Living with disaonance

The funny thing about ideals, norms, and the boxes we expect people to fit in is that they most often represent the ideal rather than the real. Whose ideals are chosen as the acceptable standard varies—sometimes it’s historical, often it’s connected to power and control rooted in fear. Often, they are ideals we don’t care to uphold at all—yet it still stings to be rejected and dismissed. The problem is that it leaves a lot of us unable to stuff ourselves in the box we are being asked to fit in. But rather than questioning the box, we internalize the pain of not being able to stuff ourselves into an acceptable mold. We take the hit and watch as the bruises from the constraints evolve to callouses that we eventually learn to ignore. Because at some point it starts to hurt too much to keep trying to care. It hurts too much to try.

 

The older I get the more I think that the majority is outside the box, silently suffering while our worth slips away. But the box still holds the power, and the minority inside still finds ways to control the narrative. I suppose this is how rebellions are born, both personal and societal. Maybe it’s just where mine started, I won’t speak for anyone else.

 

There are benefits to never having fit in the box I was handed. It meant that from a very young age I learned how to navigate people not approving of me—even people I loved most. It has given me compassion and empathy for fellow rebels, even when our causes differ. Because there is a universal understanding that comes through “I am not what they want me to be.”

 

It has also given me the opportunity to learn about my actual divine worth straight from the source. Working on creating and sustaining a direct relationship with God and Christ myself has been essential for my survival in a way that might not have been as necessary without the resistance. And that relationship has always taught be one thing—that my worth is unchangeable.

 

I think Jesus actually does have a box of sorts. He teaches values and ideals and hopes that we will follow Him. I don’t think it is a free-for-all, do whatever you want type of relationship. All good relationships have boundaries and expectations. That box, however, is built from ideals that serve us. Ideals that help us feel better, become stronger, and love better. And when our choices take us out of the box? He reaches out for our rescue, guiding us back in. I don’t believe he works through fear, shame, or control. Only invitation. And unlike all the man-made boxes of our world, Christ’s truly has room for everyone and flexibility to hold diversity, nuance, and complexity.  

 

The heaviest dissonance I carry, is when what I believe Christ to be is in conflict with someone or something claiming to carry His name and His ideals. It is confusing when what I believe to be true from my relationship with my divine source differs from the experience I have in religion, or with people gatekeeping His gospel. Maybe you have felt that weight too?

This gap that I have been asked to jump across many times in my life can feel like a soul rupture. It hurts. It is confusing. It begs examination but rarely offers resolution. Maybe one day it is resolved for some, but for me—I am still just carrying it. Living in it.

 

I have many reasons for choosing to return to religion, even a religion that has caused me pain. I don’t feel the need to publicly defend that choice, but it isn’t one I take lightly, and it’s not a choice that always feels easy. But I do like it here. I like believing. I like serving. I like Jesus. I like living my life this way. It is the love that I have for my faith that makes it hurt so much more when I am once again reminded that even still, I don’t fit in the box they want me to be in.

 

Something happened Friday afternoon that returned me to a place of wondering, is there really a place for me here? Is there space for me in the world of faith? Do I have it in me to keep fighting for the right to be myself?

 

But then I remembered what I know. And what I know is that Christ is on my side. I work to stay open to taking accountability and continuing to evolve into a person who carries His light. I am forever a work in progress, but I like who I am. And I believe God does too. I remembered that I don’t have to fight for the approval of people whose boxes feel suffocating.

 

It's not just ok to not fit in a box, it’s by divine design.

 

Today at church we sang Come Thou Fount, and though I have loved that song forever, a new line stood out today.

 

Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

(a fetter is like a binding chain in cause you needed it defined like I did)

 

The goodness is what binds us. Not fear. Not shame. Not control. Christ doesn’t use those things. He uses goodness, love, encouragement, and sacrifice. If we are willing to go deep in enough in our divine relationships, we will experience that goodness. It is the light that will keep us choosing it. It is the light that sustains hope even in impossible times. It is the light that will show us who we really are, and who we really can become.

 

I tried for many years to hold on to Christ through fear and shame and desperation, but it never stuck. I indeed have a wandering heart. But now, I have experienced His goodness. I am a witness to the power of His light, His guidance, and His love that transcends my understanding. That goodness is binding. Even when I am rejected, even in my deepest grief, and even when other sources attack my worth. The goodness keeps me holding on.