2023: My Soul

When I was in high school, we were encouraged to choose a “life verse,” a practice I love and encourage teens to do today. The verse I chose was Mark 8:36. My favorite version of it says, “What would you do if you gained the whole world and lost you, the real you? Is anything worth your soul?”

When I chose this verse, I was struggling reconciling my call to ministry. When I finally submitted to my call, I had to do some work to undo patterns that I knew didn’t align with my call. My soul — the piece of me that makes me “me” — was being sacrificed so that I could fit in and be like everyone else. I had to decide that being different was worth it, because I would be living into who God made me to be. Plus, that other stuff wasn’t really “me” in the first place.

For a long time, I didn’t really think about what this verse meant to me again — in fact, eventually I named a new “life verse” as I encountered some new things in my life. That was, until 2022.

In March of 2022, I had finally had enough. I was working my dream job as a youth pastor in a large progressive mainline church. I was living my absolute dream, doing amazing things for the church, community, and even the denomination. But there was something that I had been ignoring for years: an unhealthy work culture. By March I had encountered a number of situations in a matter of months that made me realize the pattern I had seen over the course of 8+ years.

In 2022 my word for the year was “brave.” So, I bravely spoke up. This blog post isn’t about what happened afterwards (I spoke about that very generally on my podcast). But I came out of the experience feeling absolutely heartbroken. Here was this church that I loved with my whole heart and this job that was my literal dream job: but it was costing me too much. I had lost my grip on goodness, sacrificed my self-assurance, and felt incredibly lost. Please read: I loved the people and loved the work. But the particulars around staff culture left me wondering if the work was still good if the leadership wasn’t.

I decided to meet with a pastor friend of mine, and ask for their guidance on my next steps. This was someone who had worked in the same church and had seen the things I had. I asked them — how did you know it was time to leave? And they told me, “I was told that I was the problem in the system. That my issues with the system were actually indicative of my own failures as a leader. So, I set six months on the calendar. In that six months, I focused on myself and allowed ministry to go to the back-burner. At the end of the six months, I was in the best shape I’d ever been in, was the closest to my family that I had been in years, and yet — I was facing the same issues at work. So, that was how I knew it was time to leave.”

I took this counsel literally. I set six months on the calendar. I joined a six-month cohort for women in executive leadership. And for the first time, I set a goal completely for myself. I focused on my health, which ended up being needed — as pursuing this goal resulted in getting surgery that resolved years of chronic pain, pain I had previously ignored.

During this six months, I was retaliated against relentlessly at work for shining light on issues in the church. But I leaned on the strength of my coaching group, my inner friend circle of WYM, and my family. I opened my heart to hear God, and placed up appropriate armor to block out the spiritual warfare I was encountering at work. I was able to hear God, even when things were at their hardest.

One week at a staff chapel, someone taught on Mark 8:36. Their take on the verse was encouraging the sacrifice of self for others. At this moment, something clicked. I had tried that for years. I had ignored my own mental, spiritual, and physical health and reasoned that Jesus taught us to put others before ourselves. And absolutely there is truth to that. But putting others first does not result in total loss of self.

I began meditating on Mark 8:36 again. And I re-imagined the words. “What if you had your dream job, but it cost you your soul?” I started thinking about what my soul is, what she’s worth. And I began fighting for her.

So, I allowed myself permission to dream about what could be, and on the very last day of the six month discernment period, was offered my current gig. My new job consists of things I have been learning about myself over the course of the years, but wouldn’t have sought out if I hadn’t been looking. On one hand, I hate that it took immense heartache to bring me to this point, but on the other hand — I can’t help but praise God for Their provision in this season. Every day I am grateful.

