My
name is Max Vale. I am a senior at UC Berkeley, and I attended FoCUS for the
first three years of my time at Cal. I was quite involved during my time
there—I attended weekly, I went to most of the non-Wednesday night events, and
I served in leadership positions. I am writing this because I received an
invitation to a Facebook event entitled “Major Changes to FoCUS,” and current
and past FoCUS students were encouraged to write a letter discussing our FoCUS
experiences. I cannot tell if the creator of the Facebook event is encouraging
us to write letters to persuade the First Pres leadership to keep FoCUS the
same way it has been, but my purpose in writing this letter is a bit different.
My purpose in writing this letter is twofold: so that someone in First Pres leadership
can hear my story, and so that the leadership can hear my suggestions for what
should be done with FoCUS.
I
was encouraged to check out FoCUS based on the recommendation of Andrew Engle,
who had attended the same high school as me. I showed up to the Welcome
Barbecue my freshman year, and I liked what I found—a community. I had grown up
in the church and had attended a Christian high school, so moving into the Cal
dorms was a totally new experience for me which rocked my world. I no longer had
any idea if anyone around me shared my beliefs. However, I found that common
ground among students in FoCUS. To me, it didn’t matter what the other students
believed; all that mattered was that we had a common faith in the huge UC
Berkeley community.
FoCUS
was what kept me going my first semester. To be completely honest, I used to
count down the days each week until FoCUS happened again because I was so happy
to be there. FoCUS was also a steady mainstay during the emotional transitions
I experienced while adjusting to life in Berkeley. This continued into my
second semester as well. I pledged a fraternity, and when things got so
stressful for me, it was FoCUS that gave me constant support, sometimes in the
form of another FoCUS student holding me while I cried during the 505 service.
FoCUS
also subtly affected my faith. When I look back on the faith I was taught
growing up in a Baptist community, I realize that I was taught a lot of
condemnation and self-loathing. Nick Van Santen’s weekly closing remark of, “I
love you, we as a community love you, but most importantly, God loves you,”
slowly began to change the perspective I had on who God was, and the value that
I had. FoCUS also taught me the importance of community—something which had
never been talked about in my upbringing.
At
the beginning of my sophomore year, Nick Van Santen asked me to be a triplet
leader. I was honored that Nick thought I was capable of taking on this role,
and I rose to the challenge. My triplet met pretty much weekly for my entire
sophomore year. My triplet, as well as Nick himself, were steady sources of
support during my experiences that year with depression, anxiety, suicide,
changing beliefs, and sexual identity.
FoCUS
then began to change my junior year following a large graduating class. We
began to meet in the College Lounge rather than the sanctuary. We changed our
starting time. Those of us on leadership no longer had distinctive roles
(Hospitality Team, Triplet Leaders, and Worship Team distinctions were
dissolved). I was excited to see where FoCUS would go following these changes;
however, early in the year, seeds of disconnection from FoCUS were sown within
me. I was not placed into a triplet for whatever reason, so I had one less
opportunity to connect with my peers. Additionally, the “leadership team
meetings” became a book discussion. Frankly, I was not interested in reading a
book for FoCUS on top of my school work, so I always came to the discussions
empty-handed. Because of my disinterest in the discussion, I stopped attending
the weekly leadership meetings. I still attended regular FoCUS every week, but
it slowly became more of a chore to attend rather than something I wanted to
do. That was because I did not really have a community there. For whatever
reason, I didn’t know many people there outside of those who were already in my
fraternity.
Near
the end of my junior year, Nick pitched the idea of having FoCUS students
living in the church’s intern house and forming a FoCUS leadership community. I
declined the offer to live at the house, because I feared that it would become
an exclusive, elitist group of FoCUS students.
By
the end of my junior year, I was very unmotivated to continue attending FoCUS.
I felt very disconnected from the community and very disinterested in the
leadership changes that were happening. However, I loved Nick as the director
of FoCUS. Nick was basically the motivating factor for me to continue
attending. Therefore, as soon as I heard that he was leaving, my motivation to
attend FoCUS dropped significantly.
I
decided to attend the FoCUS Welcome Barbecue the first week of this year. I wanted
to give FoCUS a chance—perhaps it was thriving without Nick. I hoped that maybe
I would be able to meet some new students and thus feel connected to the
community once again. However, when I showed up to the barbecue, I could not
tell who was a new student and who was a returning student. So I sat with and
talked to another senior in FoCUS who had been my closest friend for my first
two years of college. When the actual FoCUS meeting began, I noticed that it
was sophomores and juniors who were running the show. And these students were
the ones who lived in the house. I felt that my fears were being realized—that
the members of the house had become an elitist group. I felt forgotten by
FoCUS. Even though I had attended every single week for three straight years, I
was not involved in any of the logistical, administrative, or leadership
decisions. And that hurt. It hurt that the community I had been so eager about
my first two years had seemingly forgotten about me. In addition, the room just
felt dead during the worship songs. It was nothing at all like the vibrant
community I had felt in the room my freshman and sophomore years. My other
senior friend whispered to me during the worship songs, “Do you want to go to
my place and have a beer?” So we left and had a beer at his place and talked
about how far downhill FoCUS had gone. We both felt forgotten by the community
that we had been so dedicated to. Honestly, I had more community drinking a
beer with my friend than I did at FoCUS.
I
have not been back to FoCUS since then. I have not been to any of the
non-Wednesday night events this year.
So
now that I have self-indulgently told my entire story with FoCUS, what do I
think is best for the future of FoCUS? Frankly, I think it is dead. I think it
is time for it to end, unless it has dramatically revitalized since I was last
there. Groups and communities come and go, and that is normal and part of life.
I know a lot of people who would be very sad to see it go, and would probably
fight to keep it, but I see no point in driving down a road which I believe to
be a dead end. Perhaps give it a couple years to rest, continue the search for
a new college pastor, and then revitalize the group under a new leader.
The
Facebook event says that one current proposition the future of FoCUS is for it
to become a “learning institute” model that provides theological education
resources to existing campus groups. I don’t know what that means, but it
sounds like something that students would not be involved in. I am skeptical of
the benefit that that would provide to the campus community.
I
am not sure that this letter will even make it past the FoCUS partners, because
the Facebook event seems to indicate that they are looking for letters that
praise FoCUS and communicate the importance of keeping it alive as it is. My
letter does not serve that purpose. But my conscience will be at peace now that
I have written this all out and sent it, as that is all that I can do. And I do
feel some catharsis knowing that at least one other person now knows my story.
Sincerely,
Max
Vale
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