How did I get here?

These days I feel a bit like a teenager. The angst. Oh, the angst! I am easily angered, sometimes filled with inexplicable anxiety, and more rebellious than is characteristic of me. No, no, I'm not being self-destructive, don't worry. But I am less inclined to simply do what is expected of me. And why? For what?

I ask myself those questions every day.

Let me be perfectly clear. This process is not easy on me. I am not taking this lightly. But I maintain that all of it is okay. All of this is normal. I am not the first do undergo this process, I won't be the last, and I will be better for it in the end.

The emotional journey is telling, though. I can't even describe how much guilt I have these days. I feel guilty that I'm not going to church (and I get asked ALL THE TIME "where are you going to church these days?" And how do I answer? "I haven't settled anywhere just yet." Because it's easier than getting into everything.) I feel guilty for avoiding places where I might be put on the spot to pray or have overly spiritualized discussions, because I just can't handle it right now. And the guilt makes me angry. Why do I feel guilty? Why do I have to feel guilty? Why is my faith a list of rules that I have to follow?

See? Teenager.

This is a vulnerable place. There is great risk that I can easily take on views and beliefs of other people, simply because I'm in a state of confusion and I'm thirsty for answers. Thankfully, I'm quite well aware of this danger and therefore can take measures to protect myself. I'm doing a lot of reading these days, but I'm trying to make sure it's balanced. Both sides of the issue are being represented. I'm also limiting exposure to people who are entrenched on one side or the other, who may have too much influence on me as I try to figure out where I stand. The last thing I want to do is simply take on another dogma. I want to re-build my faith and have it be something that I own. Will it be influenced by others? Of course. I'm not so arrogant to think that I can answer all the questions that people have been asking for centuries. But I am determined to think for myself.

More of us should probably do this.

Living in the Tension

So, two weeks into Living all by my Lonesome. Verdict? What the hell was I worried about. This. Is. Awesome. For real, I should have done this long ago. My house rocks (yes, even the purpley-grey on the walls).

In my Embrace It post, I alluded to the fact that I have been questioning aspects of my faith - a statement which has garnered some questions from family and friends. Fair enough. This is a public blog, so the purpose is for it to be read, and that is bound to include (possibly exclusively) my family and friends. Therefore, if I'm going to reveal some of what I'm working through, I should be ready to talk about it, in theory. Problem is, I have very few answers at this point and struggle to not just get defensive right away or else just downplay the situation to avoid having to provide answers I don't have. But the truth is, I'm living in the tension of being immersed in an extremely Christian context and questioning whether that Christianity is really something that I want to be associated with.

I think I've come to the conclusion that it's not actually my faith that I am questioning - that being my belief in Jesus and my security in His love. Rather, it's my theology that I'm essentially deconstructing, because over the past few years I've become increasingly uncomfortable with the dissonance between the intolerance shown by Christianity and the love that Jesus lived.

Simply put, it's not Jesus I have a problem with, it's the religion of Christianity.

And the church.

Did I just say that? That's a risky admission, given the context of my profession and the family I belong to, but I'm determined to embrace this time in my life, this deconstructing of my theology, and that includes being honest about the fact that I'm a little bit angry at the church. I'm angry at its narrow-mindedness, at its habit of showing non-love to people who believe differently, at its destructive ability to profoundly hurt people who desperately need to know that they are loved and valued just as they are. On the grand scale of things, I have not been hurt by the church nearly as deeply as others; but that's not to say that I haven't been hurt. I'm a woman and churches tell me that it means I can't be a leader. And that hurts me. Which manifests itself by me being pissed off, quite frankly.

It's difficult for me right now to separate "Christianity" and "the church." "The church" is the living extension of "Christianity," and I see both doing a lot of harm in our world, all in the name of Jesus.

Does this mean I will never return to church? I don't think so. In fact, I think I'll probably return to it quite soon enough, but at the moment I'm taking a little breather (but, hey, at least I'm using my Sunday mornings to think about what my faith means to me, right?) I'm using this time to do some reading about theology and Jesus' ministry and progressive Christianity (which is sometimes really overwhelming for the conservative Christian girl that I was raised as). And when the tension gets too thick, I walk away for a little bit, just to give it a chance to ease off to a bearable level, and then I return. Because I'm embracing it, this tension. I don't think it's a bad thing to deconstruct what we believe every once in awhile. And that's what really tells me that I'm no longer that conservative Christian girl I once was -in my experience, conservative Christians are typically quite threatened by questions to the fundamentals of their theology (I certainly was).

I'm embracing it, people. Join me.

A house, a home

Embracing It wasn't easy this week. I melted down on Tuesday and was convinced I couldn't live with the purple on the walls...and there may have been a moment where I desperately wished that I could call this whole thing off. But an hour and a half chat/cry with my sister on the phone, a little bit of sleep and the support of my friends diverted the crisis and here I am. In my new house. In my home.

I'm on my couch, in my new living room, drinking a beer and eating celebratory chips, listening to the sounds of a new building, and relishing the fact that this place is all mine.

I can't wait to go to bed.

