Why I'm Tired of Being Considered Selfish

Hi there. I'm a millennial. I was born in 1990 and therefore fall dead center in our generation. I'm over-educated, underpaid, and I have smartphone. I like to think I'm a pretty good representation of what millennials have to offer.

I have a curve-ball to throw your way, though. I'm a millennial but, and hold on tight (perhaps you should sit down), I am not selfish.

Wait a minute. I'm supposed to only care about "Me Me Me?" I don't think I got the memo.

There are a lot of reasons why millennials get called selfish but there is one in particular I would like to talk about today. What has really been grating on me lately is just how often my ideas get labeled as selfish when I try to discuss ways I can be taken care of, or mention that I have needs at all.

Last year Jenny and I attended a Young Adult Forum to discuss how the church can better reach and interact with young adults. One of the things both of us feel very strongly about is the fact that in the church young adults are few and far between and there is very little effort on the part of the older leadership to give young adults opportunities for community, or even just spiritual sustenance. The church has a large focus on children and youth but the moment you hit 18 or graduate college suddenly there is nothing for you. There is a gap where those between 20-30 seem to have no place in the church, especially those who are unmarried or do not have children. This age group is often invited to volunteer for the church and to help minister, something most do gladly (myself included), but it is very rare for this age group to ever be intentionally ministered to.

As I said there is also very little opportunity for community. There's tons of kids activities where the kids of the church can get together and do kid things. Then there's "adult" church activities where I could go if I wanted to be the only person without any white in my hair and have my thoughts and opinions disregarded due to my age. We need some sort of a middle ground. One common concern is that my much more liberal generation is afraid of being judged and excluded by a much more conservative older generation like we have so many times before. We need safe space to talk with like minded people without being told that our ideas are bad and we are only considering anything so liberal because we lack life experience. In the polarized political climate of our country the church has done a terrible job at being welcoming to anybody not willing to believe that Christian and conservative or Republican are synonymous.

Example: If I were to say "perhaps religious groups should not be able to decide legal policy regarding marriage and reproductive rights for the general population. Maybe it's not our job to make sin illegal, but to focus on combating sin within our own lives." You are correct, older generations. Clearly these ideas will send me to hell.

When it comes to young adults and the church there are two major problems to be face: burn-out and lack of interest. Young adults are leaving the church in droves and some come back in their 30s, but not nearly enough for a sustainable church long-term.

On the one hand we have young adults who find nothing in the church worth staying for. They aren't interested. Either they feel it has no relevance to their life or they view the church as full of dogmatic and hateful hypocrites or they just don't feel they fit in. The church really needs to get it together when it comes to reaching out to this group. Right now the majority of my generation would probably fit in this group.

Then on the other hand you have those of us who are deeply committed to the church. We are youth pastors and volunteers, we teach classes, we lead programs, we give and we give and we give. Unlike much of our generation this group is willing to put up with all the downsides and take the good despite the bad. But this group is small and they are overworked and under cared for. This group is also leaving the church. This group is burning out. These young adults give and give out of love for God and whenever they try to express their own needs they are told they are being selfish. Eventually people run out of givingness. Eventually no level of commitment can withstand being worked without needs ever being met, without ever being spiritually fed. Eventually these people just can't take it anymore.

How dare I have needs of my own? How could I ever want to be spiritually fed? Dang I'm selfish.

What really kills me is when people try to use my faith against me. Sometimes I get so fed up with life in a faith where much of what I think or feel would be judged if I were honest about it. Sometimes I think about leaving the church because there's nothing worth staying for. I know the response to this is "you're just being selfish, Chris. You just want to leave because we're not pandering to you. You just want to be comfortable! You say there's nothing worth staying for? The point is Jesus. If you're not staying for him your faith sucks anyway." What's that you say? Jesus is the point? Maybe what I'm getting at here is that I'm not finding Jesus in the church. And without Christ what reason do I have to stay? Either make this a place where I can be nurtured in a relationship with Jesus or be prepared to lose me someday.

It comes down to the fact that the older generation isn't affected by the same negatives that I'm talking about. To them the church is fine. Just what they want. So I'm selfish to want anything other than the way things are.

It doesn't affect the people in charge so why should they care?

In the end what really gets to me is that I think trying to take care of myself is one of the most unselfish things I can do. I eat well, stay fit, and drive safe because I want to stay healthy because if I do my wife will be alone and that will be terrible. I take breaks and I get full nights of sleep so I will have the energy to give myself wholly to my job. Just like I need to eat healthy food and get enough sleep I also need enough spiritual sustenance. But I'm not getting it. Burn out is a very real concern in my life and I never want to reach a point where I don't think the church is worth staying with.

If I'm going to stick around and continue giving my all in service I need to have my needs met as well. I need to be cared for. I need to matter. And that's not selfish. That's just honest.

