Not a Child Anymore

In 1976, when I was fifteen years old, I went to Karl-Marx-Stadt for the monthly youth service held by the well-known pastor Theo Lehmann. It was fascinating because his words made us feel strong and indomitable in a world that didn't like us Christians, and even less pastor's children. We belted out worship songs to a cool band and I also got to know the singer-songwriter Wolfgang Tost.

During the breaks, we stood around, looking for familiar faces, and often we had some very heartwarming moments together, since we usually hadn't seen each other for a month. When I was talking to an acquaintance, I noticed a handsome young man with black hair and a loving face. I was captivated and asked my friend if he knew him. He claimed that he was his friend and asked me if I liked him. Well, I was fifteen, but yes, he had something! He asked me if he should go to him and ask him if he might be interested in me. I just stammered that he certainly didn't want to, but by that time he was already standing next to him and said quite unabashedly that I would like to have him as a friend. That boy looked at me gently and immediately said yes; I could hardly believe it! He then came to me and we exchanged our addresses; mobile phones did not yet exist in the GDR. After that, we wrote letters, and I am still impressed today by how deeply religious he was. Each letter breathed JESUS and he more and more also showed his love for me in his writing. My heart pounded every time the postman brought another letter, and I wrote back diligently.

At some point we started missing each other and decided for a neutral place to meet, because as a pastor's daughter in a village I was not really invisible. Looking back, these were very happy hours, because he was the first man in my life and with him I experienced unconditional love, which was long awaited water for my thirsty soul.

We settled slowly into our relationship, since he knew my age well and was a man with a strong sense of responsibility to God and to people. At some point we made the mistake of meeting directly in the village; not near my father, of course, but it didn't go unnoticed.

My father was very angry - he had noticed the many letters and had been saying for a long time that I should break up with that boy. But I had told him that I loved him and that we wanted to get married one day, which he had ignored. I think that he was mainly concerned with his good reputation and what people would think. He didn't care about my hopes and what I had in my heart. This was only natural, I thought, because he had not yet seen our pure thoughts. So I gave him a few letters to read in order to gain his trust and so that he could see that my boyfriend was a man of honor. But I was about to bitterly regret that!

In the village there was a young man - his luck that I have forgotten his name, because otherwise I would have confronted him! Maybe he had also worked for the GDR-secret service, the "Stasi". The spies were everywhere. Men and women with whom my parents shared their few belongings with, later tattled their thoughts and conversations to the authorities. From this perspective I could understand a bit my father's anger about my liaison. But he was ready to sacrifice our wishes and hopes, in order to remain a stainless clergyman, which I certainly would have never acknowledged! Anyway, this young men was probably ringing the doorbell and telling my dad where I had been having my meetings with my love. Next, he was cycling to us, telling us "you have to escape swiftly! Your father is on the way to you!" I even said thanks, because I was gullible and only later got to know the real sequence of events. Nevertheless, soon after, my dad arrived and ended up catching us several more times, forcing us to change our meeting points.

I oftentimes went for a walk with my boyfriend, and we had a lot to discuss. It was more of a platonic relationship, but a very loving one. When my father became more and more angry, my mother said to me: "Girl please, break up with him, otherwise my marriage will go down the drains." I didn't know that my father had also burdened my mother with it so much that she could hardly stand it psychologically. So we changed our meeting points to the neighboring village. It wasn't the ideal solution, but at least we were able to talk without interruptions and enjoy our time together. When we saw each other again, I received the most beautiful love letter of my life. He had written a poem for me, a quatrain with four stanzas - no one had ever done anything like that for me. I can't put my feelings from back then into words. One has to experience it for himself.

I was fifteen at the time and he was twenty-one. I looked up to him and loved him with all the fibers of my being. A few days later, another letter arrived, this time to be picked up personally from a woman from our village. I thought: That's so clever, considering my parents most probable reaction. I went there beaming with joy and when I was back in my room and alone, I opened the letter and read... and the world around me shattered into pieces of pain. It was a farewell letter that tore my heart apart. He claimed that he didn't love me anymore, but I knew it was a lie. Yet, I also felt the finality behind these words and I cried bitterly. The man who had written me such a beautiful letter just days before had now left me alone in my pain. I couldn't make sense of it all; something was really wrong here, there was no chance - neither to change nor to understand that. Eventually, a thought crossed my min - that perhaps my father was somehow involved in all of this. And indeed - when I confronted him he admitted, that he had noted the address of my boyfriend when reading the letters, and in turn had sent letters to him. I believe it was because of his authority as a pastor and his threat to involve the police because I was still underage, that my boyfriend had walked away. The pain back then felt like ripping my heart in two. I cried for over a year after this and was wishing to move out of home from then on. Only many years later, I talked to my father and was able to forgive him.

When I was sixteen years old, I once again went to the youth service with Theo Lehmann in Karl-Marx-Stadt. Somehow, I hoped to see him again, but I never again did. Years later, I learned that it hadn't just been the pressure from my parents and my father's letter that had prompted him to end our relationship. His parents had also made life difficult for him. Yet, he has never told me that because he didn't want to burden me. He was a great man and a deeply religious Christian.

Usually, the youth service was in the castle church, but due to its deteriorating condition and the urgent need for repairs, we gathered at the Petri-curch instead. This service was a little different, because there was no band playing, but a gospel choir was singing. We cheered and clapped so much that our hands hurt. But when you're young, it's easy to get swept up in the excitement. And then followed the sermon; the topic was: "Living anew with Jesus."

Theo Lehmann was a passionate pastor who had Jesus in his heart and on his lips. He infected many young people with his enthusiasm. Each time he preached, young people gave their lives to our Lord and Savior. We called this "conversion" in Christian circles. On this Sunday, I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, as if I were the only one in the room. I felt a gentle pulling and luring from Jesus and knew that I wanted to entrust my life to HIM. My whole being placed firmly in His hand - that's exactly what I wanted.

So, after the service, I felt dazed as I made my way to the front, where they were packing up the equipment, and he assisted them. When I realized that they weren't taking my gentle glance seriously, I decided to make my presence known. He simply said, "You're the only one here today. Do you want to talk to me, or would you prefer to speak with a woman? At that moment, I didn't mind at all; even his sober tone of voice couldn't stop me from taking this step deliberately. I was then sent to an older woman; she had something motherly about her and I was glad to have decided for her.

Many tears flowed as I poured out all my grief, sharing my worries about my parents, the burdens of being a pastor's daughter, the saga of my great love - everything that weighed on my heart, simply everything. It was so comforting to have someone really listening! She only rarely interrupted me with small questions to correct me where I had made mistakes and had become guilty before God. She asked me if I was ready to confess my sins, and so we knelt in front of a small altar. It was very moving, and I was very close to God in my heart. I asked if she would write a letter for me, because I had to know why my boyfriend broke up with me and she promised it to me. A few days later she wrote to me that he had answered and remained with his answer that he didn't feel anything for me anymore. And while I knew that this was not true, I gave up.

As I said goodbye to this kind woman, a chill of fear gripped me. I realized I was going to miss my train, and I was panicking. But, God had prepared for even that, and a Christian worker offered to take me on the back of his moped to the train station. Thanks to his help, I just made it in time.

When I arrived at home, I was still filled with the Holy Spirit and I told my parents beaming with joy, that I had repented and decided for a life with Jesus. Their reaction was subdued: "Now she is exaggerating again!" But God...