Black Sheep

Somewhere along the side of the road on my faith journey, I started identifying myself as a black sheep. What is a black sheep you might ask?

They are usually regarded as a disgrace or troublemaker in what is a fairly homogenous culture. Why would I think such things about myself? For starters, I could never decide if I wanted to be a moral upstanding person or a let loose, follow my inhibitions, hedonistic lush. So I decided to be a little of both. Whenever I found myself among one group or the other, I would just hide the opposing side of me.

I got pregnant at 19 'out of wedlock', which in one of my cultural subsets, was a big no no. Thank goodness no one excommunicated me from church, they actually threw me a baby shower. Surprise! The side looks and whispers, that I thought were all about what a disgrace I was were only in my mind. The shame I felt was just a more pronounced version of a previous lie my subconscious had on repeat. I know that now, but I didn't then. Even if someone did disapprove, and surely they did, they at least had the manners to keep it well hidden. Thanks for that, whoever you are.

So where did I come up with this idea? Where did all the shame originate? I can't say for sure. We pick up on bits and pieces through out our life and it's hard to pinpoint the exact things that shape our beliefs. I would say there was an overall tone of disapproval I felt from the image of God I had come to know. It was a no gray area, red and angry faced God. I was a sensitive child, afraid to rock the boat but also more afraid to ignore the questions I had about life. I am what you get when you mix hippies and conservative fundamentalism.

How ironic though is it, that this event, this 'crisis pregnancy' is also one of the most defining times in my life where I actually felt like I experienced God? I actually experienced grace. Not only from (most of) the people around me but an internal sense that everything was going to work out. My idea of this fire and brimstone, hyper moralistic, archaic God was fading and a softer, less easily defined God slipped in ever so slowly.

This softer God I was learning didn't have harsh lines drawn around him, he was much more mysterious and abstract, unexpected even. The more I learned about this God and transferred it to what I knew of Jesus, I saw a different side to the stories about him too. Some would call him subversive, a black sheep himself. I think he got on people's nerves, made them roll their eyes, question themselves (no one really likes that). They couldn't control him, couldn't categorize him. He certainly didn't follow the script my childhood experiences had wrote for him, he was much edgier and somehow nicer. He actually liked me, he was okay with me even when I wasn't okay with myself.

Despite this realization, it took my subconscious awhile to catch up. Sometimes I feel it still is. Core beliefs and thinking patterns that have so long been engrained often just keep rolling around like bad pennies. They are songs stuck on repeat until we develop enough awareness to hit pause. Eventually, I'm hoping we hit stop and start a new song.

How I viewed God had so much to do with how I *thought* he viewed me. I was so afraid to accept all the parts of myself, the parts that didn't fit with how I wanted to be seen. The scars and sins and habits and bad theology I would act out over and over again. I had an iron grip of control on other peoples thoughts and perceptions of me. This control created a self perpetuating isolation. By always hiding these parts of myself I was setting a standard for how honest and real others felt they could be around me. I created shallow relationships and in turn, an unsatisfied soul.

Black sheep syndrome is an unconsciously created cycle. We can't feel accepted by others when we don't wholly accept ourselves. Sometimes we think we have done the work it takes to be ok with all our parts that don't fit how we want to be seen and then something happens that will highlight our so called weakness or vice or thing that makes us feel less than. And something always does happen because we are paranoid about this thing and we will see it even when no one else does. On the flip side, when I practice showing up and not trying to hold all the pieces together, I feel more at ease (despite the vulnerability it costs) because Im showing up wholeheartedly and unashamedly. Places where I do open up (this blog is a great practice space) has shown me that when I'm brave enough to bring my whole self instead of attempting to blend with the flock, the right people, fellow black sheep, come out of the woodwork and say, "oh yeah, I'm like that too."

What if the truth you're not telling is your gift to the world? The part of yourself that you're hiding could be exactly what someone else is waiting to hear to break free of their own shame.

I'll leave you with this from Nadia Bolz Weber because it feels applicable:

Blessed are the agnostics.

Blessed are they who doubt. Those who aren’t sure, who can still be surprised.

Blessed are they who are spiritually impoverished and therefore not so certain about everything that they no longer take in new information.

Blessed are those who have nothing to offer. Blessed are the preschoolers who cut in line at communion. Blessed are the poor in spirit. You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

Blessed are they for whom death is not an abstraction.

Blessed are they who have buried their loved ones, for whom tears could fill an ocean. Blessed are they who have loved enough to know what loss feels like.

Blessed are the mothers of the miscarried.

Blessed are they who don’t have the luxury of taking things for granted anymore.

Blessed are they who can’t fall apart because they have to keep it together for everyone else.

Blessed are those who “still aren’t over it yet.” 

