Life Focus Advanced. Soon after I turned 15, I received a letter about a new program called Life Focus Advanced. The concept of the program was this: two Life Focus graduates would room with a leader in training (LIT) for three months and try to counsel and help him out. I was like, “It’s the advanced version of what I just passed, and it promises a closer relationship with God! What’s not to want?”

I asked my folks to sign me up. They had some reservations about it because of the little bits and pieces they heard about Life Focus, but I was determined to go there, so I flew back to the Indianapolis Training Center (ITC). We had four days of counseling training from some Equip guys and our LIT’s showed up and moved into our suites on the fourth floor of ITC.

I remember working with the guy and not going outside for the first month I was there. We went to the churches we were allowed to attend, and we watched the Basic Seminar (fifth time for me) and helped him through various curriculum that was used for the kids in those programs. I had to grade his work. Plus go to weekly meetings with the rest of the team to learn about upcoming service projects. The work was constant, and I spent an hour in prayer and God’s Word every day.

The LIT would do things to me because he could get away with it. He slowly broke all of my things (pencils were all I had) and on occasion he would just sit there and choke me — I wouldn’t restrain him because I did not know how to respond in these situations — while the leader watched, until eventually telling the LIT to stop. We weren’t really trained how to deal with situations like this. There was one time with when the kid woke us up to mutter and jabber nonsense. It scared the crap out of us — we were both very sure that he was demon-possessed or something. But we had no training in how to deal with this kind of behavior. After we called one of the leaders in, he laughed at us and told us all to get some sleep.

On one occasion the LIT broke out of the room and made a break for it. I was slower than he was but without a definite plan in mind, he dashed by me and ran into the room. Again, the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “I’m going to kill you.” He nearly slammed my hands in the door and again, I was thrown into solitary confinement, without food, just me and Anger Resolution Seminar tapes. It turns out that at the same time as that incident, the state of Indiana was investigating ITC on illegal treatment of minors (abuse or something like that). Thus, I was hidden–not to be seen until the inspectors went home.

I finished up the program, and my leader and I tried to tell LIT’s father what he should do as a parent, which he was not ready to hear. (But really, what grown man is going to listen to a 15-year-old and a 16-year-old telling him how to raise his son?) What he wanted was for us to “fix” the kid–which we couldn’t.

I flew home and found that a lot of the LIT’s mannerisms and attitudes had rubbed off on me. I was saying some of the same bad stuff to my parents. Shocked, they asked me what happened, and I started crying. I was numb, unable to really explain to them what had gone on, because I didn’t understand it myself. All I knew was that I had major issues and needed some help — but I was unable to communicate those things to anyone because they were not problems, they were sin that needed to be confessed and punished, in the same way Martin Luther performed self-flagellation. But I was only 15.

ALERT. I went to the International ALERT Academy in September 2003 and was shocked to realize that not all ATI guys were soft, fun Boy Scouts like I had been accustomed to with my five years in ALERT Cadets. Immediately, with no warning or idea of what was going on, these guys came out screaming and yelling at us. We learned to respond according to the book, and if we didn’t respond correctly we were quickly corrected and given another shot. In this organization, girls did not exist. Literally. We had a 40-seconds-or less timer to talk to them. Anything more would be considered fraternization with the “enemy,” and promptly taken care of.

I failed my first basic (Unit 30) by blowing out my knee. I was too focused on staying with the status quo that I did not take care of myself. If I was to communicate anything at all to my chain of command, swift and stern punishments were carried out. That basic training experience was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was told that I was better than a quitter and I could go on despite the injury. My knee was in so much pain that I had to get medical help. I still failed the required 12-hour hike. I completed a mini-basic program called Mighty Man Team (M-Team for short) and was told I could do it, if I sucked up the pain and pushed on.

I went home and saw a doctor who took the fluid out and shot me up with some steroids. My dad took me aside and told me that if I didn’t pass Basic, I would always be a quitter. With that, I signed up for the next Basic and completed it with Unit 31 in May 2004. I did EMT-B and ESO and thought I had finally proven to myself that I am worth something.  I’m not a quitter.

My experience with ALERT was a good experience overall. Mainly because the rules and regulations were clearly laid out and the  training was led by men who really were trained in their area of expertise. Also the mission was laid out, and only a very small bit of ALERT had anything to do with ATI (except for the Conference and the very occasional visits from Mr. Gothard). I felt like I was in a good place, and I grew more from the discipleship with the other guys there than I ever did at ITC.

And then there was this girl…

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