Pass The Salt

Vulnerability lends itself to transparency, which creates a clear heart for open and honest communication. Years ago, a friend told me my voice was the strongest when writing from a place of vulnerability. Last week, I blogged for the first time in THREE years. There was some vulnerability in those words. Before last week, I had the desire to write, but my voice had been silent. Legitimately, not certain of what I should write. No purpose. There were times when I wanted to create an open dialogue for the reconciliation of differences but didn’t have the energy to deal with the repercussions of people. Today, I decided the repercussions, judgment, and opinions no longer mattered to me. 

I walked away from the church for a little while, not necessarily God or Jesus, the church. During Covid and the aftermath of the pandemic, I was tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Some days, I simply was too tired from the pandemic/virtual school week to physically go anywhere on the weekends. Some days, it was the divisiveness that was occurring over a vaccination. The division was UGLY. Some days, it was just me questioning theology. During that time, I was teaching World Literature and we were reading Elie Wiesel’s autobiography, Night. If you have really thought about the Holocaust, how can you not have questions? 

Questioning the church’s theology should not cost us our faith or our friends. However, early on we are trained to trust blindly and not question the Bible, the preacher, or the universal church. This doesn’t sit well with me because what if, our personal questioning is where the Truth is revealed for our lives? I don’t feel we are allowed to openly have questions nor is there a safe space to have hard conversations about religion. Our unbelief and uncertainty should be discussed openly with freedom, acceptance, and understanding. However, these conversations lead to being shunned and ostracized. We don’t feel there is a place for us at the table anymore. 

I think this is where I have been sitting for the last three years, alone and uncertain. I can remember teaching children to question everything and not blindly conform to things just because their parents or preachers told them. I quickly noticed these children and their parents stopped interacting with me as much. See how quick questions can cause you to be alone.  

This morning, the focus of the sermon was on salt and light. The preacher discussed how salt loses its flavor because of impurities or because it’s been diluted. My initial question was: What happens when the church becomes the impurity in your life? I’m betting that will be considered a very unpopular question, but my heart hurts when I watch the people of the church hurt others. When the people of the church have an opportunity to stand up for someone in their time of need, but those upstanding church folks stand by and watch as that person’s life implodes. 

I’ve felt my flavor fade over the last three years. When it was said this morning, “If salt loses its taste it has lost its purpose.” I haven’t felt anything so deeply in quite a long time because I have questioned my purpose on a continuous loop for the last few years. Once so determined that writing was a divine gift that God brought to me, I no longer have the words or the desire to find them. Once absolutely certain that teenagers were my reason, I now contemplate leaving education over and over. Once faithful in seeing past the unfortunate and trusting in the direction it would lead, I cry uncontrollably with complete rain clouds blocking the view of where to go next. 

The significance in all this is that I have been BEGGING God for months to help me feel something. ANYTHING. For someone who had an absolute certainty of the divine’s touch on her life, living in unbelief has been debilitating. Today with conviction and trust,  I sang the words, “I sing a hallelujah louder than the unbelief.” Tonight, I have words and the desire to type them out again. God is moving and just maybe isn’t done with me yet. Though my heart and soul still struggle with questions and my mind still carries some unbelief, I did feel the presence of God today. I do feel that spark and pray that it will fan into a flame. Even if I am not as salty as I once was, may my light have the ability to grow brighter and be a safe and encouraging space for all those who question yet seek. May my light mimic the love of God.

45 and counting...

Birthdays much like the new year offer a time to reflect on your personal life. Forty-five seems like a significant number to truly reflect. So, I've been spending some time doing that. I mean most likely, I've crossed the halfway point of my life. I feel like I need to make some priority changes and revive some lost ideas and beliefs.

At 40, I remember having so many plans and goals that I wanted to crush, particularly in that 40th year. Heck, I started writing a whole novel, and it was actually pretty good. However, I abandoned all my goals because somewhere along the way life became too hard for me. I doubted all my gifts and talents. The world became ugly and hateful. I found myself retreating from people and institutions that I once clung. The flame of my desires withdrew into darkness, and the darkness seemed to take up more and more space in my mind. 

The last few years I've struggled to maintain even a semblance of myself, but this past year life almost broke me and when I thought I was putting myself back together, I crashed. Life literally picked me overhead its head and slammed me onto the ground. I shattered into a million pieces. Pieces I don't think I can ever put back together the same way. I've changed too significantly. I haven't decided if it is for the better because I'm still attempting to form the shards back together. I'm hurt and bitter and confused.

At Forty-five, I thought life would be on cruise or at least on a downhill slope, but nope. NO. WHERE. CLOSE. When I'm not pedaling up the steepest hill, I feel like I'm rowing backward all alone in a raft in the middle of an endless sea. It's honestly been horrible. I'm a broken version of myself, and it is painful to live out because I'm unsure if I can return to the strong and faithful person I was for so long, and I desperately want to be her.

I envy people who say you can just choose happiness or joy. They intentionally choose that for their life. I promise you I want that. I want to make that choice. I want to make a proclamation over my life, but my brain makes that choice so much more difficult than just "choose joy." My brain is ruled by depression.

Depression grips the scale and tilts it in the direction of darkness and despair. Depression surrounds you with loneliness and uncertainty. Depression strips away motivation and confidence. Depression assures you joy isn't a feasible choice. So, as much as I want to choose joy, I have to wage a war against myself daily in order to make that choice. The battle is endless. 

Now, I'm not writing this as a woe to me plea for all of your pity. I. Do. Not. Want. Pity. I'm writing this as a declaration to myself. In order to seek out the goals I once made and in order to rebuild myself in a way that I'm recognizable, I must be transparent about my place in the world and the battles I face. One of my goals years ago was to blog frequently. What better way to be true to my 40 year old self than to blog to start off my 45th year? Here's to rebuilding myself and my faith while crushing my goals and finding a peace that dissolves my bitterness.