I was struggling a lot last week with reconciling my beliefs and feelings about non-judgment with the churches beliefs (or more clearly, the word of the bible). I’ve been exposed to a lot of talk about sin lately, and what is and is not a judge-able offense; it’s left me raw. I’ve wondered where people get off passing judgment on others, and why it becomes OK to throw scripture around in an effort to endorse hate. I actually found myself praying a lot on this (yes, I am becoming a girl who prays when she has questions! Look at me go!), and trying to determine what my response should be when I hear these discussions, because I do have personal experience that makes me feel strongly that the world is not always black and white.
I was becoming discouraged, and I even found myself saying in conversation one day “If someone isn’t going to be allowed into heaven for seeking out love or becoming the person they were born to be, than I don’t want to be there either.” I realized that this was a blasphemous statement, even as I said it. I immediately bit my lip and inhaled deeply, but I wouldn’t take it back. I was frustrated with being told who was and was not “good enough” and I started to feel like I didn’t want to be a part of an institution that was so seemingly exclusive. I just had so much trouble believing that the God I pray to wouldn’t have a purpose behind every soul on this earth, and reasoning behind all of their struggles. It was such a hard concept for me to wrap my head around, and I found myself wanting to scream at all the people preaching to me their beliefs because it just felt so… hypocritical. I wanted to be able to call out all of their “sins” and ask them how theirs were any less reprehensable than anyone else’s. How they were any more justified? So, I prayed, and two incredible things happened.
The first was that I received some beautiful words from a new friend that I desperately needed to hear, and with that, she helped me put faith and compassion into perspective when I needed it most. The second was that in the midst of all this confusion (and in the questioning of whether or not any church would ever be the right place for me) I opened my bible study to lesson 5 of last week, and literally felt as though it had been written for me in that moment. No other section had spoken so loudly, or been so desperately needed right when it appeared.
The section was on “Legalism”. I’ll be honest when I say that I had no idea what the term meant when I started to read (I am more and more astounded every day at all the things I didn’t know… I really always thought I was a religion expert. I thought I had no need for church because I knew my God. I was wrong). I was confused the entire first half of the section, trying desperately to figure out what the heck Beth Moore was talking about. But then suddenly, the light bulb flashed on in my head and I thought “Wow. There’s your answer.”
So for those of you as novice as I am, here’s my best explanation of my new favorite concept (and for those of you more firmly engrained in church and religion; be kind! I may be way off right now, but I really like my interpretation!) Basically, what I got out of the lesson is that legalism refers to what is lost when someone tries to live 100% by the rules of the bible, and in turn expects the same of others. The heart is lost; the soul. The message becomes unclear, and you lose track of the relationship because you are so focused on the rules. God never intended for us to all fit into one tiny box; he never anticipated that we would all be able to adhere to his word without ever faltering. Even more so, there needs to be a recognition that sometimes you may need to stray for a greater purpose; sometimes there is something more to be learned. This isn’t to excuse sin, or to say that it’s OK because everyone does it; it’s simply to say he understands that we are only human. The people who follow the word of the bible in the strictest sense possible will never be happy or have that fulfillment in God, because they will forever be attempting to attain an image of themselves that is impossible to produce. They will never be satisfied. No one is perfect, and we all have our struggles (and trust me, I work on mine every day), so sitting around trying to point fingers at who is and is not a sinner is simply a ridiculous waste of time. I don’t know about you, but I have enough to worry about when it comes to guiding my own life; I don’t have time to be worrying about making sure I enforce my version of “right” upon everyone else as well.
So, here’s my new plan: I am accepting the bible as the word of God, but I am also recognizing that he has a purpose for everything and that very little is ever as set in stone as humans try to make it. I will continue to believe that sexuality is not a black and white concept, and that it is not the place or job of anyone on this earth to determine it as a sin or not. I don’t need to have the answers to this, I just have to know how I feel about the subject (and so many other issues where it starts to feel almost as though certain “Christians” have picked a hot topic to point at and say: “that’s wrong, and I’m better than that” in order to justify their own sins). All I have to do is be at peace with my feelings and interpretations; the only person I need to be accountable for is myself. I am choosing to look at the bible more for the heart, and to leave the head out of it. So many things can be interpreted so many ways, and a “legalist” could make themselves mad trying to differentiate between “sin” and “not sin” in 1000 different contexts. I will not do that to myself. I will not question God (or his words), but I will continue to shy away from people who want to throw the “rules” around in order to lift themselves up. I am choosing to read it (and hear it) with my heart.
This entire lesson and realization brought me peace. I stopped worrying; stopped wondering. He has a plan, and it is not my place to say “but why?” I will get the answers when I need them, and for now, that is all I need to know.
I would have thought that the relief that came from this section was the most I could have hoped for from the week, but then... there was more. I looked back on a section about pride, and realized I had inadvertently underlined 3 items in a list of the things God wants to do for us, and the ways in which pride hinders that. They were:
God wants to…
• Bring us out of dark closets. Pride says secrets are nobody’s business.
• Help us with constraining problems. Pride denies there is a problem.
• Make us strong in Him. Pride won’t admit weakness.
Those 3 stood out to me in a way I hadn’t even realized initially, and I had needed to go back to them to fully comprehend their meaning to me. I have never thought of myself as prideful; I’ve never equated my need for strength as a hindrance to God. But reading those three items again, I thought “Wow. I do all of that”. I hardly ever reach out for help, and it is rare that I will admit when I am truly struggling. I like to pretend I can handle everything on my own; heck, I even like to believe it. And, in truth, more often than not I can come out on top when I set my mind to something (with little or no help from others), but did I really just do something so great, or did I choose the most difficult path possible? When did I become so afraid of asking for help; of exposing my weakness?
