Tag Archives: judgment

May23

Biting off more than I can chew

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Biting off more than I can chew

“Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean making things the way they were, sometimes it means making things the way they’re supposed to be.” Jill Lillis

If I haven’t had much to say lately, it’s because I’m pretty soundly confused much of the time and, out of my as-of-yet-to-be conquered fear of a poor public opinion, I’ve made this blog more about essays on revelations I’ve grasped and vague ramblings on the things I haven’t rather than anything at all about an actual journey to wholeness.

The truth of my journey at the moment is that, from all outward appearances, I seem to have entirely lost the path and, from an inward perspective, I still seem to be very much on it.

I warned you I was confused.

I’ve made a series of decisions over the last year that have come with some consequences to be certain. The first was last March, when I began socially drinking. The second was in December when I entered into an intimate relationship with a fantastic guy who happens to not be a Christian.

Have you gasped and moved on yet? This post is not meant to be about me and alcohol so I’ll not make it, but I will say, for those who I imagine are concerned, I am fine and balanced and, for the most part, not “prone to drunkenness” as the Bible warns against. Now that it’s out, I’m sure there will be more on that later.

Now then, I wish I’d been writing truthfully about these things all along, about all of it. The last year has been one of both incredible highs and lows. I’ve failed in some areas deeply and, in that, learned valuable lessons. In other areas I’ve pushed past opinion and bias and broken through legalism in a way that I’d only talked about in theory previously. As an aside from the point here (if indeed I even have one), I’ll offer that the steps one must take in order to truly step outside of religion and legalism are not at all pleasant and tend to be not at all popular.

One of the primary consequences of my decisions is that I am no longer singing in church and with church groups. Again, this is not about that, though I’m sure another post one day will be. The circumstances in which that consequence came about was handled poorly and dealt to me painfully and caused a divide between me and the church I call home.

And, in short, that’s where I am today.

Today in church, during the worship service, I was meditating on how unfulfilled my life feels when God is not the very center of it. (I’m often meditating on missing the wholeness of God during worship services as I still only feel my truest and deepest self with Him in music and I can only feel like I am sharing in His heart fully when I am singing for others to find it.) I stood and sang, quietly, and wondered what if I could go back to the way things were? What if I could undo the decisions that had put me on the outside of a intimate group and take my place once more?

My journal from this moment reads:

“I cannot stand to be this far from God. And yet, here in church, I look around, and I cannot bear the thought of plugging back into this. It is so hollow. Accomplishing nothing. Self-focused. Empty. Is this my choice?! Is this what I should give up a life I love for? I cannot stand the idea of it. I don’t want anything that isn’t true and authentic and effective. What shall I do, God? Where shall I go?!”

And then that services worship leader, Jill Lillis’ words are written there, as if God were answering me without a moments hesitation, “Restoration doesn’t necessarily mean making things the way they were, sometimes it means making things the way they’re supposed to be.”

This evening I called a dear (and wise) friend. My intention in making the call was to tell her about a great sale I’d been to that day and encourage her to go shopping for herself. We ended up discussing this topic instead for an impassioned hour.

While she’s also one of my best friends, she apologized to me, as the ministry leader for more than one of the ministries I was formerly involved in, for not seeing me for who (and where) I actually was, for expecting more out of me than I was mature enough or ready to give and for giving me too much leadership too soon. I don’t hold her responsible, of course, for this separation I feel now, but her words brought some comfort and some confirmation. I’d been feeling, months ago, like I’d made a grievous mistake in not being completely genuine when I first began to attend my church home; feeling like I’d been more interested in portraying the proper image to what I felt was the suspect church eye, than in authenticating who I was to God and He to me. I was so focused on proving to my family (first and foremost) and to my new church family that I wasn’t the same old Seana, that I wasn’t that ‘rehab kid’, that I was committed to God and to my future with Him, that I lost sight of my actual relationship. I began to act the part instead of living the truth and what was true and good (that I am not the ‘same old Seana’ and that I am committed and in love with God) began to become corrupted from within.

And then, when I began to demand of myself that I be genuine before I be well-esteemed my outwardly seeming perfect peace began to crumble. In my dedication to playing a role, I had not paid careful enough attention to my very foundation.

My friend, in her wisdom, also said on the phone tonight that she feels like I’m where God intends me to be right now, that in and through this, I am finding my authenticity with Him.

I’d like to think when all is said is done I’ll not only be alive in Him and Him in me but I’ll have stumbled upon the place where He intends me to be relevant to His as-of-yet unchurched people.

And so, here I am. Lost in the thickets of daily revelations, out of sight from the main path but certain it’s just around every corner. I have a suspicion, however, that by the time I find the main path again, God won’t have me traveling it any longer. I have a sneaking feeling that I’m not going to be walking the popular path for a good long while to come.

After the last couple of months, a big part of me kind of hopes not.

As a final thought, I apologize to my readers for not being more forthcoming prior to this and for not chronicling with better truth the journey I promised to share. I’ll be more mindful (and less afraid) in the future.

Dec5

Life Outside The Box (let there be cake!)

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Life Outside The Box (let there be cake!)

  This Christian walk stuff is not easy. Granted, that’s not the most original thought I’ve ever had, I don’t think there’s a whole lot of people who assume that Christianity is easy, but sometimes it strikes me just how difficult of a path this can be. I’m not even talking about the do and don’t lists. In fact, the commandments can be the easy part. If I’m on a strict diet, I don’t eat cake, pretty simple. But if I’m just “watching what I eat”, if it’s a “lifestyle”, do I eat cake? If so, how much? It’s the Christian life compromised that’s impossibly difficult and, as my dieter friends can relate to, once you take that first bite of cake it’s just a little bit harder not to have french fries the next time.