Classic to the personality of a youth minister, God speaks to me a lot through the music and movies that I take in. 2023 was “The Year of Women,” and the stories that women told through media this year deeply resonated with my quest for my soul:

Beyoncé’s Renaissance album came out in 2022 and went on tour this year. I blared this album every day for a year, especially “Break My Soul,” “Church Girl,” and “Cozy.” My mental health was at an all-time low a year ago, with panic attacks almost every day for months. As I drove to work during this season, I would listen to the affirmations of my soul being worth everything. And just as Beyoncé said to do, I quit my job and dyed my hair.
I have been obsessed for years with the Broadway musical, Waitress, and it came to theaters this year. Sara Bareilles has been my favorite singer for forever. Waitress is about a woman whose life didn’t look the way she planned. In the end, she chooses herself, even though it means enormous and heartbreaking change. Now, I can look at who I was and admire her strength, while celebrating the life I’ve bravely built.
Of course, the Barbie movie. At first, I absolutely hated the ending, but now I get it: Barbie left a perfect but plastic world for a real one. And the change, while devastating, was the only choice she could make in good conscience. She knew what life should feel like, and she knew that one she was living was fabricated, not authentic.
Taylor Swift’s Midnights album. Some people call it a breakup album, I call it her Renaissance. She remembers who she is, comes out of hiding, and reclaims it. She launches a tour celebrating who she’s always been, so that she can shine in the way she always needed to.

These women influenced my decision to choose myself, to choose my soul. To leave the known and embrace the unknown. To leave a job and people I loved, to find peace in my soul. And while I still have grief over different aspects, I also have peace. I hold these things hand-in-hand, damn proud of myself at all the hard things I had to do to be true to myself.

It reminds me of my favorite hymn, one I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with. Mostly because, when you’re having a bad time, it’s the last thing you want to hear.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way. When sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”

In 2023, I found peace in my soul. I did a ton of brave things this year, in addition to all of this. All because I fought for my soul.

My life looks very different than it did a year ago, all because I prioritized my wholeness. On Instagram, I posted:

In 2020, I found myself.

In 2021, I found my values.

In 2022, I found my voice.

In 2023, I found my peace.

A friend from my coaching cohort, who walked with me through my discernment process, responded: In 2024, may you find your power.

May it be so.

Turning 30: How I Survived My 20s

Blogs about Heather, new years resolutions

As I approach my 30th birthday on Friday, I’ve been feeling particularly nostalgic about my 20s. This has been a huge decade of growth for me in every way that I could possibly imagine; and while I know this is to be expected for anyone in their 20s, for me it feels different.

Ten years ago, I was in my sophomore year of college. I was a broken, hurt shell of a human being. I found relationships hard, because I had extreme abandonment issues that I hadn’t yet put words behind. I was too intense of a person to build relationships with anyone beyond my little tribe of people. I found it hard to connect and had a bitter and heavy heart. I loved the Lord and knew I wanted to serve Him, but also felt like life had dealt me a crappy hand and that no one understood me. I knew that I was gifted, but nobody had ever really told me that. I covered my body in baggy clothes, because I didn’t want to be seen and yet that was the only thing I wanted.

A few weeks ago, in a phone conversation with my little sister, she said to me, “So Heather. I turn 24 this year. And that puts me in my mid-20s. I’ve never really thought about what it’s like to be in your mid or upper 20s. I mean, I know what it’s like to be young, but mentally I just thought you skipped right from college into your 30s. Do you have any advice for surviving your 20s?”

At first I thought that this was the most ridiculous conversation I could possibly have with my baby sister. She knows I’m turning a whole decade older this year, right? And she’s worried about turning 24? But then I realized that she’s totally right, and many of the conversations I have with my friends and volunteers who are younger than me revolve around surviving this thing called your 20s. You see, I’ve spent the last ten years hearing from people “Oh, to be young again…”

But you know what? Screw that. My 20s were tough. And my sister was turning to the right person. I gave her three points of advice; points that I’d love to share with you:

1. Get a real job.

I’m not against travelling if you have that privilege, and I’m certainly not against taking some time to figure out what you’re good at or what you like. My sister is in that stage right now, and I have mad respect for it.

But at a certain point, you have to find a real job, get real experience, wake up at a real time, and report to a real supervisor for real coaching. And that helps you understand who you are as a person, because you’re learning to manage conflicts and programs and people as you seek to become more than a number, but a person with a career.