Embrace It: 2012

My friend was telling me about his buddy who declares a motto each year. Last year was "Why Not?"; this year's is "Don't Die" (you know, the whole Mayan calendar/end of the world thing). I don't make New Year's Resolutions, because they are just one more thing to fail at, but the idea of a Motto for the Year intrigued me and I decided I could get on board with that.

While "Don't Die" is a good motto for everyone, mine sprang out of the flurry of change happening in my life at the moment. Change can be very hard for most people, especially me, so my anxiety level has been somewhere between "high" and "overdrive" for going on a month now. I'm moving into an apartment on my own next weekend and we've spent the last couple weeks getting the new place ready. This weekend was painting weekend and we were going for a really awesome shade of grey on the walls, which turns out is pretty purple in some (most?) lighting. The friend that was painting with me was just like "you know what? embrace the purple" (really, we were pretty committed at this point). So that's when my Motto for the Year struck me:

Embrace It.

My walls are kinda purple (when that's the very color I said I didn't want)? Embrace it.

I'm a little terrified to live on my own? Embrace it.

My new fridge makes gurgling noises that sound a little bit like an alien talking? Embrace it. (And name him "Alex")

I'm questioning many aspects of my faith, theology, ideology and practice? Embrace it.

You don't want to date me? Embrace it.

Pinterest has captured me in its obsessive grip? Embrace it. (AND PIN ALL THE THINGS!!)

So, no resolution for me. But I am going to Embrace It this year, as best I can. Which sometimes might not be very well at all. But...failing at Embrace It? Well, I'll probably embrace that too.

On connection, belonging and friendship

Lately I have realized (or perhaps re-realized) how lonely I am for significant relationships in my life. My decision to leave Winnipeg for Abbotsford has been overwhelmingly positive. And yet. And yet, I cannot deny the sacrifice I made in leaving my community there. I use the word community intentionally; I'm not speaking of the city or neighborhood I lived in, rather the community of people I belonged to. And belong is the key word.

I miss belonging to a group of people.

I miss the peace that comes with spending time with people you know want to spend time with you.

I miss knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am accepted, flaws and all.

I miss never having to wonder if I will sit home alone on Friday night (unless I've chosen to do so).

I miss community.

My job came with an instant community, but I have an urge to call it "faux community." There are definite instances of true connections, true communities being formed, but in reality, work community is different from life community. I miss life community - literally, those people you just do life with.

A good friend of mine has this type of community and this has become his "church." It's not church in the same way we normally think of, but I cannot deny that this group of people is truly a church community. And I desperately want to be a part of it. My eyes fill with tears and my heart fills with longing when I observe the community shared between these people.

It's shocking how the lack of belonging, and the subsequent longing that comes from observing others who have what you want, quickly throws you into a strange, scary and sad state of discomfort. Insecurities I thought I had long since dealt with have resurfaced with surprising force.

Am I cool enough to be friends with these people?

Do they really want to spend time with me or are they simply taking pity on me?

Am I pretty enough?

Am I skinny enough?

Am I smart enough?

Am I enough?

I'm not used to being on the outside. I'm not used to worrying about finding acceptance from people anymore. I'm thrown back to early college days when I was so eager to find the "lifelong friends" that we are promised as a result of Bible School that I alienated people with my neediness. Am I still that needy? Have I really not changed in the past 10 years?

I have, of course. I now understand that deep friendships take time. I understand that deep friendships have ups and downs, but the downs aren't usually the end of the road. I understand that deep friendships create, and perhaps need, space for silence.I understand that deep friendship does not mean you have to agree on everything, rather that you are able to have honest, open conversations about life, love, faith, and everything in between. Deep friendship is about walking through life together.

Life without deep, significant friendships is hard. And lonely. It's where I am right now (although perhaps it's changing?). And while it's uncomfortable and painful at times, I'm ok with it (for a short period of time), because it reminds me that I am real, that I am human, that there is meaning to the life I am living, that I have worth, that I have needs and that those needs are ok, and that there are probably others who are in this place too.

Reflections on another year gone

It is way past my bedtime. Seriously, I should be in bed and I will regret this tomorrow morning at 5 am when my alarm goes off and the gym makes me its slave for an hour. But it's my birthday and I'm 27 now which means I can do whatever I want.

Birthdays lose their excitement as the years pass. I'm not yet at the age of dreading birthdays (although that age is coming in t-minus 3 years...), but gone are the days of excited butterflies in anticipation also. I actually forgot a number of times this week that the big day was approaching. And the day itself was so insanely busy that I probably would have forgotten there was anything special about it if Facebook hadn't let me know every 30 seconds that someone else had wished me a Happy Birthday (seriously, there's nothing like a birthday to make a girl feel loved).

Overall, 26 was a good year. Adjusted to some major change in my life, and while it was a bit a of a battle at some points, I think I've done it fairly gracefully. I think I've mellowed even more over the past year, and grown remarkably in my ability to love and understand myself. I'm more willing to own my mistakes and my successes, more ready to admit my weaknesses and take credit for my strengths. I hope God has shaped me to be more compassionate, giving and graceful. Even more so, I hope to be able to repeat that last sentence in 365 days.

I have a feeling that 27 is going to be a good year. There is hope and there is peace.

Have a Laugh or Three

He he he...these are funny.