Intro to Natalie

    Hello, my name is Natalie Groff, not Gorf, contrary to what a certain communist would have you believe. I've been married to my high school best friend's older brother Wendell for three years and a stay-at-home-mom to Wendell, Jr. and, come this March "Pipsqueak". Sorry, you'll all just have to wait like the rest of the world to find out his name!
    I am one of the founding members of Tribe, though to be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure how it all started. I suppose for me it all started on an early autumn evening when I found myself chatting with a guy who was cradling an open laptop in his arms. I happened to notice bold words on his desktop background that instantly bonded me to him in friendship: Don't Panic. Yes, I completely owe my friendship with Chris to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
    That first semester of college was an amazing period of growth for me. As our group began to take shape, I was overwhelmed by the sense of complete acceptance. That's not to say that we were always in perfect agreement.I remember on several occasions getting frustrated and upset over something someone had said. Even as I felt myself heat up, I could feel my heart sinking. I was certain that someone was going to patronizingly say, "Calm down, Natalie. It's really not that big a deal." Instead, Jenny would laugh and say, "Natalie, you're so funny when you get upset!" I suppose for most people this comment would only serve to further fuel one's fury, but her spontaneous laughter and delight completely confused me and deflated my anger. I could get angry and not feel rejected by my friends? The realization was so overwhelming that I could feel myself slowly start to heal from the agony of high school.
    Apart from the misery of being separated from my dear Wendell, those first two semesters at Houghton were some of the best of my life. I loved always knowing I had somewhere to sit in the cafeteria (the large table as far back in the center section as you could get) and amazing people to sit with. I still can't believe how much fun we had. I would often laugh so hard that it hurt. No, really. I once got a mild concussion from throwing my head back in laughter and slamming it into an inconveniently placed podium. Tribe also stretched me in ways I could never have imagined. Besides the fact that we all came from extremely different backgrounds and beliefs, I think it's reasonably safe to say that I was the most conservative member of our group. I've always considered myself to be fairly moderate in my views of the world. It didn't take long for me to realize that compared to a communist or anarchist, I was very conservative indeed!
    My third semester, the first of our Sophomore year, didn't go quite as well for me personally. Tribe itself was as awesome as ever. I was thrilled to be reunited with my friends and to get to know newer members of our all-inclusively exclusive group. My body, however, didn't seem to cooperate with me. I distinctly remember being so fatigued while moving into my dorm room that it was an effort just to walk, let alone help carry my own stuff. I felt better after a few days, but then a few weeks later I was back to feeling lousy. This pattern continued all the way into November. It certainly didn't help that I was over taxing myself by taking on a second major, 18 credits, and worked a couple hours a week. Oh, and four of those 18 credits just happened to be Statistics. I was thrilled when I managed to get a C, though I think pity on the part of the professor may have had something to do with that. In addition to all that, Wendell proposed on October 16, so of course I missed him more than ever and couldn't stop thinking about wedding planning.
    Needless to say, my body was so run down, I was in no shape to withstand the swine flu epidemic of 2008. About one week before Thanksgiving break, I found myself in quarantine. Interesting little side note: with one guy in the townhouse, we were the only co-ed housing on campus. After several days of ignoring my homework and playing Zelda on my laptop, my symptoms subsided and I decided to attend one class. By the time we took a break half-way through, I was so exhausted I couldn't even take notes. We went out into the hall for a few minutes and, as always, I gravitated toward Tribal members in the class. Joe was offering someone crackers when I reached out to take a few. After all, we were friends, so why would he deny me? As I extended my hand, Joe withdrew his and asked, "Whoa, are you still swine flu-ey?"
    Now, in his defense, not only was he joking around but it was also a legitimate question. Unfortunately for him, I had been prescribed Prednisone, an anti-inflammatory and immunosuppressive steroid. With my history of asthma, I was all too familiar with my personal side effects: mild hysteria. I immediately burst into tears and insisted that I was no longer contagious. Poor Joe. I still remember the look of embarrassed bewilderment on his face as a slumped to the floor and sobbed!
    This incident made it pretty apparent that I needed a little more than a few days off. That night, Wendell drove the 3 1/2 hours up to Houghton with a friend to come rescue me. After Thanksgiving break, I returned to school. It had taken me two weeks to mostly recover and I was determined to finish the semester. My professors were all very understanding and accepted my late work with very little trouble.
    Christmas break was a welcome relief, but one week before it was time to return, I confided in my mom that while I was physically feeling better, I was still emotionally exhausted from the prior semester. "So take the semester off," was her instant response. The thought had never occurred to me. I could actually do that? I immediately understood the necessity of such a course of action and from there it wasn't such a long leap to a previously unthinkable decision: transferring to another college. I loved Houghton, I loved my roommate, and I loved Tribe. But I didn't want to wait another two years before I got married!
    From that decision everything fell into place. I transferred to a local state university, changed my major, eventually got a part-time job, and Wendell and I set our wedding date for October 16, 2010, exactly one year after he proposed.
    I came back to visit a couple of times and while I loved how I still felt belonging to Tribe, it just wasn't the same. There are so many experiences and jokes that I missed out on. Oh, the fury I felt when I realized that their graduation was the same day as mine! Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't regret the decisions I made. Looking back I can clearly see how God used everything and how He's still working in me today. But I sometimes still find myself wondering, what if I had stayed? A futile question, of course, but one that on a rare occasion still comes back to haunt me. But now, with the advent of this blog, it is my sincere hope that I will not only maintain my connection to Tribe but that I will also be reminded of the amazing, lasting friendships I made during my all-too-brief time at Houghton.