When the Truth Comes Out

 I've always been really great at word vomit. I don't like hiding my figurative dirty laundry (but you bet your boots when you come to my house I'm hiding ALLLLLL the literal stuff). I don't ever want anyone to be afraid to open up about their true feelings. I want to see who you really are. So...when I have something to say, I say it, and I hope that my candor allows other people to feel safe and not judged when they're with me (and I hope that it comes out the way it was intended, because sometimes I suck with words). 

At first, when I started opening up to people about the changes in my beliefs, it was easy to see the support from people around me. To my face, no one tried to convince me that I was wrong (though on social media I was definitely called "apostate" several times) and for the most part, everyone just treated me like I belonged anyway. I loved that. It meant that other people would feel safe showing their differences too. I felt wanted and loved at church and I never felt like a project for anyone...just accepted as I was. I respected the beliefs of others and hoped for the same courtesy. It was a pretty wonderful place to be.

But...

Over the past few short months, I've come to realize something really unsettling.

When you're part of an organization based on faith, and your faith starts changing, others around you start to fear that they'll catch what you've got, and eventually they'll stop talking to you.

I'm what they call an extroverted introvert. I know that sounds surprising because I'm not shy and I seek connection with people when I'm out and about. But I don't require a lot of friends or experiences outside my family. I'm happy spending most of my time with my husband and kids, or even hanging out my myself (I'm good company).

But I'll tell you...even someone as secure with themselves as I am starts to feel lonely after a while. Especially at church.

Believe it or not, I used to be someone who would get angry when others questioned the church. I defended that organization and the men who ran it as if my very soul depended on it. If a friend left the church, I would unfriend them on social media and pray that I never ran into them again. I didn't want to confront that elephant in any room.

Now that I'm on the other side of questioning, I realize how fragile my belief system truly was.

Why do we avoid people at church whose religious beliefs change? What are we so afraid of? 

If I was so convinced that I was right about everything I believed, why would I fear that something as simple as a difference in opinion would change my mind? I believed in being Christlike, but Christ wouldn't ghost a person just because they didn't believe everything he believed. 

No...the truth is, I didn't want to ask the questions. I didn't even want to KNOW the questions. I didn't want to do the work. I didn't want to trust myself. It was just easier to have a room of 12 men do all the thinking for me, and just scroll through a handbook for answers. 

But things are different now.

I've asked the questions. I've found the answers. And I've learned that those answers aren't always the same for everyone. And there's so much beauty in that. 

So...I go to church and I'm honest about where I'm at with my beliefs in it. And that isn't going to change.

I will allow myself to be a safe space for anyone who is afraid they won't belong if they believe differently. 

I'll do it because I'm strong enough to be lonely. And other people might not be strong enough for that yet.