Redefining Christianity

"...I left my evangelical roots behind at 19 years old. It wasn't intentional. It just sort of happened. I didn't fight it. And I haven't regretted it.

What once felt like disobedience, now feels like true freedom. Freedom to experience Holy Spirit in ways I was never able to before. Truth is, I'm a free thinker. I dig below the surface. I challenge, question, and never take anything at face value. I don't believe we should stifle our God-given brains and critical thinking skills. 

If your church tradition takes the approach of "move along, nothing to see here..." I have one word for you: RUN. Your questions aren't because you lack faith rather your questions are an invitation from God to dig deeper.

Jesus met me at the crossroads of my faith identity crisis. A time where I asked "should I pack it in?" or "should I dig in?" I had SO many questions. I had so many doubts. My kids had questions I wasn't sure how to answer about God and his character. How do I answer them? Where do I start?

Truth is, I've read my Bible more in times of complete doubt than Ive read it in times of absolute faith. Jesus is there in both.

And let me be clear, and here's where it gets super scary. My doubts aren't about what's right and wrong, or my future, or if I'm screwing up my kids (I probably am)...

I'm talking, I don't know if I believe some of this stuff. 

(If you haven't 'x-ed' out of this blog yet, thank you!)

Does that mean I can't believe any of it? Holy Spirit shows up every time..."

I posted that on my Instagram a few days ago. I tend to write when I feel divinely inspired to do so. That social media post and this post today are no exception. Maybe it's a gift, but I tend to be bombarded with revelations and thoughts all at once. It's such a moving experience, that I have to stop what I'm doing and just sit down and write (or type, or both). 

I can get lost in my own head during this process. Nothing else becomes as important as sharing what's been laid on my heart. 

When I say I left my evangelical roots, you can just assume I'm talking about the Southern Baptist tradition that I grew up immersed in. I'm from Northeast Tennessee, ya'll. A church on every street corner, the bonafide Bible belt. Republican. White. Evangelical. 

I didn't meet an atheist until I moved away at 19. She loved me so fiercely and I loved her. We became family because we were all each other had. She was also a liberal. Double whammy. But I soon came to realize, those were just titles that we give to someone that we don't understand, or worse yet, fear. Someone who threatens our existence or way of life.

I didn't meet my first gay couple until I was 25. They were my literal neighbors, two incredible women who showed me immense hospitality when I knew exactly 0 people (a common military life theme). Their daughter loved my daughter, babysat her, and they all spoiled Sophie from the start. To this day, I still have Sophie's handprint on a stone that they surprised me with before we moved.

I didn't meet my first immigrant until I was 26. After I moved to San Diego, California and needed someone to help me with watching Sophie. I remember being slightly terrified during our first visit, mostly because of the language barrier. I don't know this woman's entire life story, but I do know how she interacted with Sophie. I do know she worked extremely hard caring for military families kids. She brought children into her own home, loved them, taught them, and kept them safe. Everything a parent wants. She filled a void in our life and I'll never forget her. 

I didn't meet my first Muslim until I was in my 30's. A mom, just like me. A wife, just like me. A daughter, sister, granddaughter. Someone who is loved. Someone my age, born in an entirely different world from me. 

And then I met myself. I've been a divorced, single mom (living with her parents), trying to make ends meet. I have anxiety & depression. I've wrestled with my faith, the Bible, and God. I've been in therapy. I have anger and control issues. 

I could keep going but I feel like you probably get the picture. 

God used people outside of my evangelical upbringing to show me who He is. People who could have (and probably should have) judged me, loved me. 

Sometimes, when I'm tempted to feel regret or guilt over leaving a faith tradition that once was my entire world - I'm reminded that God continued to show up. Even when I didn't have a church home. Even when I felt (and still sometimes feel) disgusted with Christianity. Even through my doubts.

I sit here, staring at my screen because what I want to say next will undoubtedly piss people off. But I have to go here...easily offended read no more.

Evangelical Christians can no longer hide behind the belief that their salvation is enough. This is what ultimately kept me from coming back to a faith tradition that I once believed so deeply in. This is what put me on a crash course of confronting what I really believe.

I could no longer ignore the hurt, pain, separation, and shame Christians were spreading. That I've been complicit in. When Jesus explicitly commands that we love. We love. Our fruit will show it.

When Jesus commands that we feed the hungry, visit the prisoner, care for the orphan, welcome the immigrant, those aren't just nice thoughts. It's a requirement to follow Him. Our fruit will show it. 

Redefining Christianity in my own life meant asking "Am I a Christian because I want to be right, and be saved from eternal damnation?" or "Am I a Christian because I actually believe what Jesus said?". 

And by believe, do my actions show it?

One of the most powerful Bible verses for me that changed my entire faith is such a well known prayer...

"Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." 

What would it look like if I didn't just merely recite this prayer but actually believed it?

So many Christians are waiting around for Heaven, that we are missing the opportunities we have TODAY to bring Heaven to earth. 

What does loving your neighbor, truly loving them mean? Showing them a little piece of Heaven on earth. Removing barriers, titles, oppression, and fear. What does THAT world look like? I think it looks like Heaven. I think it looks like being a friend. We don't have to wait for that elusive some day. That's the exciting part. Seeing every person as a child of God. Created in His perfect image. 

Atheist. LGBTQ. Muslim. Immigrant. Refugee. Democrat. Republican. Orphan. Stranger. You. Me.

Paul says if we've loved, then we've fulfilled the law. That'll preach.