I was thinking about this a lot before the bible study started last night, and wondering when I would begin to shed this pride I hadn’t even realize I had. I got my answer sooner than I expected.
One of the first questions we opened with was “Has dissatisfaction ever led you to discover Christ in a new and satisfying way?” and I thought “Crap. You can’t ignore this. It’s time to come clean. You have to tell these women your story and hope that they are understanding.” So, I did. I plunged into all the sordid details of my medical history, and told them about the lowest point I’ve had in years and how it led me through the church doors. I explained (as I fought back tears... shaking and feeling so weak in front of these women) how I didn’t think I would be where I am now in my quest for God, if it hadn’t been for hitting rock bottom then. I described the peace that I have felt in God in the last few months, and the way I have transformed my fear and anger into hope and optimism (most day’s anyway!)
I did not tell them of my plan for IVF (I wasn’t ready), but then that too got forced upon me (boy, when God has a plan, he sure makes it known!) The leader was explaining that I shouldn’t take anything as an absolute negative that I wouldn’t be able to have kids, because she had endometriosis and now has two children. I knew she was just trying to be positive, but I felt like she wasn't "getting" the severity of my situation; like she was simplifying it. I felt the need to explain the extent of my damage and the fact that I will never get pregnant naturally and have been advised strongly to do something now. I told her (them) about the e-mail I just received from my RE calling my case “remarkable” and stating that no one had any idea why my endo had been so aggressive, therefore making it even more frightening because there is no real clue on how to stop it (that e-mail broke my soul. I found myself thinking “I don’t want to be ‘remarkable’. This is the one time in my life where I want to be ‘ordinary’ and ‘unmemorable’. I don’t want to be the extreme case of endo that stands out and makes even the specialists question what to do next.) I then dropped the IVF bomb, and explained that I will be doing this on my own in November. As soon as I finished speaking, I bit my lip; waiting for the backlash.
The group leader (who I still can’t decide whether or not I like… she seems very sweet, but she also reminds me of the girls I never would have fit in with in high school because I was always [and likely will always be] too brash and unpolished… I make girls like that uncomfortable.), then said “Well, I think that’s something we should pray for then. I think we should pray for you to find a mate, because God would never have intended for you to have to go through this alone.”
My anger immediately flared. This was just what I had expected, wasn’t it? This judgment. This belief that they knew what was best for me. I almost shot back. I almost walked out. I felt my body temperature boiling and the angry words making their way to my tongue when my brain suddenly shouted out “STOP!”
I knew this girl meant no offense (she even said so, as in “please don’t take that wrong, I just think this would be so much easier for you if you had a partner.”), so why did I take it so? I think part of it is because if I was told I could choose between having a baby, having healing, or having a husband, I would choose baby, healing, and then husband; in that order. The husband is the lowest priority in my mind, so why did she automatically jump to praying for that? I felt myself bristle up, and I felt this urge to make sure this girl knew who I was, and what I was capable of. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. I wanted to makes sure that she knew (that they all knew) that I could do this just fine on my own.
Pride.
STOP!
In a matter of seconds my brain was throwing so much at me, and I immediately thought “Seriously right now? Would it really be so bad to have a partner in this? Are you really going to get angry that that’s what she wants for you?” Sure, it’s not what I would have chosen to pray for, but I don’t even like asking for prayers for myself, so who am I to correct her on what she wants to pray for, for me? And really, what is so wrong with the idea of having a partner in this? Yes, I am cantankerous, and I wear my independence around me like an armor of barbed wire. I often wonder if there is any man who will ever be able to get close enough to break through, and in that wondering I think I convince myself that I am (and always will be) happier alone, because it’s easier than saying I want more and facing disappointment if it doesn’t appear… But, wouldn’t it be OK if he did appear? Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone hold my hand through this; to have someone sit behind me as I scream my way through labor? Would it really be so bad to have a daddy for my child?
So, even though it isn’t what I would have chosen to pray for, and even though there was a stubborn side of me that took it as her questioning my abilities (and that pride that I didn’t even realize I had recoiled at the mere implication that I may not be able to do this on my own) I stopped my mouth from spewing venom, and I forced my heart to recognize that what she was wishing for me wasn't so bad. I sat silent (and awkward) as the entire group focused all their prayers on me (such a weird feeling for me; how had this night turned into “all about me” night?) The whole prayer was about me finding my “mate” (yes, that word was used… over and over again. It made me think of the monkeys at the zoo who hump each other with no regard for who may be watching. Wait… that doesn’t sound so bad!), and I tried to make myself feel those words. I realized though, that the problem with praying for me to find a mate, is that I may not exactly be all that open to it. The idea scares me, and the process doesn’t sound fun. I like my life. I like my quiet and my independence. If my “mate” came along, would I even give him the time of day?
So before I went to bed last night, I found myself saying a complimentary prayer. I asked God to open up my heart, and to tear down my walls. I begged that if he was going to put my “mate” in front of me, that he would force me to see him. I pleaded for the ability to welcome love into my life. I’m not saying that I can’t do this on my own, because I am here to tell you that if it comes to that; I will be just fine. Maybe I just realized that knowing I will be OK, and recognizing that it would still be “better” to not do this on my own, are two concepts that can coexist. I can still know I will be just fine on my own, but all the while be praying that I won’t have to prove that. So, I prayed for my “mate”.
Crap. Does this mean I’m dating again?
ADSPACE
