Jo

While I wait for the year 2010 to begin. I thought I might write down some of the more memorable conversations that I've had in 2009. I try my best to recount each experience, though the details are a bit sketchy. I only have a vague memory of some, though other encounters will quite possibly haunt me forever.


I met Jo, a primary school teacher, whilst I was on SUFM beach mission somewhere on the NSW south coast. Of course this is not her real name. Jo was staying there with her young family, enjoying what little was left of her summer vacation before the school term recommenced. Christmas had passed and the new year was soon to come.

Jo resided in last caravan in the long stretch of caravans that had been allocated to my door-knocking partner and me for the mission. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily for me, my door-knocking partner was a particularly charismatic fellow. He had a good sense of humour and a down-to-earth nature. We had only met several days earlier. I had no idea what his evangelism style was, though I soon learnt. It was good that his confidence and energy allayed my apprehensions. I felt that his easy-going Australianism would make up for my city-girl yuppie unrelatability, especially in a place such as where we were. I was told to greet people with 'How-ya-going?', which did not sit well with me. Everytime I said it I worried it sounded rather unnatural and condescending. Even small-talk was hard.

After several days of 'dry' door-knocking, we stumbled upon the last caravan. Jo and her mother were reclining on the verandah, sipping glasses of cool drink (or perhaps it was beer). My door-knocking partner started the conversation, as he usually would, and I was particularly apprehensive on this day because of the heat.

The conversation started with mere formalities - an exchange of names, comments about the weather, and have you seen the cricket? She was very cheerful and had a bubbly disposition. Her mother was at first a little uneasy, but she too was soon drawn into the conversation. The conversation, without any guidance from us, took a turn on to more serious subjects. Jo told us about how she didn't look forward to returning to school because of the amount of marking she had to do. It was not a high-paying or lucrative job, yet it saddened her how much time it took away from time spent with her family. I tried to empathise. Yet I was several years her junior, and never held a full-time job before. My feelings were perhaps sympathy towards her cause, rather than a real empathy towards her personal experiences. I felt frustrated that I could not adequately relate, again. Jo tried to laugh off the unhappy subject, but the conversation had lulled into an awkward silence.

My partner ventured a question about whether Jo and her mother attended church. The response was that they used to, but no longer attended. The reason she gave came a shock to me. She would be the first person, in a long line of people throughout 2009, to recount scars of the past. She told us that she had attended a certain church for several months. She attended Sunday service and a cell group (similar to a Bible Study fellowship group) regularly. She tithed regularly as well. However, her family feel on hard financial times and hence stopped giving to the church as regularly. At first this was unnoticed, but after a while, she told us that the people in her cell group began to shun her, and at times when she discussed her problems, their responses would be insincere. Jo recalled distinctly that another member of her group said that if she tithed a bit more often, perhaps then her problems would have redress. It was then she began to withdraw from church social events, because of shame, discomfort and ostracism. Jo discontinued any relationship with the church after she was removed from her cell group upon approaching the minister of the church and complaining of her experiences.

When asked about her relationship with God, Jo told us that she would still pray and occasionally read the Bible, though she has truly been disheartened by her experiences. To her story, I had no response. I was genuinely saddened. If her claims are true, which I believe to some extent they are, it is even more disappointing. I struggled to find words to say, though I knew whatever I said would not be able to account for what happened nor why that church did what it did. To tell her that not all churches are like that, seemed inappropriate and dismissive. So instead, my partner and I just said that we were sorry for what had happened. No other words could suffice. We hoped in our hearts that she might look past the failings of men, drawing near and not losing faith in God's perfect justice and love.

We saw Jo on several other occasions during beach mission. We talked more about Jesus and the weight of sin in this world. My door-knocking partner eventually gave her some details to another church in her nearby area. He knew the area because he grew up near there. He hoped that she might have the courage to try again. Though in my mind, the passage of time may ease her hesitation, I pray.