But, really, “Christian life compromised” isn’t the right term, although, when one isn’t careful it does seem to be the end result. I guess what I mean to say is, it’s relatively easy to be a Christian and to walk roads soundly investigated, approved and maintained by the traditional church. It isn’t difficult to live life uncompromised on Sunday morning or at a gathering of like minded friends and family. It isn’t hard to stand your ground when no one is challenging you, or tempting you. On a diet, following a regimented menu laid out for you by a more studied individual isn’t very tough, in the short term. It’s when you decide to rework your very lifestyle to embody health and fitness in a way that’s real and lasting for you that challenges come.

Legalism can be easier to live in than grace. I think it’s why we’re drawn there. We just feel better when someone is telling us what to do, like if we follow all the rules, we know we’re getting it right. Religion based in fear. Pharisees.

I live a lot of my life outside what the church considers comfortable confines. The local pub (a community gathering spot), the homes of non-christian friends, music festivals; many of the places where I most feel at home, and the most free to be myself, are outside of the traditional black and white territory of the church. It can be hard, sometimes, to overcome mindsets taught to me as a child by strict Christian parents, even in myself. I find myself arguing the propriety of my choices, comparing them to those of my other Christian friends, and wondering if I’ve completely lost my way and the Holy Spirit forgot to tell me. Should the topic come up, of my friendships and hangouts, I find myself justifying my beliefs to an inquisitive, concerned or sometimes accusing church family member. Mostly, though, I just sort of keep quiet about it, worried I’ll be thought of as less of a Christian, that, in their concern for me and out of homage to the tradition of rules and clearly defined right and wrong, I’ll be ousted from ministry and deemed among the lost.

Don’t get me wrong, I have lots of friends who are Christians, and I love them and time with them, too. I just haven’t limited myself to only that and only there. There’s a lot of reasons and, to be honest, evangelism wasn’t originally one of them. But, as I’ve prayed through these struggles, what seems clear to me is this: Jesus hung out with some pretty shady characters, and He wasn’t preaching or handing out tracts or condemning choices and lifestyles, sometimes he was just eating dinner. I think repentance is born of relationship. I think it’s unwise to overlook the importance of being an “out-Christian” in a secular world, a position that requires us to actually step foot into the secular world. I believe that I’m laying a foundation for some of the people I meet and interact with, that I’m planting a seed that will one day be harvested.

But sometimes, I wish I didn’t feel so alone while I was doing it. I wish that I could go to my church and share the particular difficulties that come from living for Christ while in relationship with a world who isn’t. We all sin and all sins are equal in God’s eyes but, truth be told, they’re not in the eyes of the church; and in an environment so readily given to judgment, it isn’t easy, or even wise, to share the struggles unique to a life outside of the box.

Which brings me back to my original point. This stuff isn’t easy. There’s a whole lot to figure out, a whole lot of two steps forward and one step back. There is, at the end of the day, a whole lot of growth.

And maybe that’s what makes it all worthwhile. Lonely, perhaps, a little lacking in the usable advice department, but worth it.

Sep6

Epiphany (one): I’ve been judging you.

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  So, if, as mentioned in the previous post, I have a lot to say and I haven’t been saying it, there must be a reason, right? That foundational starting place is, of course, Epiphany 1. Even now, with barely a thought to page and my head clouded with the words to come I’d like to skip this part and go straight on to what it all means to me and to the idea of identity as a whole. Once again I’m reminded, one can’t share the truth without exposing the process.

 Epiphany 1: I’ve been judging you.

 I’ve been locked in a cyclical process: identifying myself-now as myself-then; realizing such; over-correcting the issue; realizing such; and correcting my way full circle through a slow slide all the way back to identifying myself incorrectly. Without fail the process always starts when I am untrue about who I am, when, within any of my circles of reality or spheres of influence, I am not wholly myself. To go further here would be to introduce Epiphany 2 and skip over the rest of Epiphany 1 (tempting) so I’ll say no more about it just now.

 What does any of that have to do with me unfairly judging you?

 I’ve been not saying anything about the struggle of my process, keeping quiet about the fullness of who I am out of fear that I would lose precious friendships if I were unabashedly me. I’ve tiptoed the balance beam over popular opinion and fear of man so long that I find myself with friends who do not know me and at war with my very self.

 I war against judgment and believe in acceptance of a person for humanity’s sake without regard to the how and why of their life and lifestyle. It’s true that change is a beautiful and necessary part of growth and redemption and true liberation, but it would be wrong to allow any perception I may have of how you should or could change affect whether or not I can embrace you for who you are in your today. I have not extended that grace to myself.

 The truth of the matter is, I have as much right to be wholly me as you have to be wholly you. The larger truth is that I have no reason to believe that you don’t agree with me on that. I’ve been so quick to assume that you are judging me that I haven’t given you the chance to prove that you’re not.

 I’ve been judging you by assuming what your reaction would be to me if I let you know all facets of who I am. I’ve been judging myself harshly through your eyes and not giving you the opportunity to prove me wrong. Most regrettably, I’ve been keeping pieces of myself from you because of the assumptions I’ve been living in.

 My irrational fear of your potential judgment has kept a wall between us that was never meant to be there.

 There is, of course, good news – that my eyes have been opened to how I’ve allowed my misconceptions to color my person is a remarkable epiphany and, once realized, not easily ignored. I may not be entirely wrong, as I begin this journey to being wholly me in every circle I travel, I may indeed find myself facing judgment and misinterpretation. I suppose that is a bridge I’ll cross when I come to it.

 If my choice is to be entirely me and, perhaps, lose a few friendships or to keep all of my friendships at the cost of being myself, I’ll choose the former. In the meantime, I’m sorry for judging you, I’m going to work hard to keep it from happening again.