#027 Courtney Evans [Class of 2014 (Left 2011)]

 Hello all,

(This is Courtney Evans so you don’t have to scroll to the bottom to see who wrote this.)

There were a lot of different emotions I felt when reading through these letters, the first was shock that someone finally started the conversation, Natasha being the one to start it was less surprising (she was always fearless). I felt utter sadness reading the experiences that my fellow friends and peers had endured, and a little bit of betrayal reading the dismissal of those experiences. When I read Augustin’s letter, I was instantly taken back to that day in Mr. Palpant’s class. I had kind of forgotten about it until I read it. I think it’s common to forget things from our past that didn’t affect us personally. I think that’s why these letters needed to be written, not as a slam on an institution that formed most of our adolescence, but as a safe space for people to be heard, for their stories to be told, for everyone to feel less alone.

When thinking of what I wanted to write, a few different themes stuck out to me. I could write about how my family was on tuition assistance and the politics of that, but that felt more like my parents’ story. I could write about how questioning any of the rules or reasoning behind decisions was not only frowned upon but viewed as direct defiance, but that felt more like Kayla’s story. I could write about the intense competition forced on us between our fellow peers, but that felt like Taylor’s story. I could write about how there was only one learning style and if you didn’t grasp a concept, you were out of luck, but that felt like Morgan’s story. I could write about how I would forge my mom’s signature on attention grabbers by stacking it on top of a piece of paper with her signature on it over my bedside light, I could write about how I cried every night of my third-grade year for reasons I have now suppressed and how I first remembered “miles” in Latin meant soldier because that’s how Mrs. Miles felt to me. In proofing this letter, my mom reminded me of one particular night when she found me sobbing in my room, telling her I wanted to be in Heaven with Jesus rather than endure another day of third grade. This was, understandably, disturbing to hear from an 8-year-old. When bringing this to the attention of my teacher, in line with Matthew 18, my mom was told that I “needed to get over it.” But I digress. I could write about how Mr. Palpant pulled me out of class to ask why my sister was defiant and question me on how her relationship was going with her boyfriend, I could write about how Miss Mewes pulled me out of Mr. Purkett’s math class for a period and a half to send me to the principal’s office for not wearing socks when 6 other girls in my class also weren’t wearing socks. Or I could write about how Mr. Indgjerd told us that LC was full of sex-obsessed sinners and public school is the worst thing that we could ever attend. (I ended up going to Ferris 10-12.) But all those subjects seemed to have been covered in one form or another throughout other letters. The similarities and consistencies of our stories seem to echo one another, but one thing that hasn’t been discussed as much that I feel is necessary is religion at the Oaks.

I remember getting a text my freshman year at college. Little did I know that responding to that text message led to me experiencing what the Gospel actually was for the first time in my life. Of course, I knew all the answers. I knew dates, and authors, and memorized verses every week in my math class.  But it never meant anything to me. The Bible was just more history to me in a book without the word “History” directly written on the cover.

It took me about a year to fully understand how the Oaks affected me spiritually. It used to be that when brought up in conversation, I would brush off my experiences at this school with funny quips comparing our dances to Pride and Prejudice scenes and stories of missing out on an education over incorrect socks. Those two quick anecdotes could always get a laugh for their sheer ridiculousness just long enough until I could change the topic. That first year I was involved with Campus Crusade for Christ radically changed my life, I couldn't brush my story under the rug anymore. They asked me critical questions about my emotions, they walked me through the Bible with focus on learning who Jesus was, not just facts of His life. I read the Bible for enjoyment, not as an assignment.  I studied Matthew 1 and saw that not only were women included in the genealogy of Jesus, but women that shouldn’t be mentioned. A prostitute, an adulterous, a foreigner. I had always known that Jesus hung out with sinners and outsiders, but for the first time I felt like I wasn’t expected to be perfect to sit at His feet. I was free to come as I was. I felt the freedom in admitting to my own sin and unworthiness rather than to feel shame in my imperfectness.

I learned the impact of the Holy Spirit in my everyday life when offered drugs in a dorm room rather than having my shoulder exposed. I learned that we are called to engage with those scary public school kids Mr. Indgjerd warned us about rather than sequester ourselves in a safe bubble. The entire New Testament shows Jesus’ love and desire to reach the nations, and yet, we were continuously told that public schoolers and unbelievers in general were inherently bad. I was taught to look down on the unknown, but in leaving the known, I was able to find real faith. I traveled to South Lake Tahoe and talked to people on the beach about their spirituality, I went to Russia and talked to students in mall cafeterias that would suddenly start to whisper when the conversation got too serious, in fear that government employees were listening. I have sat with friends in college cursing through their first prayer (I cried with joy), and I have experienced God’s unending love in ways that I never felt possible. I learned that there is a place for truth (discipline, justice, etc.) but only in balance with grace. At the Oaks, all I experienced was truth, never grace.

The Oaks helped me with my SAT vocabulary but not with making friends that were different than me. I didn’t know how to listen to others with the intent of understanding their stories, but I did know a quick rebuttal. I learned that I wasn’t better (or worse) than other people, we all have different strengths, we all are God’s children. 

I am continually in awe of the way that Jesus led His life. He was fearless in talking to outsiders, He didn’t ask for them to come to Him when they were perfect but He met them where they were and walked alongside them. I understand the concept that the Oaks is shooting for and I think one day it could be attainable, when the administration has soft hearts open to feedback and growth, but the complete ostracizing of outsiders is alarming and inherently unbiblical as it goes against the great commission’s urgency to “GO to the nations.”

I do not say any of this with the idea that I have life figured out, by any means, but that this is my story. There are logical fallacies probably throughout this whole letter that Mr. Kimball would shake his head at, but this I know is true: I am loved eternally by the Creator of the whole world and you are too. People have hurt all of us, but acting in His name doesn’t mean that He agrees with it. We as humans are sinful and miss the mark daily. The pain in these letters is due to the sinful nature of the humans that run the school, not the God that runs the whole show. Remember that.

I don’t think the Oaks is inherently bad, and I would be remiss to write all of this without acknowledging that I really enjoyed the elementary school (special shout out to Mrs. Korver and Mr. Reidt for fostering a love for learning) but the junior high and high school were too political amongst the students and staff. 

Lastly, I would like to acknowledge that it could be easy to dismiss my story because some of you would say my parents should have been my guiding light in my relationship with Jesus, not the school. To that I say, my parents are pillars of faith in my life and have always been there to tell me that my worth is found in Christ not in grades or legalistic rules. But the issue is this: the Oaks was determined to instill their specific, narrow worldview and Biblical interpretations into me for 7 hours a day, 5 days a week, for 10 years straight. And that religious abuse is hard to unlearn.

My prayer is that the administration has eyes to see and ears to hear, I pray that the Lord softens their hearts. I pray for healing for those affected by members of the Oaks community. I pray for radical life change and healing.  

These letters remind me of Jesus’ visit to the temple. We all need a good table flipping cleanse every once in a while. Thanks for your vulnerability everyone.

All my love,

Courtney Evans

Class of 2014 (Left 2011)

courtneyevans2014@gmail.com

PS

I would encourage any alumni, parent, or current student to read through this article below and think about how relatable it may be to your experience at the Oaks. 

https://www.commongrace.org.au/the_characteristics_of_spiritual_abuse