Blessed are those who mourn.

Blessed are those who no one else notices. The kids who sit alone at middle-school lunch tables. The laundry guys at the hospital. The sex workers and the night-shift street sweepers.

Blessed are the forgotten. Blessed are the closeted.

Blessed are the unemployed, the unimpressive, the underrepresented.

Blessed are the teens who have to figure out ways to hide the new cuts on their arms. Blessed are the meek.

You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

Blessed are the wrongly accused, the ones who never catch a break, the ones for whom life is hard, for Jesus chose to surround himself with people like them.

Blessed are those without documentation. Blessed are the ones without lobbyists.

Blessed are foster kids and special-ed kids and every other kid who just wants to feel safe and loved.

Blessed are those who make terrible business decisions for the sake of people.

Blessed are the burned-out social workers and the overworked teachers and the pro bono case takers.

Blessed are the kindhearted football players and the fundraising trophy wives.

Blessed are the kids who step between the bullies and the weak. Blessed are they who hear that they are forgiven.

Blessed is everyone who has ever forgiven me when I didn’t deserve it.

Blessed are the merciful, for they totally get it

You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

(ps this is not political and if you view it as such, you may have missed the point)

This post was in part inspired by episode 28 of the Fight for Together podcast, if you are into dissecting your faith, aren't afraid of different perspectives (or strong language) give it a listen, its one of my favorites!

Thanks for being here today,

Jenna

When Church Hurts

We've all been there, maybe we are there now.

We walk in to the sights and sounds of church. We hear the music playing and people singing, we shake hands and smile. We sit in our usual seat, because we are creatures of habit. It's that same habit that brought us here, or perhaps brought the person who drug us along. In our minds though, we are not here. We are far away. We are thinking about lunch or studying the back of the person's head in front of us. We are thinking about how we are tired and wondering why we are here. We are thinking about that person that said that thing that hurt us. We are wishing the niggling doubt in the back of our minds wasn't there.

but we keep coming back........or maybe we don't.

I don't want to stir up negativity or criticism about the church. There are plenty of people who are in love and at home with their place in church. I cheer those people on and encourage you to keep making your congregation a great one, but you might not want to throw the towel in on this post just yet. There's a subset of people who don't feel the same, at all. You see, it needs to be known: those people are there. More importantly, if we are those people,  the ones who have a prickly relationship with church, we need a voice.

People deal with this disillusionment in a myriad of ways. They might church hop. They might dig in their heels and sign up to volunteer more or join another Bible study. They may try and change what they don't like about their current church. Very rarely, do we undergo the soul excavation it takes to find out why we are so unsettled in church in the first place. Rarely do we just honestly say out loud to a trusted friend: I want to break up with church!

It might feel scary, like opening pandoras box to voice these thoughts. It can feel traitorous, shameful.

"What would so and so think? Im not allowed to feel this way, am I? There must be something wrong with me, wrong with my faith..."

Wait. Consider this...

The church is a living, breathing organism.

It's not the building we envision, it's the collective culture that is made up by the humans inside and all around the world who call themselves believers. It's the beliefs that they represent and live out. Oh and hey..its NOT God. (btw there are times when God has expressed that He has mixed feelings about the church, and he is brutally honest about it in the first several chapters of Revelation).

So maybe its ok to feel like this? Maybe our relationship with the church is like any other relationship in our lives, our marriages, our friendships, our children and parents. Think about these people for a minute and how your relationships have shifted over time.  Some change naturally as we grow and develop as individuals, some come to an end perhaps by our choice and new relationships bloom in their place. Some grow at a rapid pace, others a slow and steady progression. Our whole lives, this evolving of our relationships is taking place. Why would our relationship with the Church be any different?

Our desire to withdraw can be stemming from LOTS of origins. Church baggage: someone hurt us/ignored us/judged us. God baggage: we are mad/sad/bored/scared with Him. Belief baggage: we are outgrowing what we once believed to be true or we don't agree with the way our particular local church is exercising their beliefs. Maybe we are scared to admit we don't really know what we believe. The list goes on and on...

This post has sat in my draft archives for a long time now just looking at me with big sad eyes. Every time I go to write something else I keep ending up back here. It will just not leave me alone! the truth is : I didn't want to write about this because I am still in the midst of living it. I don't have any answers or anything new to say about the subject. However, I bump up against too many people that feel they are on the outskirts. So this post is just to acknowledge that if you feel this way you aren't alone.

The real question is : what do we do now?

A good starting place is just to acknowledge that tiny voice you have pushed down for so long...write it down, talk to someone, read about it, join in conversations others have started about it. 

