Though You slay me, yet I will trust You

Warning Signs

  I hadn't been there very long when I first butted heads with the youth pastor. He was denoting the idea that women could be pastors. My heart sunk. The same heretical nonsense...
I quoted Scripture and he went on about women prophets. His lack of understanding was made apparent then, but I kept going.
The most head-aching moment, the time which my skin was the most dug under, was a night of divided prayer. I will admit, I had a lot to work through. It was true that at that time, I was more corrective than kind. I'll cover how that changed in another excerpt. At a round table, meant to be a prayer meeting, the discussion started heating up. I can't remember what triggered my question but I asked one girl, "Is the Son the only way to the Father"? She couldn't answer me. I became greatly concerned about what exactly these youth were being taught, even more so what they weren't. One girl closed us in prayer, saying, "-and that people would read their Bible". In context this was clearly aimed at me. A feeling of wrath and venomous words welled up in my mind, but I didn't utter a word. I went home and processed all that I had experienced. I almost didn't want to go back. What happened had made me really unnerved. I wrote a letter to the youth pastor, detailing my concerns. I later made up with this girl when only by providence I was paired up with her for prayer. The truth was, she was intimidated and a little insulted that I challenged what she so firmly believed to be true. Maybe she eventually shared the truth with that Mormon friend of hers, I don't know.
It didn't stop at the youth pastor or youth. The problems seeped into, and very evidently, the women's group. A heated chat left me not even wanting to speak to youth pastor. I ended up sitting with the women that night. If someone addressed me I could have cried, and I did. One lady showed me so much love, but it was a double edged sword. That was the first time someone spoke "Pharisee" in my direction. That word stung me to my core. Even though it hurt, I tried to honestly reflect on the impression I had made so far and make what changes I could. This began the unwinnable battle.