And, you know, bonus points for moving and finding who you are in a new city with new people. It is incredibly stretching to start over from scratch.

2. Find a Therapist.

A former supervisor, who I thought must have had the most perfect family life, once told me “your 20s are about figuring out what happened to you in your childhood.” Therapy is a huge piece of that. No matter what your family life was like, you owe it to yourself to talk about it with a licensed professional who can help you understand your growth barriers.

For me, it was imperative. I began seeing a therapist when I was 27. Originally I thought I was going to therapy because my job wasn’t the happiest at the time. But what I found out during therapy was that I was freaking out because I had fallen in love — and I had some major vulnerability issues as a result of abandonment. Fun stuff.

In addition to therapy, I went on an endless journey of self-discovery. I studied Strengthsfinder and the Enneagram to get a sense of who I am and what my gifts are. For me, this was redeeming. The things that I saw in myself as weakness, I began to see as pieces of God’s image in me. And it was freeing! And it helped me relate better to people who weren’t like me.

3. Date, but don’t feel like you have to settle down.

I didn’t begin dating until I was 24 years old. I was in a new city, and I didn’t know a single person outside of the church I had just started working in.

I dated aggressively, and I did so because I was on a journey to figure out who I was and what I wanted from a partner. I knew I wanted to get married someday, especially since being raised evangelical I had expected to be married and have 2 kids by the time I was 24.

But I’m GLAD that I waited until I had a better grasp of who I was as a person. You are constantly morphing throughout your 20s, which is why so many of my friends who married immediately after Bible college have already separated from their spouse. It takes a lot of time to figure out who you are, and you should never feel like you have to “make it work” with someone when either of you has no clue.

When I met my current partner, he was 34 and I was 26. I knew that I valued consistency, integrity, and humor — but a few years prior, I valued height, a high Biblical literacy, and someone who’d lead while I follow (vom). If I had gone with who I thought I wanted, I would end up with a tall tool who used the Bible to place me in the kitchen. I ended up with a partner who taught me the value of teamwork and makes me laugh and loves the Lord but also loves watching me shine. Thanks, Jesus, for that one.

—

These are the ways I survived my 20s — three simplistic, but difficult methods of finding myself. I am really proud of how far I’ve come: I’ve built deep relationships, including a spouse who I can be authentically and 100% myself with. I don’t live my life angry and bitter, and I’ve learned to wield my righteous anger into a power that gets stuff done for the sake of others. And generally speaking, I am an optimist; when 10 years ago I was a skeptic. I’ve also come to love myself completely. I look in the mirror and I like myself… some would even say my confidence needs to be dialed back. Last, I know what I want to do with my life — professionally but also personally. I can see my goals clearer than ever before.

As I look forward to my 30s, I often hear it’s the best decade of our lives. I hope so. I know that a lot of changes are on the horizon, with more stretching and growth bound to follow . But I also know that I am on a journey to be my best self. And if God can do this much in ten years of my life, who knows what’s ahead?!

This is a picture from my 20th birthday party, and I can’t think of a better picture! This is one of my dearest friends, who has been with me in this decade of growth.

Assuming the Best of Others

Blogs about Heather, christianity

It happened again.

Another angry email.

You know, the kind we all get. No matter the field, no matter the role–there is always a heated complaint, the kind that makes you laugh at first (because it seems so ridiculous), and then forces you into an existential crisis.

I know I’m not alone. Even today, a friend of mine is in the same boat.

I read the email to my boss, and before I began I said, “Please don’t tell me ‘I told you so.'” Because this email was in response to a decision that I made that my boss didn’t quite agree on, but trusted me on. And what’s worse than someone upset with you for something you rallied so hard for?

My boss had compassion, and told me this story: her daughter was recently promoted at her company to essentially intervene on every complaint the company had. Someone was mad about the product? Goes to her. Someone thinks an employee was rude? Goes to her. Every single complaint in the company goes to her. Imagine all those angry emails. Yikes.

But what she said to her mother blows me away: “Mom, I love it. I love being able to change somebody’s mind so that when they walk out, they are believers in our product. They end up loving our product.”