I know I was terrified to do this because of what I might find once I started digging. I was afraid I might justify myself from going to church all together and I could not let that happen. However, once I did let that happen, it wasn't so bad. I actually found myself missing church, warts and all. There have been seasons of life where physically I have been unable to attend consistently because of health reasons. Then when I was ready to go back, it all felt so raw. My emotions were razor sharp and it took a certain amount of composure to just sit there and weep quietly without making scene. At times that feels good, like we are sweeping out the cobwebs from the corners. At other times, we simply can't endure that. 

Taking a step back to reevaluate does not need to be shameful. Sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees, you need to zoom out and hold something at arms length to get a better perspective. I feel like some would say, "NO just keep going, at all costs, keep filling a pew or theater seat or whatever! Those feelings will subside eventually, they are JUST feelings. The Bible says not to forsake meeting together as some are in the habit of doing" Maybe there's truth in that approach (although I'm not a huge fan of ignoring feelings anymore) maybe you can sort through things when you are wading knee deep in murky waters. Maybe you have a good community you can be honest with about this and will help you process, where you feel safe to ugly cry and confess your doubts. My guess is though if you have that you are less likely to be in this situation in the first place. Anytime I have felt anchored in community all of this seemed easier to cope with and I have a feeling this is way it was meant to work.

SO what if you don't have that sense of belonging that keeps you there? What if you don't fit or you moved or they moved or the church split or whatever...

For me? I took to solitude and resting in God. I talked about it with a few trusted friends/mentors. I wrote ALOT, I listened ALOT. I went to church only when I wanted to. I can't say if this is right for you or your situation, this is just the path I took. Right now, Im not actively engaged in a local church although I do call my local mega church home. Right now, Im ready to try and get more involved although I'm a little scared and not sure what it will look like, but I am ready to try again. 

Basically I just wanted to say, if any part of this resonates with you...I'm here too.

And there are others, we're just not always easy to find because this is a hard thing to be honest about. I'm hoping by speaking up myself, maybe it will be less hard for others and little less lonely.

Where are you in your relationship with church? Have you been here before? What did you find helpful?

Thanks for being here today,

Jenna

Art and Stuckness

Ive been feeling stuck for a bit. And by a bit I mean the better part of last year. A lot of BIG changes, some good, some absolutely horrific. I lost family members and I felt like I lost a little part of myself. We moved to a different part of our city, a much slower, greener part. We put our oldest two in public school after homeschooling for years. After all the dust is settling from these changes, I found myself at a loss for words (or maybe the better way to say it is: at a loss of words that I was willing to share in a public space).

There have been other times where I have been cut off from creating in the way I wanted to. Whether its because I deemed it too unimportant or was just physically unable. One such time was after recovering from a long hospitalization and my fingers on my left hand were basically immobilized (read the long explanation here and short version here if you want back story). I thought I would not be able to type or paint or draw. Most of the surgeons I saw recommended amputation and the physical therapists wanted to do excruciating stretching and splinting. I went to sleep every night dreading the eventual outcome. A still small whisper insisted that it was ok to just wait and do nothing too. Now 4 years later, I have still have the contractured fingers but the pain has decreased to a manageable amount and I'm able to draw, type/write, paint, and craft or at least figure out a modified way to do these things.

I'm so incredibly grateful for these outlets and that somehow I have stumbled into learning how to utilize them as self care tools. So during this season of grief where my own words were failing me, I knew I'd have to rely on other creative outlets. In a way drawing and painting is a bit like writing. There is blankness and void, intimidating at times, yes, but in the right ebb and flow of inspiration therenis pure excitement because it means there is potential; space to convey an idea, lines and shapes and colors put together in a way that stirs something inside. Like music flowing over us we can't explain the emotions it brings rise to in the moment. I'm sure there is a scientific explanation to it but whatever it is, its good for our soul, for the unseen parts of us that need tended to.

So while I was (am) grieving and transitioning, I use these things to ever so slowly heal. I sit back and listen to words and consume art among other things that fuel creativity. Then eventually I start copying what I see and as the pain eases I can put my own spin on things and one day I wake up with original ideas. What I discover over and over again is that by incorporating art into my everyday, I can express things that our limited language struggles to convey.

I encounter some people who say, "I'm just not the creative type." I suppose if we view art simply in terms of Shakespeare and the Louvre, then yeah, we're all going to fall short. What if we can expand our definition of art and creativity to include things like discovering new music that we love so much we play over and over, putting together slideshows of family photos, rearranging furniture, trying a new meatloaf recipe while dancing around the kitchen for fun? The point is creating for me is less about the outcome and more about the process. Just going through the motions of doing something new, bringing life out of something that felt stagnant, can be a breath of fresh air that we begin to feel suffocated without.

How do you incorporate creativity into your everyday? How do you feel when you don't?