He stood at the front of the church and offered condolences and hope and prayers and all the right words. I sat there and thought about how I was supposed to be him. Well, not technically him—he’s a man, and not in that specific situation, but “him” as in that role.
It wasn’t always that way. As a kid, I had dreams of being a powerful lawyer. I wanted to be the female version of Perry Mason or Matlock. However, I didn’t have the grades nor the endurance for school. That was a dream I easily abandoned without regret.
In the process of becoming an adult, albeit a young one, I had new dreams. I married at 21, and started having children at 24. With a new family came heavy church involvement. It seemed like all the church-going twenty-somethings were in a race to see who could have the most babies the fastest. My husband and I had three in four years. In addition, there was (at least in my mind) pressure to be the godliest woman/mother.
Those were the years when I dreamed a new and improved dream: women’s Bible teacher and worship leader. Think Beth Moore and a female Travis Cottrell. (It’s quite laughable now.) But that went to hell in a handbag along with my good behavior.
I spent a few years recovering from the massive mess I’d made of my life, and finally, dreamed again. A smaller, more realistic dream. A Christian writer, thus this blog. A semi-Christian singer-songwriter, thus Captured. I built my community. I studied and wrote and connected with people throughout the world via social media. I learned and sang.
But that dream, along with my faith, eventually fell apart, too.
I left church. I quit singing. The community dwindled. My heart broke. The writing became more difficult. The tension built. My anxiety went through the roof. My belief system eroded.
Still, I sat on that pew recently and thought, I was supposed to be you. My faith is supposed to be intact. I’m supposed to know the answers. I’m supposed to offer hope and comfort. I’m supposed to be the one writing devotionals. I’m supposed to be the one singing a song of faith. I’m supposed to know and believe a little something about grace. I’m supposed to be a good Christian.
Instead, I’ve started taking anti-depressants. I spend my days trying to find a way and reasons to believe in God (seriously). I push my body to run and exercise because it’s the only way I can get a bit of relief. I search job sites looking for something to fill my time. I watch Netflix to fill the void. I try to avoid casual conversations about faith and church. I unfollow contemptuous, boundary-crossing, Christian folks on Facebook instead of exposing myself to them. I go to therapy in an attempt to clear my muddy brain and learn new (healthier) ways of functioning.
This is not who I was supposed to be.
The death of supposed-to and should have is hard.
yep supposed to and should have are in the past. Now it is ‘a new day, a new song, a new step, a new direction.’
How I wish I knew what the new direction is. It might make letting go of the past a little easier. (Sheesh…there’s some blog material in those two sentences.)
Love you Rebekah and I love your honesty. Praying for you sweet friend…
Thank you, Heather. Love you too!
Rebekah, I think it is a illusion for people to think that our faith is always going to be strong. I believe you have alot more courage than you realize. It takes courage to ask questions of faith that you were never permitted to ask before. I don’t believe there is ever a bad question. Too many people stay in denial because they are afraid of having to re-think their faith. I think that many of the problems we have in religion today is because people are unwilling to go beyond their own limited understanding of the Holy and Sacred. I hope you are gentle with your self because your past understanding of your faith was broken open. I can only imagine how painful this was. But I believe you will find a new way of being faithful that will allow for continued growth and questions. I sense you are experiencing the dark nights of the soul. I am glad you have people in your life that are journeying with you. I hope you know that many of us who are reading your blog can relate to much of what you say. Your sharing of your struggles gives me hope to risk new beginning as I take my ministry in new directions. I think Jesus would think you are an amazing women. I too think you are a gutsy, strong and a beautiful person.
My husband and I just had a conversation this evening with our girls, encouraging them to ask questions and to trust their instincts when it comes to faith issues. It’s strange how I want that for them, yet I feel so uncomfortable doing those things for myself. Indeed, it seems like these are the dark nights of the soul for me. I’m grateful that others can find some kind of redemption in my struggles.
Your blog resonated with me on several levels. I was married at 21 (my bride was 20) and by the age of 24, we had two kids–we added 2 more over the next 5 years. We entered into life with many expectations–often self-imposed–of what it meant to be “good parents,” “good Christians,” “good ministers.” I’ve lost count of how many “supposed to,” and “should haves” drowned in the wake of our lives. We’ve experience many unexpected twists, turns, upheavals, losses, frustrations, hurts–and the deepest hurts are from those whom we loved and, we thought, loved us. In all of this, my understanding of faith, in all its messiness, has been stretched, altered, and confirmed on occasion. Faith no longer is a static reality, a place of certitude that provides the illusive meta-narrative to explain all contingencies. It seems more of a companion inviting me to new possibilities and exposing the illusions of my perceived neat, tidy approach to God. I don’t know where my journey might take me, nor do I have any final answers; I am learning, however, to search for new questions. Thank you, Rebekah, as always for giving this pastor something to ponder. Shalom, sister.
I think the questions have been my undoing. Life was much easier when I thought I had all the answers. Thank you (as always) for finding something good in these words.