My Unexpected Journey

When I came to seminary one year ago, I was expecting to get all the answers. I was expecting someone to tell me the Truth (with a capital T), and tell me exactly how to go about sharing that Truth with others. Instead, they’re letting me find it on my own, and in the process, everything is getting more complicated and less sound. I was expecting seminary to clean up the mess in my mind, and in reality, it’s making it worse. Which, although it feels unfortunate, is actually a blessing—I think.

I was born a listener and spent my life trying to stop listening and start doing. Madeleine L’Engle talks of the importance of listening and explains how when children begin to ‘grow up’ they actually forget how to listen—to themselves and the world around them. She goes on to say: “Sometimes when we listen, we are led into places we do not expect, into adventures we do not always understand.” Being open to something we didn’t expect and don’t understand? That seems entirely uncomfortable and contrary to most ‘adult’ ways of living in this world. Why would we ever do such a thing? Interrupting the flow and rhythm of life? That’s quite scary for most people, myself included. My mind, like most ‘adult’ minds, has gotten pretty good at logically analyzing and thinking through options and situations. But logic does not always get us where we’re supposed to be.

When my boys were 1, 4, and 7, I enrolled at Northeastern Seminary, which led to this unforeseen opportunity to start writing publicly. Writing publicly—that might be the most insane idea of all—that anyone might actually want to read whatever it is that I am writing. There are many logical reasons why I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but here we are…I’m writing and you’re reading. I’m shelling out more money that I don’t have to earn more education that I might use. It just doesn’t make sense. But that’s it right there—places we do not expect and adventures we do not understand—things that don’t make sense.

God is calling me to be more than I am—whether that be a writer or not. He’s calling me to see through the plastic sham of living within a box I’ve created. Yes, it’s ‘protective,’ but a better word might be restrictive. I’ve put myself in a box based on what I think I should do (and be); what others think I should do (and be); what I think God thinks I should do (and be). But putting people in boxes does not enable them to give and receive love.

“Free” and Christian do not really go together for me. (An association I probably should grow out of, maybe right now.) I always thought being a Christian meant being “good.” Loving and kind. Quiet and controlled. Which comes from a place of calculation, not a place of freedom. It’s like putting on a show—the “good little Christian” for all the world to see. This is not being free. Being free would probably lead to some not-so-Christ-like behaviors. Being free would put our very humanity on display; the same humanity we are constantly trying to escape. L’Engle proposes the idea that Christians are not meant to be less human, but more. I’m not suggesting we go around blatantly sinning and hurting people, but I am suggesting that calculated Christianity is not working. I don’t think that putting on a face (for others, for God… for oneself) is what this is all about.

Freedom comes only from surrender. L’Engle writes: “It is not possible to be a Christian while refusing to be vulnerable.” By giving yourself permission to be vulnerable—to let go, to question and doubt, to see yourself and your shaky faith more clearly—you are also encouraging others to do so. It’s so much easier to buckle down and tell yourself you believe. No one has time or energy to wrestle with these things, but we all need to. I spent most of my life equating vulnerability with weakness, but I’m learning that strength does not have anything to do with not having feelings and doubts. The white-knuckled grip might appear stronger than the one who’s let go, but is it really? May we all be a little less calculated and a little more free. Free to question and doubt, and to pursue the faith that we need now.