I grew up as a deeply committed church kid—mission trips, church camp, hands raised high in worship, youth group every Wednesday night. I’m aware of the damage this culture had on me (True Love Waits graduate over here), but I still look back on this time with fondness. In the early days, my faith felt alive. I wanted to talk about it, question it, and learn from anyone willing.

When I graduated from middle school youth group to high school, things shifted. The culture was far more hierarchical. The lead pastor wasn’t just inaccessible; he was untouchable. This was very different from our middle school pastor, who knew our names and noticed when we brought a friend. That might sound like the bare minimum, but in a large megachurch, it wasn’t.

Imagine praise and worship but with a few hundred high schoolers jumping around, smoke machines, lights, a rock band, and a long-haired pastor commanding the room. That rockstar energy didn’t stop at the stage—the only people who could really talk to the main pastor were his inner circle. That inner circle only talked to their favorite youth group leaders, and those leaders actually spent time with the students.

As the youngest of three rather independent daughters, even then I knew I didn’t like the energy of self-inflated egos, and it was hard to be around people eager to feed them.

One day, one of the inner circle leaders, a photographer, pulled me aside and said he wanted to talk to me later. When I mentioned this to my youth leader, she said something along the lines of, “I bet he wants to take your picture!” At fourteen, raised on America’s Next Top Model, I was elated at the unlikely thought that one of the chosen ones might want to take my picture. During our annual trip to the Indiana State Dunes, he finally pulled me aside.

I wasn’t expecting what he told me. I don’t think everyone can pinpoint an exact moment where they completely checked out of church. I can.

What he shared with me was “encouragement” to not turn out like my older sisters but instead to stay strong in my faith.

In one sentence, he destroyed any trust or respect I had left and confirmed every teenager’s worst fear: people are talking about you and your family. I wish I could say that didn’t bother me, but it did.

In the moment, I nodded and walked away. Mentally checked out, I stopped attending youth group regularly. Not long after, I stopped altogether. Years of regular attendance ended with one careless conversation.

If I were to talk to him today I’d let him know I did turn out like my sisters and I’m proud of that. We all have the same quick wit, hard exterior, and fierce independence. We all provide for ourselves and have overcome our own specific hardships to do so. I also have the same attitude problem, lack of patience, and tendency to speak before thinking a little too often. I wouldn’t change any of it, ever. I like being like my sisters and I always have. In fact, most of my childhood was spent trying to be just like them.

When you measure people only by what you think you see, you miss the human being entirely. And I feel sorry he missed them. I feel honored that I get to spend my life trying to be even more like them.

And, just to be clear, there’s nothing cute about a grown man telling a fourteen-year-old girl not to turn out like her sisters. I’d like to, but I don’t blame him. I see him as a mouthpiece for everything that was wrong with the church during those times. In fact, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember this conversation, and that’s perfectly fine for he’s the least important part of the story.

He did teach me something that day. He taught me that our words matter. That teenagers want to belong. When churches forget that, people leave.

Julia McKee

Julia is a 2018 graduate and studied English literature and business marketing during her time at Calvin. A Chicagoland native, she now resides in Grand Rapids, MI and works as a brand and marketing officer. She spends her free time reading fantasy novels, sweating in her gym’s sauna, renovating her almost 100-year-old house, and crafting according to her current creative fixation.