What a statement.

And how convicting.

You see, I have noticed that when someone brings up a complaint to me, I get heated. I get defensive. I don’t want to listen. I want it my way and right now. My eyes get crossed and my words get slurred and I want to defend my decisions and prove how wrong everyone else is.

But.

What if, instead of defending how correct I am (even when it’s obvious)…

…I spend that time in such a way that people walk out believing in my product?

…I take the time to value that person so that they value me?

…I assure that they don’t walk out knowing I’m right, but joining me in the truth itself?

And I think that this is true not just in our work, but in every argument that comes our way. I know that for me, I often get defensive because defense is my way of life. When you’ve done it “all on your own” for most of your life, you tend to forget that you don’t have to do it all on your own anymore.

And crap, you don’t outgrow that overnight.

It’s almost ironic that I began my day with this passage in Psalm 40 (which, on a side note, I only read because my sister got it tattooed on herself and I decided she was stupid so I ended up reading it to laugh at her, but instead it set my day in a really holy tone… don’t you wish God would stop meddling sometimes?!):

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,
and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground
and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
They will put their trust in the Lord.

God has done so much for us in our lives–taken us from a place of despair and loneliness and given us a solid foundation. The passage goes on to talk about how this story is not only one that we set on our lips, but one we place center in our hearts.

Sometimes we abandon this truth for a lie; we live our lives as if they are self-made and not God-rescued.

And when we live our lives as if it’s our work and not God’s, we forget to think about others. Because they didn’t help us. We did it on our own.

And what we end up doing is not allowing others to join in on that life, that story. We end up putting up walls and blurting out pieces when it’s convenient for us.

*raises hand*

I don’t know how to fix this.

But I can think of something one team in my church says, something I really admire:

Always assume the best in one another.

And I think that’s the best place to start…

…and maybe that’s where it also ends?

Assuming that when someone raises a concern with us, that their concern has value. That this person has value. That their concerns are nothing to laugh about or scoff about, but to consider that a real life human has entered you into a conversation that could end in improvement.

And, even if it’s not improvement in the idea itself…it will at least improve you as a person.

Treating others with the best assumptions always improves you as a person.

Lord, help me learn this. Help me set my story of rescue on my lips and in my heart. And help me invite others into that story, my story, and my thought process in a way that isn’t defensive but restorative.

Finding and giving hope

Blogs about Heather

Last week I wrote my first personal blog post in over a year and a half, and the responses I received from it were wildly encouraging! If you missed it, go back to this post and check it out.

In that post I poured out my heart and the experiences I’ve had over the past few years, specifically, coping with the longing for reconnection with my father. I’ve had so many people text me, call me, and hug me at church with the words, “you’re so brave” and “I want you in my life” and “I had no idea” and “I’m proud of you.” And y’all, while I don’t want to deny how hard I worked to be who I am today, I can’t help but think two things: “You should have met me before” and “This is all because of Jesus.”

And one day I’ll write about who I was before Jesus got a hold of my heart and set me on a new path. Preview: mostly a hot mess.

But today I just want to talk about hope. Because when I think about who I was and who I am, I cling to that word: hope.

Our church’s motto/mission statement is to “find and give hope.” I think that sums up our purpose as followers of Christ: to figure out where our hope comes from, and then to share it with others.

But more specifically: Our mission is to realize that our hope comes from Creator God who loves us and provides us with a hope we cannot explain otherwise. In my story, it’s “easy” to identify where the hope came from: when I was neglected by my family and rejected by people who couldn’t identify with me, the Church provided for me and equipped me to be a leader. I can’t explain my story without explaining God.

How is that true for your story? What part of your story can you not explain without explaining God? That is your hope.

And the thing is, once you identify where your hope comes from, you realize that this hope is not your own. And when you can’t explain your source of hope as anything else other than supernatural, you realize the necessity to share it with others.

So as I think about blogging again, I think that’s my mission: to find hope and to share it. Because the truth is, I need to remember to hope. And in the climate that we currently find our world in, I’m sure you can use a little more hope too.

