God is still working in people like me

Fear was a huge part of my childhood and not the healthy fear. I was afraid of school, afraid of what friends might think of me, afraid of my family, my grandmother, my mom and her whole side of the family. I was afraid of everybody and everything, but the Lord it seemed.

I was raised as an Algonquin/Mohawk in the Canadian capital city of Ottawa. I stress the urban part of my life because I think this was the biggest difference that separated my brother and me from both reserves. My mom’s reserve was Kahnawake just outside of Montreal and my dad’s reserve Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg was about 90 minutes north of Ottawa.

My mom is Roman Catholic and so was her mom. I imagine my great grandmother was Catholic as well. So we attended church for a while. My father, although baptized, does not practice Catholicism. I remember my father never attending mass. In my teens, I found out he attended those horrendous Residential Schools; one in Northwestern Ontario, the other one in the province of Quebec. Plus, I remember some friends at age 12 making an absolute mockery of the church. And so by age 12, I stopped caring about God.

I don’t remember too much of my childhood, but I remember being afraid most of the time. The fear never left even through high school: fear of crowds, fear of bullies, fear of the opposite sex, fear of life, fear of failing, and this caused hopelessness. It was technically called social anxiety, but I mostly remember the depression and how life was pointless to me.

And so when I went into university (I somehow did well enough in my English classes to get in), I had these problems: anxiety, substance abuse, not knowing myself, and yet thinking that I was somehow still in control and knew how the world worked. I started university as a heavy alcohol drinker, enjoying the relaxation and humor in marijuana, and smoking cigarettes like my so-called Native pride depended on it. But, most importantly, I was still afraid of life. I was lost, plain and simple.

Through my depression, isolation, and anger, I began reading philosophy my first summer back from university. I read anything in the tiny philosophy section in the small public library. The end of the summer came around, and I picked philosophy courses to compliment my Indigenous Studies degree. I do not regret this and actually believe philosophy helped me write, read, and think better in order to survive university.

It was in a moral philosophy class that I had a chance to reflect on issues concerning right and wrong. I slowly came to understand some flaws in my own thinking. Not all issues were black and white. And religious people could certainly stand up for their beliefs in class. And then there was euthanasia (to put it simply, where a person ends the life of a suffering person). I researched the topic and argued in favor of it before I became a Christian. I’m not proud of this and have obviously changed my stance, but it is an extremely complex issue whatever your beliefs are. While I was arguing in favor of euthanasia, I was given a book by Beth, my future wife. It was Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.

The book didn’t “save me,” but it certainly paved the way to humbling me in order to treat other issues of faith with the same respect as any other moral philosophy text. Like many people who have read the book before me, I was forced to think about myself, my limitations, and my search for meaning. It exposed my assumptions and faith in other created things and ideas. Although I still had questions on many aspects of faith (the book was born out of World War Two in London, England), I knew I needed God and He was close by. I did not hear God or feel Him, but I somehow knew that He was close.

It was late at night on Friday, the 27th of February 2009, when I finally gave in and became a Christian. I guess you can say it was a little like C. S. Lewis’s experience of becoming a follower of Christ. He felt like one of the last Englishmen in England dragging his feet, kicking and screaming until giving in to the Lord.

Well, that was me, minus the Englishness. It felt like I was the only Native in Canada in his 20s kicking and screaming before worshiping Christ. I wish I could say I celebrated, but I knew there would be some struggles ahead. The struggles are related to heritage, university, and living in cities with their many wonders, horrors, and distractions.

The problem was that my decision affected not just me, but others around me. How am I going to explain this religion to my family, friends, and people in my program? How can I talk about the faith knowing that the religion hurt the Elders and people I was studying with, as well as my own family members and friends? How could I say Jesus is the only way and not be chastised by the people I know? How was I supposed to believe in the many miracles in the Bible that were not addressed in Mere Christianity? All these questions ultimately were based in fear; fear of not being in control and the loss of acceptance.

Coming from a secular standpoint, I think some young adults and adolescents watch and listen to pop culture and believe all the crazy ideas people have about Christians. Popular documentaries, stand-up comedians, and popular cartoons are absolutely devastating for the youth on matters of the Christian faith, if they have nobody to talk to about the subject matter.

Being a student with a computer, watching whatever I wanted, I had nobody to talk with over what was being said about Christians. So I believed the messages. Perhaps this happens much more than young people and even adult non-believers care to admit. Attitudes would change if people would simply talk to educated and faithful Christians.

Despite these early issues, I would eventually stop smoking weed. Quitting marijuana was easy, because after a few years of smoking it, out of nowhere I started feeling paranoid. There is still no reasonable explanation of why this happened. Quitting smoking cigarettes, however, was a bit more difficult, but I managed. Three days seems to be what a lot of people say is the magic number and then it gets easier. This was true. However, it was easier to quit smoking marijuana and cigarettes than it was to quit consuming excessive amounts of alcohol.

It took almost a month to have only one drink and then stop for the evening. It continues to be tough, because intoxication put a minor stop to the anxieties, fears, and the depression for a few hours.

Some people change overnight, but some of us don’t. This is okay. God is still working in people, like He does with me. No Christian is perfect; we all have our problems to be worked out with God. But it makes no sense to give up on the faith because one is not perfect, even though it’s tempting to do.

