A Year Ago I Wrote a Letter
Originally published on October 22nd, 2019
To Everyone Who Read that Letter,
Hi, it’s been a minute. Last year I wrote a little letter to the Seventh-Day Adventist church. In it, I detailed my experience in the SDA church, wrote about my feelings on the non-compliance document, and shared who I believe God is. I did my best to step into a space of conflict and share as much peace as possible. And then, I put it on this here blog.
And then all hell broke loose.
After sharing the letter to my own Facebook page, a few of my friends shared it. It ended up on a Facebook group for those in support of women’s ordination, and then made it’s way to a group of pastors. Suddenly, less than 24 hours later, my website had garnered more views than ever before, and the letter itself had over 50 likes (on average, a post of mine will have between three and five likes). Adventist Today reached out to me for permission to repost the letter, and I said yes. It was shared under the title “I am Claira Eastwood, and I Am Angry.” I became known as the angry millennial who wanted to change the SDA church. Sabbath Schools around the world were reading the letter. Pastors in Australia wanted interviews. Professors at my university who I had never met emailed to say they appreciated what I had to say. And then I made the mistake of reading every comment under the AT repost.
Some people were kind. Some said they agreed with me and some wished me the best. A few even wished me happy birthday after learning that I had just recently turned nineteen. And there were others who didn’t agree with me but were kind in their disagreements. But the majority of comments were not kind. I was told I was being overdramatic. I was told the issue was not with wearing jeans or drinking coffee. I was told twinkly lights are not important. I was told I was helping no one by writing “this crap.” I was told I was wrong. I was told I was bringing division, and that I had no right to. I was told my anger was unjustified. And I read all these things while taking my first set of midterms. I read all these things on my birthday. I didn’t tell my roommate what was going on. I didn’t really tell anyone how all the words I read were affecting me. I figured I had no right to be upset. After all, wasn’t I the one who posted the words? Shouldn’t I have been more prepared for backlash?
The thing I find most ironic is, for the most part, the people who seemed most angry were the people who seemed to understand what I was trying to say. I wasn’t really writing in support of women’s ordination (even though I do believe strongly that women are called to be pastors, and they deserve to be ordained as such). To explain why I wrote the letter, I’m going to take some words from Rachel Held Evans’ book Searching for Sunday:
“It’s easy for church folks to dismiss my entire generation as fickle consumers who bail on church the minute is gets hard, but what about the young woman who left her church because it protected her abusive husband and blamed her for their divorce? Is she just a product of consumer culture? Should she be blamed for needing some time to recover from her experience? What about the family that left because their autistic child struggled with sensory overload during worship? Are they being too selfish, too demanding? And what about the college student who waits tables on Sunday mornings, or the couple who were told by their pastor that faulty parenting had made their kid gay, or the skeptic whose questions were met with platitudes, or the woman whose battle with depression just makes it too hard to get out of bed? The last thing these people need is one more person calling them failures, one more person piling on guilt and shame” (pg. 83-84).
I wrote the letter because I was tired of people being ignored by the church. I was tired of seeing people act as a barricade between someone who needs love and God. I was tired of watching men who do not have the same experience make rules for what pastors can and cannot say. I was tired of being told what I can and cannot support if I choose to call myself an Adventist. I was tired of seeing women who left abusive relationships, autistic children, college students, those with depression, LGBTQ+ people and those who love them, and those who dare to question be turned away and told they don’t belong here. They do. And no, wearing jeans, drinking coffee, and hanging twinkly lights do not mean anything by themselves. But here, in the place I live, they signify a form of acceptance and love.
If I’m going to be completely honest, I don’t go to church anymore. I find my church in the children I work with on weekends, in Tuesday night songs, in coffee dates, in prop room naps, in the WWU drama department. I find church here because it’s where I see God most. It is where I see my God, who is a God of love, most.
I tell you all of this because I believe there is still a problem. Last week, after reading the SDA church’s recent document on their stance on abortion, I reposted an article and jokingly asked if I should write another letter. But I think another letter isn’t what is needed. Kindness is what is most needed now. If I could tell everyone who read my letter one thing, it would be to be kind to one another. To think about what you consider normal, and consider if maybe that can be expanded a little bit. To think outside the box.
Lastly, I want to say thank you to the three women who marched into the comment section and stuck up for me time and time again. You showed me who I believe Jesus is. You helped restore my faith that week. When so many were yelling that anger is not okay, you told me my anger was a good thing. You continually showed me how to use it for good.
And now, I am going to return to my life of coffee, and children, and classes, and scripts. I am going to keep living this life that I believe I was supposed to live. The life I believe God has called me to. To everyone who read my letter, and everyone reading this- you are loved. You belong here. No matter what kind of comment you left under the repost, you are loved. You belong here. We all do.
Love,
Claira Eastwood