There are seasons in our lives that shape us far more than their brevity would suggest. Moments that become milestones, conversations that become convictions, and experiences that become the lens through which we view everything thereafter. Often, these formative periods arrive without warning—and frequently when we’re still young enough that our bones are growing faster than our wisdom.
For me, that season was sixth grade. Those nine months between elementary school’s simplicity and the teenage years’ complexity became the training ground for much of my perspective on faith, identity, and purpose. In the hallways and classrooms of that middle school in Tulsa, Oklahoma, God was already at work—using lunch tables and locker assignments to prepare me for spiritual truths I wouldn’t fully comprehend until decades later.
The Battlefield of Middle School
Sixth grade wasn’t school—it was a battlefield. Hormones are flying everywhere. Kids growing six inches overnight while others stayed tiny. Girls passing notes. Boys shoving each other into lockers. Cliques forming and dissolving daily. Cafeteria tables might as well have had invisible force fields around them. And there I was—the new kid, fresh from New York, dropped into Tulsa like an alien invasion. Accent? Different. Culture? Different. And for the first time, I learned—being light-skinned was a thing. This is Part 1 of my series: How Sixth Grade Prepared Me for Everything.
My dad packed us up and moved us to Tulsa, Oklahoma, for work. I walked into my new school with my New York accent, feeling like I just got dropped into a different universe. The first day, some kid heard me talk and said, “Yo, why you sound like that?”
I had never been “the kid with the accent.” I was just… me. But now? I was the new, weird-sounding, light-skinned kid trying to figure out where I fit. Sixth grade wasn’t just school—it was diplomacy.
And this was my first experience with colorism. This was also my first time being in a predominantly Black, culturally urban environment—a stark contrast from my previous school. Long before Drake and Chris Brown, light-skinned Michael Jackson and Prince ruled the charts, and Al B. Sure had every girl swooning. Turns out, being light-skinned came with perks I never asked for. Girls liked it. Dudes? Not so much.
The Illusion of Neutrality
Sixth grade is when you start noticing girls and figuring out your identity. The hallways were like a chaotic chess board—everyone making strategic moves. Popular kids striding down the middle. Wannabes orbiting around them like satellites. Teachers yelling “No running!” while dodging backpacks the size of small cars. Every lunch table a different universe with its own unwritten constitution. I had choices: Stay the quiet, semi-religious kid with a Bible in my backpack. Join the jocks with their permanent smell of gym class. Roll with the nerds who could recite every Star Wars line. Hang with the wild crowd already practicing their rebellious teenage years early. Pretend none of this mattered and float in the middle. Spoiler: Life doesn’t let you float.
At first, I tried to be neutral—friendly to everybody, avoid drama, and stay cool. But sixth grade had other plans. If you don’t pick a side, the side picks you.
One day at lunch, a kid walks up to me and says, “Ayo, you gotta decide—who you really roll with?” It wasn’t a question. It was a test. I had been treating school like a peaceful coexistence. They saw it as a battlefield.
And that’s when I learned: You can’t be neutral forever. Life forces you to pick a side. Friendships. Faith. What you stand for. At some point, you have to own where you stand. Or someone will choose for you.
The Theological Reality: No Middle Ground
Looking back, I see how that moment in the cafeteria reflects the truth Jesus spoke when He said, “Whoever is not with me is against me” (Matthew 12:30). Christ was clear about this reality—there is no middle ground in matters of faith and allegiance. What I experienced with those middle school cliques was just a glimpse of the greater spiritual choice we all face.
Think about it. Joshua challenged the Israelites with that powerful declaration: “Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15). He didn’t offer an “undecided” option. This same principle applies in my life today—I can’t serve two masters. I can’t stand in the middle. I can’t please everyone and still stand firmly for what matters.
Scripture consistently portrays faith as a matter of decisive choice. In Revelation 3:15-16, Christ addresses the church in Laodicea, saying, “I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” The language is stark and uncompromising—lukewarm faith is rejected.
The prophet Elijah confronted Israel with a similar challenge on Mount Carmel: “How long will you go limping between two different opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). This pattern repeats throughout Scripture—choosing God requires decision, commitment, and often separation from competing allegiances.
The Daily Choice
That moment in the cafeteria was just God preparing me for the bigger question: Who do you REALLY roll with? Christ or the world? His kingdom or yours? That sixth-grade pressure was just training wheels for the real spiritual battle we face daily.
The Apostle Paul understood this when he wrote, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2). This transformation requires an intentional turning away from worldly patterns and toward God’s design.
James puts it even more bluntly: “Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God” (James 4:4). The language of “enmity” and “enemy” reinforces that neutrality is not an option in our relationship with God.
And here’s the wild part—do you ever catch yourself trying to be neutral? Trying not to ruffle feathers? Trying to stay cool with God and cool with the world at the same time? I know I do. But that kid in the lunch room knew what was up before I did: sooner or later, you gotta pick a side.
In Deuteronomy 30:19, Moses presents the ultimate binary choice: “I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live.” In God’s economy, there is no third option. We either choose Him and life, or by default, we choose death.
This was just the beginning of the lessons sixth grade taught me. The classroom of middle school prepared me for more than just high school—it shaped my understanding of faith, identity, and the courage to stand firm in a world that constantly asks us to compromise.
This article is the first in a series entitled “How Sixth Grade Prepared Me for Everything.”