I understand grace and how my faith is in Christ. But, back then I had a case of what I call the “SuperChristian.” You know the person, the one that tries to be really good, shuns friends, and wants to get into heaven with their own goodness. I started feeling guilty when I wasn’t good enough, when I would make a mistake (like all humans do). The Book of James says my faith is dead if I don’t do good deeds along with faith. The faith at that point was turning out to be harder than I thought. I had limited knowledge of the Holy Spirit and was treating this new religion as a philosophy, where humans try really hard to be good, by themselves. When it became too hard to do this, I began dreaming of the old days before I became a Christian. My old life looked sweeter.

On top of these experiences, I did not attend church. This was a mistake on my part. I read the New Testament and read some Christian books to help me. If I didn’t have these books to read, I probably wouldn’t be a Christian right now. However, there’s no substitute for church. There’s a lot to complain about church as a new Christian: the church experience was foreign to me, these churches had no Indigenous people in them, and the music was bad. It seemed like all the Indigenous people who followed Jesus were Catholic and over 50 years old. Again, I felt like I was the only Native Christian in his 20s on the planet.

I felt like assimilation was inevitable. And some Canadians and Americans ask: what’s wrong with that? It’s because assimilation is a dirty word for Indigenous people. It represents all of the attempts in the past to have us live like white people because ‘Indians’ were simply not as good as white people. And now, some people believe that since Indigenous beliefs and ways of living did not die, it is our supposed duty to practice what was protected; or else, the person is turning their backs on their ancestors. This was another black and white issue. Was there ever a middle ground?

For the summer of 2009, this represented my faith. It was awkward, it wasn’t practiced by the majority of Indigenous people I knew, and I felt very lonely. And apparently, lies were constantly spinning through my head: how the faith could never be reconciled with how Indigenous people live; the religion was foreign and I was becoming foreign. I don’t think I’ve ever been lonelier in my life as a Christian than I was that summer. It wasn’t until the fall of 2009, almost eight months after I became a Christian that I got involved with a Christian group on my university campus. The Christians were not crazy, they were extremely nice, and because all were attending my school, they were pretty smart. And the Christians were not all white, but were from many different countries and many different cultural backgrounds.

This church was also at night which I loved and it helped get me inside and actually listen to the message with other Christians. This may seem foolish to some people, but if church was at night in certain places, I wonder how many more young adults would hear the gospel. So I kept attending. I was/am an introverted guy. My social skills were getting better at that point. And if people talk to me I’ll chat their ear off. But, and this is important, I usually don’t approach people very often unless I have to. I was more than glad to sit in the back and listen to the message. And so I did, without speaking to anybody.

But then I started having a problem with the music. It was/is like the soft rock I couldn’t stand from my mom’s radio as a kid. It seemed like this same music was being played in other churches around North America. The music really bothered me; enough for me to show up after the music, in time for the sermon, and leave before they started playing the music again. This is an example of how we all have different interests and ways of worshiping, after we start following Christ. I still have problems with some music played during worship, but this is a minor issue. Don’t let music or an odd group of Christians prevent you from an amazing spiritual journey with Christ.

While growing in the faith I joined a Bible study and began talking to a youth pastor who most people said good things about. It’s nice to talk to someone who hasn’t always been a Christian and had problems of their own coming to Christ. This happened in a few short weeks of getting plugged into the church on campus. It would’ve never happened if I tried to be a Christian at home, reading and praying, without attending church. The people I met helped me grow in the faith and encouraged me while attending university. Yes, the cultural issues remained an issue and would for some time. They still do because in certain parts of North America, especially in church, Native people are in the minority. Some Christians will be white and this is okay. Most are down to earth and, because we are a part of communities, they will care for you as you will care for them.

I have been studying Indigenous issues for almost six years now—as an academic pursuit, as well as a personal interest. I have had to experience not only feelings of separation because of being alone in a city, but also academic hostility to Christianity. So I live in a place (a city) which people think makes one less Indigenous (an identity issue). And I’m in an environment which denies the legitimacy of my faith in Jesus Christ (Academic). My heritage also leads people to ask how a good God can allow this horrible history of injustice to happen or how Christians claim to know the narrow door, the path of Jesus.

It is rare that I meet anybody who is Native and Christian and is studying Indigenous (or Native American) studies. It’s lonely, it’s frustrating, and it’s an absolute miracle I am a Christian today. Only God changes people. Humans can help, but only God can change stubborn hearts and minds. I’m proof. Like Daniel, I study hard and master cultural literature, but I hang onto my faith in God. Like Elijah, I feel lonely in front of God, but I know there are thousands upon thousands of people who are in worse situations than I, living out their faith, full of hope.

This is really what my story is about: humans searching, but being found; searching for God, an identity, a purpose in life, only to be embraced by the Creator of the universe who knows who we are and what we are made for. There was a time when I did not have any of these things and those days were the darkest days my human soul has experienced on this planet. I tell this story with grace and the acknowledgment that this is ultimately not my story or how good I am (I most certainly am not), but about how massive and brilliant the Creator of the universe is. Our God loves us and He gave us stories to share with each other, and the skills to create new ones, to keep us glorifying His name and telling others about our experiences with Him. Keep the stories alive.