My years at the Oaks were incredibly impactful. I felt a
deep sense of community and support, and those things made up my entire world.
I saw my teachers not just educators but as mentors, wisemen, and leaders to be
followed. I felt loved,
and so I followed every single rule without question, I believed every opinion
they express as truth, and I assumed all of it was for my betterment. Today, I
feel differently. I wish I had been more curious, asked more question, and
listened to my gut when something being taught didn’t feel right.
As much as The Oaks teaches its students to think
critically, they never welcomed criticism of what they touted as ultimate
truth. They taught us
apologetics so that we could defend the faith, but they only accepted one
definition of faith. Anything that strayed outside their perception of godly
behavior was reprimanded using biblical logic, which made it impossible to
argue lest you be seen as ungodly yourself.
So to follow the expectations set before me, I picked out
ballgowns with straps at least 2 inches wide. And I wrote essays about the
“issue of homosexuality.” And I kept my mouth shut when the Mt St Helens
eruption was used to prove the young earth theory. And I never asked why our
world history curriculum only taught us about North America and Europe. And I accepted
that 8 years learning a dead language was a reasonable use of my time. And I
dove into giggly discussions with my friends about whether my first kiss would
be on my wedding day or engagement day. (I wished with all my heart to embody a
virtuous Proverbs 31 woman, so I chose wedding day.)
During middle school, I developed an autoimmune disease
which left me in chronic pain. But because I wanted “strength and honor” to be
my clothing, and my tongue to be “the law of kindness” like the godly woman I aspired
to be, I rarely revealed the great amount of pain I was experiencing. And I was
praised endlessly for it by those whose opinions mattered most to me - my Oaks
community. I distinctly remember learning in school that “the pedagogy of God
is pain” and that my disease was God’s tool for branding me as a his child,
much like sheep are fire-branded by their shepherd. So I accepted that hiding
and enduring physical, emotional, and mental pain was how a person of true
faith should live.
If there is one thing I would like to say to the current
students at The Oaks, it is this. You do not need to endure your struggles in
silence. Your pain is not weakness. Your needs are not a burden. Your feelings
are valid. Your questions are important.
 And lastly, if you are unsure about anything
being taught to you as truth, you are allowed to question it, even if you don’t
have the language to express why or you can’t offer a clear argument in your
defense. If something doesn’t feel right to you, that matters. Listen to
yourself. Allow yourself to be curious about the why behind what you are being
taught.
You might find that the width of your dress straps has no
impact on your worth and that your body is nothing to be ashamed of. Or you
could discover that being LGBTQ+ is no issue at all! Maybe you’ll start to
realize that science can be trusted, or want to gather stories from every
continent to inform your perception of the world. You may decide to dedicate
your time to learning a living language so you can better understand people
with different life experiences. You might discover that you want to welcome
love and connection into your life whenever they offer themselves to you,
because they are precious. And you may experience deep comfort and healing from
sharing your pain with trusted others rather than building a wall around it and
telling yourself to stay strong.
Being curious might open up a sea of new possibilities for
you and your life. It did for me, and I have never been more fulfilled than I
am now. I hope the same for you.
- Emily Barber
For tracking purposes: #007
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