When I was a kid, life and God, right and wrong, good and bad were basic. The rules simply stated: God. Always. When not God, bad things happen. Period.
Which worked… until it didn’t.
Then all the years of wearing skirts to play sports, not cutting my hair, going to church every week at least 3 times a week.. disappeared. I was no longer chosen, no longer set apart. I was alone, and terribly, terribly lonely.
Where do you go when God was your life and you’re not allowed into His house anymore?
We’ve all got horror stories. Christians suck. They, we, should be the first to admit it. We should work harder on not.
But before we can change thousands of years of history and a mindset of generations… right now, what to do?
Every ad tells me I’m the ruler of my universe; that everything wants to be personalized to the way I see life. I can choose what to bind, what to loose, what to believe, what is right for me.
And if that’s true, then I should be able to do whatever I choose to, and not feel like I need forgiveness. Ever. My world, my rules, right?
Except. There’s me. Alone and in the quiet. There’s me and all my imperfections and pain.
To make better choices means I have to know more than I do. The choices made as a kid I wouldn’t choose now. That means I know something different now than I did then; imagine what I might know next year, or in the next decade.
This week, I made a choice I never thought I would. And even as something in me resonated wrongness – wrong choice, wrong situation, wrong. for. you. – I stayed in that space, with that choice. Choosing not to choose any differently.
Now I have another imperfection to echo through my lonely silence.
When I was kid, faith meant getting a hamburger if I’d not chicken out on being baptized. Now faith looks a lot like trying to fit together broken puzzle pieces.
And feels like trying to convince an aquaphobic the ocean’s really pretty: just because it is doesn’t mean it’s not still terrifying to consider.
Being the controller or customizer of my universe weighs too heavy on my shoulders. Conversely, God rarely mollifies usurpers.
And so… tomorrow I try again. Taking my broken puzzle and aquaphobic being to a sacred space, I’ll admit to my longing for more than just to rule my universe.
Which worked… until it didn’t.
Then all the years of wearing skirts to play sports, not cutting my hair, going to church every week at least 3 times a week.. disappeared. I was no longer chosen, no longer set apart. I was alone, and terribly, terribly lonely.
Where do you go when God was your life and you’re not allowed into His house anymore?
We’ve all got horror stories. Christians suck. They, we, should be the first to admit it. We should work harder on not.
But before we can change thousands of years of history and a mindset of generations… right now, what to do?
Every ad tells me I’m the ruler of my universe; that everything wants to be personalized to the way I see life. I can choose what to bind, what to loose, what to believe, what is right for me.
And if that’s true, then I should be able to do whatever I choose to, and not feel like I need forgiveness. Ever. My world, my rules, right?
Except. There’s me. Alone and in the quiet. There’s me and all my imperfections and pain.
To make better choices means I have to know more than I do. The choices made as a kid I wouldn’t choose now. That means I know something different now than I did then; imagine what I might know next year, or in the next decade.
This week, I made a choice I never thought I would. And even as something in me resonated wrongness – wrong choice, wrong situation, wrong. for. you. – I stayed in that space, with that choice. Choosing not to choose any differently.
Now I have another imperfection to echo through my lonely silence.
When I was kid, faith meant getting a hamburger if I’d not chicken out on being baptized. Now faith looks a lot like trying to fit together broken puzzle pieces.
And feels like trying to convince an aquaphobic the ocean’s really pretty: just because it is doesn’t mean it’s not still terrifying to consider.
Being the controller or customizer of my universe weighs too heavy on my shoulders. Conversely, God rarely mollifies usurpers.
And so… tomorrow I try again. Taking my broken puzzle and aquaphobic being to a sacred space, I’ll admit to my longing for more than just to rule my universe.
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