Jonathan Vazquez is a youth pastor at a small church in Westminster called His Place. 67% of the people that attend this church have recovered from, or are currently recovering from, alcohol or narcotic abuse. His Place welcomes people to come as they are, breaking stereotypes by allowing people to see Jesus meet them in their pain, instead of asking them to don on appropriate church attire & get their life together before attending. Read below for an interview with Jonathan on how the image of Christianity has been corrupted today & how we can combat the negative stereotypes of Christianity. A couple weeks ago I did a message on a book called ‘UnChristian,' which analyzes research about what non-Christians think about Christianity and it was such a paradigm shifter and mind blowing kind of thing. They asked 440 non-believers to name some words or phrases that come to mind when they think of present day Christianity. The most common ones were: anti-homosexual, judgmental, hypocritical, old-fashioned, insensitive to others, and not accepting of other faiths. While I was in college and even now, my major and what I do can be more of a conversation ender than starter. 8 out of 10 people will try to end conversation once I tell them that I am a youth pastor. For example, a couple weeks ago I had a guy come up to me and start small talking. When I told him I was a youth pastor, he replied 'alright man enjoy your day' and left. There is a lot of baggage that comes with Christianity. Christianity needs to become more about relationship and discipleship than beliefs. When Jesus calls his disciples he says, “Follow me” not “Believe me," because he knows that belief will come once we begin to follow. Many Christians have a lot of negative beliefs rather than us being seen for their love. In John 13, Jesus has his last meal with his disciples. He gives them his final words on life & gives them a new commandment to love one another, explaining that their love for one another will prove to others they are Jesus' disciples. He is saying that love is the biggest evangelistic tool to witness to world. In our North American culture, we have not made Christianity about love. We are known a lot more for being judgmental. There’s something important that’s missing here. When you’re in your 20s, you have a lot of insecurities . I personally have always cared a lot about what people thought about me and since I have had a good amount of negative experience when I shared about my faith, there is a lot of fear in sharing. One time I took a student out for coffee and when the barista asked what I do, I told him I worked for a nonprofit. When I left, the student asked why I didn't tell him I was a pastor. I replied that I was scared of the reaction he would give me because I let the fear of what others would think of me overpower me. There are days when I can be confident in myself and what God has called me to do, and there are other days where I am timid. The senior pastor at our church worked in recovery and was actually an alcoholic himself. Our tagline or vision statement is “His Place is a perfect place for imperfect people." We are all about accepting people where they are at and most people are amazed by the type of people we are attracting. 67% are from AA, NA, or ALANON, actively working through or have worked through recovery in some sort of capacity. A lot of church experience has been that you have to have your act together before you step in a chapel. We believe that all should come as they are. His Place is unlike anything you’ve ever come to. A man came to my church when I was sixteen and called me out. He told me that God wanted to tell me I was going to be ministering to young people that are very broken and that I would have the opportunity to speak into their lives. So that was what launched the idea of being in ministry, it just felt right. After that seed got planted in my heart, everything fell into place. In college I studied religion with an emphasis in pastoral leadership and then spent a month volunteering at His Place. I was then offered my current job without even having to apply. There was so much fear in me of not wanting to take this on. I'm so young and have a lot of head knowledge but not a lot of experiential knowledge. I'm still growing as a person holistically and don't have a recovery background so working at a recovery church just seemed like 'why would I do that?' But I spent two or three days intentionally praying about it and I heard a voice that told me "Jonathan I trust you with it." I felt safe and comfortable that he trusted me so then I could trust myself. A lot of my friends and even I felt that I wasn't equipped well enough for this job. I sometimes think there has to be someone who has like eight more years to be doing my job. But this is something that God has called me to and a calling isn’t dependent on what I think or what others think...it's what God thinks. Every morning I will spend an hour hanging out with Jesus, in a way that is different than what most people will think of when they think of devotional time. I also do centering prayer in the morning and in the afternoon when I get home. I intentionally make time for personal devotional time (learning things and expressing things with God) in addition to professional devotional time (preparing for leading). I try not to do too much because I don't want to make even my quiet time about productivity and distract myself. I don't want to miss out on actually sitting and being with Jesus. I think when I meet God, I won't want to ask a question or say something profound to him. I’m mostly excited about being able to actually embrace my Savior. Ministry can be very frustrating because you see a lot going on with these kids and you want to fix them. But when they trust you, it's such a joy. Recently I interacted with a kid named Tyler who has never come to church & in service he decided to follow Jesus. The next week he brought his stepsister & mom to church and they accepted Christ. The week after, Tyler brought his stepbrother to church and he also accepted Christ. To be a minister means to be a small part in the process and to get to partner with God in what he’s doing and redeeming in students and in the world. I get to change culture and lead in changing culture. All these students don’t know what it means to be a family or what it means to love and I get to pastor them, which includes just hanging out and modeling for them what it means to love and be in relationship . It's so cool when you can see them changing and growing. When you go into this kind of work, you’ll never be as prepared as you want, but you just kinda gotta go for it. And schooling and training, while helpful, are not that important because God will equip you.