So share your hope with me, too.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1

Doing More?

god, identity

“I feel stuck.”

These are the words one of my precious student leaders pulled me aside a little over a month ago, as she continued to tell me of her eagerness to grow in her faith. I listened to her, encouraged her, and gave her a few tangible things to “do.” But I struggled to explain to her the fuzzy line between “faith without works are dead” and the hard truth that doing anything more won’t mean anything more to you without faith.

I talked to my sister today, who explains to me that she doesn’t want to “eat spiritual steak,” because she’s still a “spiritual infant.” Certainly, I’d love to see growth in my sister. But I find myself again explaining to her that doing more won’t magically grow you more.

The crazy thing is–I think I operate my own life with the belief that I’m never a good-enough Christian, that there is always more to do. I think of a conversation with a good friend a few weeks ago, who told me that there was “always more ministry to do” as she justified adding more to her plate.

I’m 7 years older than my sister, who is 7 years older than my student leader. Between the three of us, we have the same notion that we must do more in order to grow more in our faith. I asked my sister what she thinks the “goal is” for faith, and she told me to live a life where everything glorifies God. I asked her if she though I was strong in my faith then. She stuttered (jerk). Point proven. If the three of us over the course of 14 years all have this same notion, my guess is that this is a feeling that will never go away.

It’s a sucky feeling, to not feel good enough. We get enough of that in our day-to-day life, that when you add not being “good enough” in faith, it all just feels so hard. Faith shouldn’t be this hard, right? Faith shouldn’t be something that you’re “good” at.

This last month on three separate occasions over the course of one month I’ve heard lessons taught on the comparison between the Pharisees and “sinners”: a tax collector, an adulterous woman, and the woman who fell at Jesus’ feet. In all three occasions, it’s proven that there is no distinction between them in terms of sin: They’ve all messed up, no one is without sin.

And in all three stories, Jesus proves that the ones who are “good enough” are the ones who know they’re not. None of them are saying “Hey Jesus, what more can I do?” In fact, the ones who do end up hearing answers that turn them away from Jesus (sell all my possessions? who is my neighbor, really?).

At the end of the day, all I want is God.

In every other aspect of life, I have to do something in order to gain something. It’s just the way it is. But what makes Christianity unique is that it’s the only way that doesn’t require more.

I’m not denying the value from spiritual disciplines. But I am denying the belief that doing them or anything else will somehow bring me certain results.

I just want to touch Jesus’ cloak for healing, wipe his feet with my tears, and admit I don’t have it all together. This is far more difficult that doing more, because it’s vulnerable. But that’s where God is–we’re too busy covering ourselves with fig leaves and to-do lists to understand that.

Who am I?

identity

I love the song “Friend of God.” Maybe it’s because I grew up in a church that made it really popping. Kirk Franklin’s version frequents my car rides in the morning to work (well, all of his works do, let’s be honest).

I always get choked up when I hear, “Who am I, that you are mindful of me?”

I tear because I think, “Yeah, Lord, who AM I? I’m a hot mess.”

But as I read Psalm 8 today, I realized that I have been reading this verse wrong my entire life. This question isn’t a rhetorical one meant to convict, but a legitimate question meant to encourage you:

When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
the moon and the stars you set in place—
what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
human beings that you should care for them?
Yet you made them only a little lower than God
and crowned them with glory and honor.
You gave them charge of everything you made,
putting all things under their authority—
the flocks and the herds
and all the wild animals,
the birds in the sky, the fish in the sea,
and everything that swims the ocean currents.

Who is humanity, that God would pay attention to us? We are his prized creation, made in his image, in control and entrusted with the entire earth.

We are more than just his friends. We are just a little lower than God and crowned with glory.

This isn’t rhetorical. This is telling you EXACTLY who you are to God.

(and it convicts me even more–because rarely do I honor this God-given image)

Lessons from my one-eyed cat

god, love

I have a cat.

A one-eyed cat.

Most of my friends know this–my Facebook and Instagram were covered with pictures of her for a while, and while I’ve slowed down on snapping every cute thing she does, I post about her regularly.

