to catch up given I hadn’t been around much and I was a nervous wreck when they responded. Rather than the casual catch up I had hoped for, I was asked if I could be available for a chat. My heart was racing, a chat. Why on earth did she want a chat. My anxiety was through the roof. I’d also reached out to the pastor of Cumbernauld to touch base and explain why I hadn’t been around. But was met with no response. The youth leader proceeded to tell me that they thought it a good idea they both spoke with me and again I was shook. I didn’t understand what this could be about.
Looking back now I see that my life has always been plagued with anxiety. I never knew that at the time but I was suffering terribly badly during my time at SMC with anxiety. Mostly anxiety over how I would meet expectations, how I would be the best Christian I could be, the person they expected. That high standard I could never meet. It constantly fed my anxiety and it was the most difficult period of my life. I was trapped and felt completely useless.
This camp was the ultimate test of my anxiety. Because the ‘chat’ wasn’t to take place until after Wednesday night. They set the time up for Thursday morning, meaning I spent three whole days trying to work out what it was about, preparing myself for the unknown. It was torture. I asked if we could speak earlier but was told it would be best to wait until after Wednesday night so that everything was a bit lighter and the presence of God was stronger. Well I tell you now that I got absolutely nowhere in those meetings. I sat like a nervous wreck the entire of camp.
The previous year I had gone through some Wednesday night trauma, to be delved into at a later date. That’s one you won’t want to miss. So I spent the Wednesday up in the hills with Cole. I was exhausted and decided I wouldn’t put myself through that meeting. So I spent the night in with Cole watching some tv. It was lovely. But the anxiety over the next day still loomed. I was still no further forward in knowing what the ‘chat’ was about.
I had a pretty reckless nights sleep. But got up, went to the meeting and again it was pointless
being there. My head was fried. Finally, the longest meeting ever, at least in my head, finished. I sat around afterwards waiting. Twenty minutes passed and the pastor was still busy with others. I think I waited about 40 minutes for them to come over, making small talk to some friends to pass the time. I was sweating buckets, shaking, legs bouncing. And they both approached, with those fake smiles on their faces. They sat down the two of them facing me. I was back at school getting into trouble.
They shocked me with what came next. They felt it was strange I was attending Falkirk branch, members of the church don’t just change branch. It wasn’t normal. I broke down, absolutely outraged that they had made me feel like this over something they could have spoke to me about on day one. The two of them sat there lecturing me, I sat patiently waiting for a chance to speak. Trying to work out how to explain. I got those angry tears you get when it gets too much. I was 25 years old being treated like a child.
I got my voice eventually and told them I wasn’t at Cumbernauld due to the things that had been said about me by members of the congregation. That I could not sit and relax knowing that this person was in the same room as me, watching my every move. Stalking my Facebook profile and making snide remarks about photos I had in there with friends. Of course the pastor said they knew nothing of these accusations but they understood why it would hurt. There was then some sympathising with the individual causing the hurt, they had a lot going on etc. they understood why I was hurt but were sitting justifying the behaviour of this individual. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Then criticising how I handled a young persons personal situation they opened up to me about. That I should have shut down any hints of homo sexuality, yet this young person felt suicidal. I was to condemn their feelings. Betray their trust.
It was more than I could handle. I couldn’t be that person. I couldn’t condemn anyone for how they felt, their sexuality. It was something I was silently passionate about. I had amazing family members who were part of the LGBT community, I would never judge or condemn. Never. So here I was being scolded now for my views on LGBTQ.
I’d had enough. This was the final straw for me. Jesus told us that the greatest commandment of all was to love one another. There was no man and woman in that statement. It was simple. To love. Who are we as human beings to judge.
I told the pastor and youth leader that I couldn’t stand by their views, that I would be finding another church. At that they both wished me well. I have never seen either of them since and don’t intend to.
This experience is one that drove the final nail in the coffin so to speak. I could see the controlling side of them now. Nobody was welcome who held an opinion other than theirs. Even those who wished to continue in a church despite feeling attacked, many people I know in Struthers move around branches most commonly those in Greenock and Glasgow. Cumbernauld is not like them though, it’s a very narrow viewed clique of people who believe they have been blessed above others. Nothing outwith their opinions matter, every member is drilled into their beliefs and must follow in line of be cast out.
I now see that place for what it is, a cult and I hope and pray everyday that another person wakes up to see them for what they are. Hopefully this may help one of them open their eyes. You are a person, you have a voice and nobody not even SMC should dictate to you on how you feel. Be you. That’s the only you that God created.