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10/22/2016 2 Comments new poemLet’s get out of here and hang our worries on the clothes hangers that are breaking under our burdens. Let’s put our fears on a boat and wave them goodbye saying “they grow up so fast.” Let’s quest for a world where we don’t have to fight for our lives, where we won’t look at our hands and see blood. Let’s climb back into our mothers and breathe in our nonexistence. Let’s hide from each other, in each other. We should find ourselves, but not too quickly okay? See, answers are simple and usually written in the ways our freckles gather together, but I want to search. I want to revel in revelation. So, ask me a question and click ballpoint pens into my bloodstream. Drain me of the time my mother dropped me when I was young. Hang me from the ceiling and insult my God. Stick a needle into my arm and pump air through me until I say something honest for once. Bring honor back to my family. Interrogate and electrocute me and fight fear with fire until you are kneeling in a red puddle of wonder, your hands up high, sewn to an invisible man’s sweaty palms. Look, you are saved. Let’s be honest. Blood is beautiful and pain is pretty. This world is a lonely mother sending love letters to herself and we are the only ones who love her enough to end it. You sit with her on this cold tile floor and it feels like the time your girlfriend launched a rock into your throat. She thought she was saving you. She drowned you in the bathtub while the candles were dancing and God was watching and he was trying to lead you to the fire extinguisher he packed in your bag. As you lay there, water bubbling in your lungs and gurgling out your throat and lies resurfacing and truth pouring from every crevice, you were marinating in it. As you lay there dying, you thought how beautiful it looks when we are saved. Now, listen to that song you play when your heart is shattering. When you are sad, do you ever feel like you need to hug the notes? Swallow the chords until they feel whole again? You are a savior so you wonder if depression is a fallen angel or a perfect A student that let loose one night. You wonder if punishers need saviors or if punishers are saviors or if saviors are supposed to punish themselves. You are back in that bathtub. The water is filling the room and you reach out towards the slippery knobs. You are looking for a pen. You are looking for answers. You want her to know what it feels like to be saved. Let’s try to write a poem about what it means to be honest. Let’s discover a word that will shake someone out of themselves, let’s tell the truth: you want to save them all. Let’s be honest: you can’t. The earthquakes under your skin are distracting, you can’t focus, you can’t find that damn word. You find yourself kneeling in a red puddle of wonder, your hands sewn around an invisible man’s throat. You are saved, but you don’t like it. It’s too easy and too hard at the same time. All you feel are the words that won’t come and the love that is tickling your nose but running away. You are a worry hanging on a hook, a world isolated in fear of contamination, bloody hands that don’t know what to say sorry for. You are a question, an answer, and a poem with too many words.
But, slow your breath so you’re harmonizing with that song you play when your heart is shattering. Ask it how you are supposed to make yourself small enough to understand. See, you think maybe there is no truth, no quest, maybe there is nothing to search for. Your mother has disappeared and when the police interrogate you, you can’t remember what color the walls of her insides were. Look, there is no bathtub. There is no fire. There is just your knees wet in a red puddle of wonder and your hands sewn to themselves. There is no invisible man. You think maybe you want to find yourself, but not too quickly. So you ask God to lock you in a musicbox your grandfather gave you. You ask him to throw you in the water and look away. You don’t want to be saved. You want to search. |