Living in the Tension - Part 1?

Sitting in tension is difficult for most of us. We want definitive answers. We feel much more comfortable with black and white. Good and evil. Wrong and right. Do this, don't do that. We sometimes strain at the confines of clearly defined answers, but overall, for most of us it feels better than not knowing. It is better than the constant pull to think about all. the. things. This manifests in every single area of life right now.

Should I watch this show?

Can I shop at this business?

Is it okay to eat food here?

Can I listen to this teacher?

Can I "like" what this person says?

What about this church/denomination?

Who are we mad at this week?

Who/what are we boycotting this week?

In my experience, most of these questions were easily answered by the higher ups in my churches or denominations. If we're being completely honest, this is true for most of us - religious or not, there have always been "higher ups" willing to tell us what to think. The common man didn't need to give it much thought - someone else was always happy to tell us what we should think or do about a myriad of different situations. No matter where you fall on the spiritual, political continuums, there is no lack of people and institutions willing to tell us how we should think about almost every single decision that could come up in a person's daily life. And just to keep things spicy, it feels like it changes on the daily. Who could keep up?

Just a few of the things I've been told were true and at one time have been absolutely certain about:

I had a very clear picture of what to do with any and all law breakers: throw the book at 'em -- until I knew and loved some people that broke the law. While their choices were still super bad, I now know the horrific life circumstances that made choosing better options difficult (and perhaps in their mind, even impossible). I've watched them receive unreasonable sentences, watched how they are treated in prison, watched ridiculous requirements, fines and restrictions placed on them once they are released. Learning that in truth "paying your debt to society" means nothing - it is a myth. That debt is never truly paid within our current system. So now I hold this in tension. The law was broken - the law often is in place for a reason, yet there are deep flaws in our judicial and prison systems - flaws that make society worse rather than better, that harm rather than heal, that punish rather than rehabilitate, that punish the innocent and free the guilty, that punish some while looking the other way for others.

I knew all the answers on immigration: We have immigration laws here. They are here to protect us. Break those laws, go to jail or go back - that's the end of that. Then I met people. I read stories. There are people that come into our country illegally, to do harmful, illegal things. They should be stopped. There are also people that try for decades, spending thousands of dollars, to be here legally, in near constant fear of being sent back to a country they barely know or do not know at all. There are people fleeing incomprehensible pain and suffering, desperate to save themselves and their children. There are people coming, just as many of our ancestors did, simply for a better life, to pursue dreams that will never be attainable in their countries of origin. But because of fear and hatred and prejudice, they will not have the opportunities many our ancestors did. All of these things are true - at the same time. There must be compassion. We must not allow the few that do reprehensible things to destroy our love and compassion for the majority that fall into the other categories. So now, I have to hold a tension between the rule of law, the sometimes good reasons for those laws yet also knowing there must be grace in the fact that our system is desperately broken and compassion has been forgotten.

I used to have firm, unwavering answers about drinking, divorce,  the LGBTQ community, public schooling, women working, women pastoring, scripture, politics, the death penalty. The list is longer, but I'll stop here. I could talk you under the table as to why my opinion was the right opinion. Not so much anymore. Some of these I no longer hold much tension about, finding a space of peace in where I've settled. Some I still hold a bit loosely. I'll gradually speak to some of these at more length. As I said, it's been a process, is still a process - but I'm ready to find my voice in the midst of the process. I'm ready to not be afraid to be a work in progress, to be okay with not being utterly certain about everything.

A while back, I heard a teacher I listen to regularly, via a podcast, talking about this topic. He talked about how most of us have been raised with answers. There are hundreds of things every single day that we don't have to think about - we just do them, hundreds of decisions we don't really have to give much thought to, we just do what we have always done, think what we have always thought. This current culture's shake up, the advances in communication and science that can turn what we knew completely upside down, the easy access to knowledge we would never have had even a generation ago, has us second guessing and rethinking so. many. things. To some degree every generation does this, as we learn and grow, as the next generation begins the natural process of questioning and making things their own, rather than their parents, but it feels harder, somehow more, now. Sometimes it can feel like what it might be like to have to think about every breath we take or every beat of our heart. Exhausting, right? Because of that exhaustion of having to rethink and reevaluate so many things that we used to do, say, think or perform thoughtlessly, we tend to either close our eyes, cover our ears and stay put right where we are or we are easily led into new but still very firm, settled answers. Most of us gravitate toward people that tell us how to think because it's easier than thinking for ourselves, it's easier than searching and studying and listening and investing. In the midst of this shake up, what we're finding is fundamentalists to the right of us, yes - I'm familiar with them. But also, fundamentalists to the left of us. There are an abundance of people making the rules, casting out the dissenters, judging those who don't fall in line quickly enough - everywhere we turn. 

Refusing to be forced into these thought camps requires us to hold a lot of tension and holding tension is hard. We've arrived at a place in our culture where holding tension is not allowed. There is little to no space for questioning or transition or change. There is no space for questioning and then even perhaps determining your original beliefs are still your beliefs. You are all in or all out - no matter which place you land. If you stand in a place of tension, asking questions, you are often judged from both sides of the issue. Those that have asked the questions and landed in new places have often forgotten what that in-between space is like. People walk away from church simply because they're not allowed to think or ask questions - and I see this everywhere. The far right does not hold the award here. This fundamentalist mentality is in most every camp. We allow fear to force each other either into the "right" camp or out into the wilderness to fend for themselves.

I have spent years being afraid to even say some of these things out loud. And I do mean years - some of these things I remember questioning in my heart as young as junior high, but I never, ever voiced the questions. Our culture, and especially church culture, worships certitude.  Because I didn't have firm answers, because I was not certain and because simply not being sure of the final answer was seen to be hostile - as bad as actually changing your convictions, I allowed myself to retreat into silence on so many issues. I believed that I should not speak until I KNEW the answer one way or the other. Four and half decades into my life, I was finally allowing myself to ask questions, but I still expected certainty at the end of my journey. 

We all ache to belong. Being in the wilderness of both wandering and wondering can be lonely. We are often willing to abandon any questions, any independent thought, squelch any doubt, in order to continue to feel like we belong somewhere. But here I am, a wonderer and a wanderer. None of this has moved me away from Jesus. If anything, it has drawn me closer to Him. I realize some, in this process, have left faith altogether, but that is not where I am. I am firmly committed to Jesus and His ways.

I've found a few others that feel lost in the in-between as well and it's not quite as lonely now. My prayer is that the church, as well as the larger culture, will learn to hold space for differences. (And let me be perfectly clear - I am not talking about differences that involve any form of abuse, oppression, deceit - let's leave no space whatsoever for that.) I pray we would learn to walk in unity without necessarily uniformity. I pray we would allow safety and acceptance for those in process. But lonely or no, I'm moving forward. Like me or don't. Judge me or don't. Label me conservative or liberal, Christian or not. I'm okay. I'll continue to ask my questions, I'll hold the tension. I'll follow Jesus.