My name is Garth Young and I grew up in the Followers of
Christ Church in Oregon City. I am 41 years old, and am married to Elaine whose
maiden name is Moore. We have five children, three of whom were born while we
were attending the Church in Oregon City.
For those of you who are curious, this is the first time I
have ever written anything about the Oregon City Followers of Christ Church -
anonymous or otherwise. This is a brief
recounting in my own words of what happened to me ten years ago, when I led my
family away from the church that had been our life.
Being born and raised, and starting a family within this
group has meaning. It means this is my life; these are my people, my family and
my friends. We had a common bond not just because of the close relational
togetherness, but because we were different from those outside because of what
we practiced and how devoted we were to the assignment of following Christ.
Dedication to being a member by attendance and belief in the
church held out great potential for escaping the wrath of God and going to
heaven. This makes complete sense because nobody wants eternal punishment and
even the simplest mind can grasp the idea that good people are rewarded while
bad people are punished. As a young person I was taught from the pulpit to get
my good works in early and that would make me prepared. I still remember a time
as a boy helping stack firewood for an older couple in our church, my friend
brought up the fact that we were doing it; we were getting in our good works.
The last elder died when I was fifteen and there was no more
teaching from the pulpit. The potential hope for salvation now came down to
attending church twice a week and singing hymns – and of course, being a good
person was still a huge part of the equation. Helping people within the group
(especially when sick) was highly promoted, as was prayer and fasting, greeting
with a holy kiss, and abstaining from the services of a physician. Along with
these I had heard from an older and seemingly wise man that drunkenness, sexual
sin and killing a human would greatly hinder my chances of finding favor with
God, but most of all stay in the church.
As a result of this, a pattern began to develop within me; everyone
makes mistakes, but if I can do more good than bad, it should work out in my
favor, especially if I remain part of the church. This was my understanding of
what God wanted his people to know and to do.
There were opinions within the FOC that considered some of
the essential teachings of the church to have been radically softened over the
last twenty years. The hard lines that made up the earlier church had been
restructured as a remedy for our missing parts. Baptism, Lord’s Supper,
preaching and leadership were areas of contention because they didn’t exist
anymore. These practices disappeared due to a lack of leadership (Apostle or
Elder) to implement them. At nineteen, I was well on my way to becoming an
obstinate hardliner. Not only did I think salvation was achieved by going to the
right church and following the prescribed actions, I also believed the bar of
earning salvation needed to be raised.
I was familiar with the bible and considered myself in
agreement with the teachings of scripture. My reading however, centered on me.
My understanding of the bible was always filtered through the lens of what I
must do, and how I must continue in my own strength. I prayed for help, I
prayed for a preacher, I prayed for understanding, but really I had the idea
that faith was self mustered. There were many deficiencies in my character like
pride and anger, just to name a couple.
My assessment of the continual behavior and desires that proceeded from
my heart and mind fell far short from the calling Jesus gave to be perfect as
the father is perfect (Mat 5:48). If perfection was the requirement for
entering the kingdom, then I was disqualified at every level and so were all of
my family and friends. But if perfection
was just a target to aim at in hopes of an occasional hit, all the while
knowing I was safe because I’m part of the right church that does the right
things, I could rest. The burden of perfection was relieved because I did what
I was supposed to do. Or did I? Was it really possible that my actions could
somehow erase all the condemnation that my sin had accumulated?
Little did I know, my life was about to radically
change.
