I Was Afraid to Tell You…Because You’re a Christian

“I was afraid to tell you…”

A few years back, a pretty close friend of mine used these words through tears when explaining why she hadn’t shared a personal, meaningful story with me from her early twenties. It was soon after Roe vs. Wade had been overturned.

Not understanding why she had been afraid to tell me after we had shared so many other deep conversations and stories together, I pressed her for a reason.

“Because you’re a Christian, and I assumed you would be upset with me…that you’d think of me differently.”

My eyes instantly welled up with tears. For her. For me. For the millions of others who have been hurt by Christians. I knew that place, having been part of churches, Christian circles and organizations, and just everyday conversations with other Christians that made me feel judged and like I didn’t belong.

What hurt the most personally, was that I had worked so hard to be a safe place for my family, friends, and my clients. A place free from judgment, where you don’t need to feel ashamed. Because that’s what I needed and continue to need in order to heal and move toward more wholeness and holiness…to be more like Jesus.

When we are in the depths of poor decisions and on the wrong path, we don’t need anyone to tell us that. We know it. Now we might not have the courage to admit it, and we might even vehemently and violently defend our actions…but deep down inside there is a wounded and scared human hiding. I know. I have been that person.

I loved the arguments, I even enjoyed the fights. That’s where I felt safe. Guard up, walls up, dukes up.

Then, when I was alone, came the questioning voices: Doubt. Shame. Regret. But never would I ever have let anyone know, let anyone see that. I would just allow those voices to form more bricks in my walls. Solidify the foundation. Push people away and out. Prove to myself that I was on my own anyway because people always leave.

I allowed my heart to become hard. I allowed my beliefs to change.

“No one can be trusted.” “No one will ever love me.”

And here I was, sitting in front of a friend who felt the same. She didn’t have a tough exterior, and neither did I. Our hardness was much more subtle. And isn’t that what we are seeing around us everyday? Cynicism. Judgment. Criticality. Sarcasm.

Even and especially among those of us who call ourselves Christian?

So for the past few years, I have continued to question that label: Is it something I want to wear? What is the world’s definition? What is mine? How do I reconcile the two? How do I live into what this label means, and can I wear it proudly despite being in disagreement with others who use the label in ways I just cannot agree with?

I have come up with a lot of answers, but none that satisfy the questions. And so I am choosing to live with the questions…probably until the end of my life…while I continue to wear the label. Struggle with it. Be in community with people I don’t agree with. Lean in to working on my own path to becoming more like Jesus.

Isn’t that what God intended? Jesus spoke in parables to keep us engaged in the seeking and the exploring. In the early church there was messiness, disagreement, dissent. All of what we experience today. That’s what has helped us continue to evolve. Although it’s uncomfortable, I don’t want that to change.

It’s the man-made version of the church and Christianity that wants to declare definitive answers and make everything black and white. We want to know that if we do this…then we get to Heaven. But the reality is that none of us knows. God is way too big for that. Far too complex to comprehend. So so so good, that I truly believe in the end we will all be saved. When you meet Him face to face, how could you not say yes to Him?

And I could be wrong, and I’m OK with that. I have my ideas and opinions, and I am open that I don’t know it all.

For now, the version of God that can hold duality, has love and respect for EVERYONE, and cares deeply about each human being (even and especially those, like me, who go astray), the One who gets jealous when we put anything before Him because He so desperately wants to gift us Heaven on earth…that’s the God I want to be more like.

Loving people well. Inviting them in to this good news. Allowing God to do the work of transforming hearts and minds, like He has continued to do with mine.

I wasn’t changed by church or a religion. I was transformed when I encountered Christ.

Less division and more unity. Less judgment and more love. Less power and more peace. The model of the Kingdom Jesus gave us in The Sermon on the Mount, represented in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12) and modeled in many of his parables and teachings. That’s the type of Christian I am trying to embody.

For those seeking Christian community or those exploring Christianity, I encourage you to follow the Center for Action and Contemplation. Consider reading Father Richard Rohr’s book The Universal Christ. Consider signing up for the CAC’s daily meditations. Here is an excerpt from one from CAC faculty member Brian McLaren:

For spiritually alive people, for people of deep and genuine faith, we don’t want to surrender to despair and cynicism, reactivity and fragmentation. We want to be healed and empowered, so we can participate in healing and empowering other people.

Across every traditional Christian denomination, there are widespread calls for change. Imaginative scholars, liturgists, organizers, networkers, and pastors are creating resources and spaces for beautiful new things to be born….

These redeemers of Christianity are out there, by the hundreds, thousands, and tens of thousands.

Most are quiet people, living ordinary lives of extraordinary love and grace. When they’re attacked, they keep moving forward with humble, gracious confidence. When they’re discouraged, they find new inner strength. When they think about leaving Christianity, which probably happens quite often, they say, “Not today. Not me.” You know this is true, because there’s a good chance that you’re one of them….

It will never be perfect. Of course. It’s a human enterprise, and we humans complicate everything. But at least this emerging Christianity could become humble and teachable, curious and self-critical, creative and humane, diverse and harmonious.