New Voices: By and about young adults

I used to preach. Not in front of churches from a pulpit, although I did that on occasion, too, but in speeches, articles and conversations.

I would loudly assert my intelligence through big words and convincing facts I cherry-picked and covered it all with an emotional pull, declaring our moral obligation. I would preach against war, destruction of the environment, economic injustice, exploitation, oil-dependence and waste, to name a few. I would speak for peace, environmental conservation, living wages and affordable housing, human rights, alternative energy, reusing and recycling. Honestly, I would speak loudly on most subjects if the opportunity presented itself––I had abundant opinions on the church and theology and how we should best be the church, about higher education and organizational systems, about the U.S. political system and large businesses that monopolized trade at the expense of workers and the environment. I was passionate for what was good in the world and passionately against what I felt was wrong in the world.

My outspoken nature likely led the editors of The Mennonite to ask me to contribute to this column. This being my third and final piece for the year, I wondered how I should end my contributions. My first column spoke of living in the present moment, and my second spoke about being human, neither very “preachy.” I considered whether it was time to preach, perhaps about what’s right and wrong with the church and how it should be changed. I know many people are eager to hear a young adult’s perspective. I wrote a draft of that article, but I couldn’t submit it––that’s not me right now.

Over the last year, as I’ve transitioned from living in London to Harrisonburg, Va., I’ve experienced what I call the “downward spiral of grace.” I’ve suffered discomfort, depression, loneliness and aching confusion and chaos. I have felt wounded and weak emotionally, mentally and spiritually. The transition from London wasn’t the only cause for this, but it did serve as a catalyst for my journey through darkness. I’ve discovered that the downward spiral I experienced and am still experiencing was and is in some ways a spiral of grace. The spiral crushed my overinflated opinion of myself and my accomplishments and crushed any weak supports I had constructed for myself that weren’t built on solid rock. The downward spiral, despite its unwelcome intrusion and accompanying pain, provided me with opportunities to purge what is not healthy, what is not from God, what does not promote life.

This “downward spiral of grace” is probably one of many reasons why I don’t preach much these days. As I’ve settled in Virginia, I’m also now surrounded by the very people for whom I advocated when I preached. With a new job and new neighborhood, I now work and live alongside those struggling daily with poverty and violence. My community includes those who experienced trauma from which they may never fully heal. I eat lunch with friends who struggle with loneliness, pain and chaos on a daily basis. I try to walk with people drowned in alcoholism or lost in a cycle of any number of addictive behaviors. I’ve found my brothers and sisters that I didn’t have time for before and am learning I need them, just as much as I need my more stable friends.

Through my community I have been blessed to see and experience a fuller demonstration of the kingdom of God. Through these experiences and likely many others I haven’t yet considered, I have mellowed significantly and am often now listening more than preaching. I certainly haven’t lost my passion, but my actions and responses have changed. Maybe one day I’ll preach again. Preachers are needed. But in the meantime, I’m sure others will take my place and provide the needed passionate voice of advocacy for justice and peace.

I agreed to contribute to this column in part because I appreciated the ego boost and the platform to preach. It’s easy for me to preach, and my ego loves receiving the praise and strong reactions to a good “sermon” I preach. That’s why it’s hard for me to write this unglamorous article. But I’d like to be done with my ego now. I’m not preaching anymore because I’m too busy putting one foot in front of the other, trying to live with integrity in my own actions––converting my big words into small actions I take every day.

Holy God, grant me your wisdom and strength as I journey this downward spiral of grace.

Sharon Kniss attends Early Church, a Menno­nite congregation in Harrisonburg, Va.