Iris is very affectionate. She is always begging for love, and it can be pretty annoying. She always wants to be petted and cuddled. She’s also very vocal,, so she mews and mews and does a weird cry so you’ll pet her. And in the middle of the night, when she’s all alone, her cries as she roams my home sound like, “Hewwo, hello???”

I promise it is cute–most of the time.

This morning, Iris interrupted my prayer time meowing, so I held her as I prayed. I just asked God to use this time to speak to me, when she jumped out of my arms and began crying out. I said, “Iris, I had you in my arms. Why did you jump out? It’s your own fault that you’re upset.”

And that’s when it dawned on me: God always has room for us, room for affection and love and grace.

We are the ones who reject it, run away from it. And yet, we are the ones complaining loudly., treating God as if he is the one who abandoned us.

We are like my annoying, affectionate, vocal cat. And just like I love Iris and think she’s the best animal on the planet, God has the feels for us even more.

(PS: When I named Iris, I named her part because of the eye situation, part because I love old lady names, and part because of the Goo Goo Dolls song. The entire song is about a person who feels Isolated, but wants so badly to be loved. I didn’t know Iris the cat well enough to understand how fitting this would be. Ha.)

About this whole “blogging thing” . . .

Blogs about Heather, updates

Blogging is scary.

Blogging means you’re vulnerable.

Blogging means potentially offending people.

Blogging means that people know your thoughts.

Blogging is a tension of journalism VS personality.

Blogging means that you’re the center of attention.

Blogging means you’re being forced into community.

Blogging means that your identity now relies on the affirmation of others.

Blogging means that people will disagree with you, and that’s scary but also really beautiful.

Blogging means that you have to sort through what in is true and what is a lie.

Blogging means that you may get caught up in lies at times.

Blogging means that, eventually, you have to “grow up a little bit more” as a former coworker of mine used to say about the teens we worked with.

But for me: Blogging is a way of sharing information. Of sharing what I’m learning. Of learning from others.

I’ve never been gone completely.

But I’m back.

(JUST LIKE THE TERMINATOR MOVIES!)

(but now is not the time to freak out about that)

Why Being a Christian Young Adult is Lonely

church, millennials, updates

I think I’ve hit the loneliest point of my life. I don’t mean this in a “woe is me, take pity on me” kind of way…I just mean that bring a young a adult and trying to live your life for Jesus is hard.

First of all, this is the first time in our lives that we we aren’t surrounded by people our own age. We’re no longer in an academic setting of peers, but in a job of intergenerational people. That means that we have to figure out new ways to make friends. That’s weird.

Add in singleness for those of us who didn’t get our MRS or MR degrees, and now we’re doing this alone.

Add in the whole “Bible College” factor, and you’ve got a bigger dilemma: culture shock. What’s funny is, I didn’t think that would happen to me. I grew up in an urban environment and didn’t think that would apply to me. But alas, I came to the real world and was shocked at how much I didn’t relate to it.

Let’s add moving to a new city or state for our first “big girl” job. Not only am I alone, not only do I not know how to make friends, not only have I lived in a bubble, but now I don’t know anybody. And I can’t find a Target.

So let’s throw in Church. Churches ignore young adults. I have some speculation as to why. Perhaps because they can’t tithe to make an impact, they aren’t given programming. The Church sees no return from it (monetarily at least. We forget spiritual returns in the Church a lot). And since many of us don’t have children, people aren’t forced to give us programming… but this is just speculation. ;)

And how about those of us who take it a step further and work in the Church? That can be a lonely job in itself. Add in all those other factors, and you have a mess.

Let’s not even talk about moving to a new denomination, or how we’re all wrestling with our faith to begin with, or the mass amounts of media advertisement tempting and swaying us to abandon our moral compass.

All I’m saying is, this is a huge struggle.

And I’m not alone. As I confide in peers, I know that we all are experiencing this to a degree.

And Church, we need you. We need community and if you don’t give it to us, we’ll make it for ourselves.

Heather Lea Campbell

Youth Pastor for Youth Pastors