JV Kids - I Am Third (excerpt)

“Jasné”, I choked out, absentmindedly in

Slovak because at the moment that was the only

appropriate word that flew into my mind. As

soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back, press

the pause button and rewind, but I couldn’t.

How am I going to get out of this? I wondered

to myself. Now she would surely hold me to

my word. Oh why did I say yes? A friend who

herself had just started going had just invited

me to her youth group. A Lutheran youth group

full of people I didn’t know. I was sure they had

probably known each other since birth or even

before! They would take one look at me and

The Sound of Belonging

by Emili Shepperson

In Slovakia for 13 years16 years old

87

know I was different, this I knew for sure.

“Lutheran” was a word completely foreign to me. Just about as foreign as “najvychovavateľnejší” is for you if you cannot speak the Slovak language. Other than the Lutheran church building this word meant little to nothing to me. Mainly because I go to a non-denominational church in Žilina, the town I have been a missionary kid in for just about all my life. When I tell people where I am from and what church I go to, they are normally left bewildered and somewhat skeptical as they nod kindly but reality is, I don’t belong to any denomination that Slovaks know about or understand. Anything that is not Catholic or Lutheran is not normal them.

There are two types of people where I live, Catholics and Lutherans. In Slovakia, denominations do not mingle. You must be Lutheran to be a part of a Lutheran youth group or Catholic to attend a Catholic school. They tend to focus more on your title than what is inside. It breaks my heart to see that religion here is really based on the color of the pastor’s socks on Sunday and if he sang the liturgy correctly, than a real and authentic relationship with the real and living God.

As I stepped over the doorstep of the Lutheran church and plunged into the unknown, I had no idea what to expect. My converse shoes tap- tapped on the hollow wooden floor. My hands shook as I slowly pulled my arm from my jacket, stalling for time but there is only a certain amount of time you can stare at the old rickety coat rack full of winter jackets. Across the

room there was a group of rowdy boys playing foosball and ping-pong and several smaller groups just sitting or talking. She took me by the hand and began to introduce me to person after person, and slowly that knot in my stomach began to disappear. That night after I went home, I contemplated whether or not I would go back. However strangely enough I found myself spending all my free time there.

Last week at youth group, a year and a half after my first encounter with them, we all exchanged glances as we sat around the table in the back of the hot, cramped church room. I was still a little out of breath, and I wondered if everyone in the room could hear me as much as I thought. I had to look away for fear that the pressure in my chest, the sounds that I was trying so hard to keep in would suddenly burst from me at any moment. I was trying not to laugh. We slid our hands mischievously back under the table, but the smell of our long awaited dinner and the warmth of the foil against our hands was too much. We slowly began to unwrap our prize as we cradled our long awaited meal under the table. “Crinkle, crinkle,” the sound of the foil echoed over the voice of the preacher in the front, through the silent room, heads turned and glanced around the room for the source of the sound. Suddenly, as I gazed around at the faces sharing this predicament with me, I realized these people had become very special to me. In that moment, I belonged.

Today as I hear the familiar tap-tap of my shoes on the hollow wooden floor of the Lutheran church, it is a sound one so familiar

The Sound of Belonging

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and comforting, a sound full of expectation and joy that fills me up inside. It’s the sound of belonging.

I have hope that one day people in Slovakia will not care so much what church you are from, but they will know that a true relationship with God is what it is all about. A place where

denominations and baptisms and confirmation classes are not what make you a Christian. I am living in Slovakia, but not Slovak, attending a Catholic school, but not Catholic and at a Lutheran youth group, but not Lutheran, yet I still belong.

EmiliShepperson

“as I gazed around at the faces sharing this predicament with me, I realized these people had become very special to me.”

“I have hope that one day

people in Slovakia will

not care so much what

church you are from, but

they will know that a true

relationship with God is

what it is all about.”

Slovakia