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
Comments