An open letter about my time at Grace Youth Klang.
I first joined when I was 13. It felt like I didnāt fit in - I was too old for GCC, too young to truly understand the youth. I flitted around, unsteady, slowly learning, slowly observing. But I thrived, eventually, even though I remained the āquietā one there. I was forced into a zone far from my comfort. I learnt about media, taking photos and videos while not knowing what the butt an ISO was. I helped in events, in fundraising, in leading teams in camp even though I was definitely NOT a people person. I won, three years in a row (still a braggable achievement). I lead the worship team (tried), working my way up from being a backup singer. I learnt how to harmonise. I became a āleaderā.
Iāve noticed - so many people, so many adults, see the easier parts. They see us hanging around at the foyer, laughing too loudly while collecting forms. They see us always at church, playing games, never leaving Taman Chi Liung restaurant. They see us taking an Instagram story of Kevin and Teo playing around, of us lying down on the somewhat clean 2nd Hall floors.
But what they focus on is this - us speaking up when we disagree with something. Our tendency towards ādefying authorityā. Our ālazinessā when we canāt commit to yet another thing, yet another event. Our lack of cooperation. Our inability towards working with whatever person they put to lead us. Our inability to submit to authority. Our inability to bow down, and accept things for what it is.
What they donāt see, what they didnāt see - we were still just kids. We were leaders yes, but we were still youths who didnāt have a pastor to guide them. They didnāt see that we were still young people, trying to make it better for the younger ones, figuring out the unknown slowly. They didnāt see the time we so carefully carved out, from piles of university assignments to come to church for practice. They didnāt see the Sunday lunches we take so late to collect forms, and the times we leave our late lunches to collect more from those who couldnāt do it earlier. They didnāt see the personal problems we had- the burnout of giving and not receiving, the family problems, the friendships lost, the emotional turmoil. They didnāt see the numerous night long meetings held to discuss ways to improve the youth, ways to be better, to foster the spirit of excellence in everything we do. They didnāt see the times we unfailingly attended our prayer meetings and cell groups on Fridays after hours long of standing in the KTM, or the month long trainings or camp meetings we had every Saturday morning. They didnāt see the WhatsApp messages that the leaders sent to keep up with the youth, they didnāt see how those texts grew into friendships that were/ are treasured. They didnāt see that we didnāt have the time for ourselves, because we so willingly invested it in the youth.
...how could they say that we were cliquish, when all we had were one another?
Being a leader wasnāt great, but it was good, sometimes. I truly treasure all that happened in my years serving. I learnt to get a thick skin, because people are going to tell you that your work isnāt good enough and that you arenāt cut out for it, even though youāve already given years. Because after serving non stop and feeing burnt out... maybe I just āwasnāt made for servingā, right?. Iāve gotten the chance to meet so many types of people - from the ones who will preach about knowing every single name and yet never refer you by your name despite asking for it 3 times, to the friends who will cry with you in the KTM, ready with a hug, when empty cans start to make noise. Iāve gotten to learn about myself, to work my way towards the career I will ultimately choose, Iāve gotten my first hand experience on handling clients civilly, when someone wanted the youth logo to be rainbow coloured. Iāve learned to stand up for myself, to stand up for others, to ask questions always, because itās the right thing to do. You build each other up, you correct one another. You do not keep quiet when you know something is wrong.
Being a āleaderā isnāt a cool title to bear, nor does it mean the cool custom shirts that we made and paid for ourselves at the start for use in formal events. It means sweeping the 2nd Hall floor, stacking up the chairs, early mornings and late nights for preparations, meetings with mistakes thrown at you, trainings that you sacrifice weekends for, agendas you disagree with being pushed at you. It means doing the things that people donāt see you doing, and getting called lazy, anyway.
Iām not going to say that Iāll forget the bad times here. Iāll remember the terrible politics in a place thatās supposed to be used to glorify god, Iāll remember the adults that smile at you and gossip behind your back, Iāll remember the manipulation, the lies, the misuse of āGod told me to do itā or āGod spoke to meā to justify a decision that is so clearly not thought through. Iāll remember the hypocrites whoāve showed everyone just how holy they are, and how they can never do wrong. Iāll remember the people who ācaredā about the youth so much that they spread around about how the leaders just stayed because they cared for their positions.
When I attended SIB that one rare time, I remember someone sharing about a youth saying this to a pastor, āthank you for letting us make mistakesā. Maybe thatās whatās lacking all this while - the ability to make mistakes and to grow from them without fear. Weāve made our mistakes, yes, but each one has turned to a weight that constantly adds unto our shoulders, a fault to add unto a long list of how we always fall short.
Weāve made our mistakes, but so has some of those in authority. But instead of giving the same treatment weāve received, weāre expected to submit to authority, unfailingly, unquestionably. But well... weāre not the first to leave, and weāre not even the second. And in all of this - we werenāt the common denominator.
Honestly, I could go on and on. About their faults, about my hurt, about my own faults. But from all of that, apart from the lessons Iāve learnt, what Iāll want to remember is this: the time Aaron Koh spilled coffee into Dillenās nose when we all lied down in the main hall, tired from setting up for Starry Night. The time we found puppies in the drain and washed the stink out of them and got them adopted. Making wire tags for Hydrowar in the second hall. Our voices cracking when we canāt reach a note. Early first day of camp mornings and the rush to get campers settled. The late nights in camp, eating our dinners when the campers ate their suppers. Prepping for GA gifts and camp junk food with Cheryl. Building the whole stage deco wrongly twice and then building it up again only to realise that itās upside down. Playing ābangā or uno in the multipurpose room. Soaking sessions with the committee, just one guitar, maybe one piano, and a whole bunch of young adults crying for more. BR with David, JRR and Aaron. Honey chicken rice at Taman Chi Liung, and peanut butter milkshakes at Pink Dugong after. The tired, bittersweet feeling after camps, putting the stuff back from the vans and lorries. Lying on the wheelchair ramp, too tired to move after camp at Ipoh. Ranting with Aaron Shawn. Khishanās horrible watermelon gummies, and him making the church yeet. Josh Tan laughing so hard that he snorted maggi out his nose. Prepping for Sunday group sharing/ devo with Sam Swee at McDs. Chermaine and Cheryl teaching me how to harmonise. And so many other more that I canāt name, because that would take ages.
I left grace youth after I turned 21. Iāve lost my faith, and Iāve tried (am trying?) to rebuild it. Iāve lost some friends, and got people who now mean so much more. Iāve learnt that thereās a time to fight, and that thereās a time when fighting will never be enough. And I know Iāve left the youth earlier on, in January, and now Grace itself, but it feels apt to leave a grammar mistake ridden, ranty post about my time in youth because itās where Iāve grown so immensely. I will miss it, but itās time to be at places we will grow.
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