spiritual formation
rebuilding after deconstructing: 6. igniting passion
“the glory of God is man fully alive.” – st. irenaeus
here we are, at part 6 of this crazy-intense series on rebuilding our faith after deconstructing. the previous posts are introduction, 1. honoring the process 2. acknowledging losses 3. discovering what remains 4. finding what works 5. celebrating what was.
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the idea of this series is to provide a loose framework & practices for the big themes of rebuilding. for some, it’s challenging & stirring up hard stuff. for others, it’s hopeful and brings relief. for others, it’s just plain annoying because the thought of rebuilding anything is too difficult right now. may we honor that we’re all in different places and integrate this material in ways that work for us.
the deconstruction process can often feel like dying. because it is. old parts of our spiritual life need to die so that new ones can emerge. what i appreciate about seasons (even though i’d love to live on a beach where it’s perpetually summer) is that we need winter for spring to emerge. dying-winter-grief can feel so dark, ugly, painful and cold but if we hang in & hang on, new life can rise out of the ashes, buds can start to form on bleak, stark limbs.
a core piece of rebuilding is beginning to resurrect parts of us that have been lost, squelched, stifled, ignored, unvalued over the years.
we can’t think our way into a new life, but we can live our way into a new life. part of rebuilding is really somehow about our souls being “born again.”
and this requires getting in touch with what brings us life, what ignites our passion.
this stage of rebuilding is different from “finding what works” because that is centered on discovering new ways to connect with God. igniting passion is about finding purpose, meaning, and ways to channel our hearts & energy & time in directions that bring life & hope.
in stage 3, the productive life, before we hit the wall & things began to disintegrate, serving was about doing, working, contributing to toward a system in need of helpers. igniting passion is part of the transition from stage 4′s messy painful journey inward to stage 5, the journey outward. it’s where we begin to serve & love & live with much greater freedom–out of passion instead of duty.
we all have some kind of dream–things we’d like to do, build, try, be-a-part of, live out.
these can be little things, big things. “church” things, not-clearly-related-to-church things. exciting things, simple things.
regardless, part of a renewed faith is acknowledging our passion & desire those “things” and stepping into them somehow, someway, without having to ask for permission.
a sad part about many of our church experiences is that unless our passions “somehow serve the system” many haven’t been encouraged or nurtured (i always say churches have made handing-out-programs-at-church sound like the greatest spiritual gift ever!). there is so much beauty & hope & passion & wildness & glory waiting to be uncovered as people are set free to live, serve, love in whatever ways God is calling.
also, please try to hold on to this: having passions & hopes & dreams are not selfish, no matter what people or churches may have told you.
God’s image is best reflected in his people, fully alive.
as we thaw out our hearts and find our way, it’s important to get in touch with what lights our fire:
what do we love to do?
who or what do we care about?
what gets our juices flowing when we start talking about it?
then the question is: how can we fan that flicker of passion into a brighter flame?
it’s not all-inclusive but it seems like a lot of our passions fall into these 3 primary categories (they overlap a lot, too, and i’m sure there are many other areas of passion but it seems like so many come back to these).
many of us are passionate about:
love. we care about loving people, presence, caring, serving, being Christ’s hands and feet, reflecting God’s image in hard places, restoring dignity.
justice. we are advocates and care about causes. we want to change systems, stand on behalf of the oppressed, raise awareness, and make what’s wrong right.
beauty. we care about beauty, nature, creativity & the arts and the power of it to heal & restore & inspire & uncover God’s image in ourselves & other people.
some of us have already found ways to live out our passion. the flame has been lit and the fire’s roaring. others of us may feel more scared to step out because we know it will be without the support & encouragement of the systems we used to be (or are still) part of. others are somewhere in between and not quite sure yet; any kind of passion still feels buried pretty deep.
regardless of where we each find ourselves, part of rebuilding faith is igniting our passions–ones buried underneath a lot of rubble or ones recently discovered.
passions don’t have to look like starting new nonprofits, planting churches, adopting kids, writing a book, or moving to africa tomorrow (although they most certainly can!) they can also look like taking a class we’ve always wanted to take, volunteering at a nonprofit that does work we care about, learning something we’ve always wanted to learn, doing something we’ve always wanted to do but haven’t because we’ve been too busy at church. it can be stepping out in any small way that feels like movement toward life instead of standing still.
the best way we can participate in bringing change & hope & goodness to this world is to live instead of die. try something instead of nothing. fan a flicker into flame instead of letting it be snuffed out.
what are some passions that are starting to ignite for you (or that you hope will)?
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tomorrow, the second-to-last part: 7. exploring possibilities
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rebuilding after deconstructing: 5. celebrating what was
oh i wish some of you could have seen me years ago. i was the best-christian-good-girl-ever! it would make you laugh (or cry). and as much as i can’t believe that was me, i keep learning how important it is to honor that stage of my faith as a very important part of my story. instead of rejecting it and being mad at myself for some of the things i believed & the ways i behaved, i am learning to honor and celebrate it.
it was part of the process.
as we continue to move toward greater hope & life & freedom in our faith, it’s really important to not dismiss or reject or remain bitter about the past but instead find ways to celebrate what was as we actively move toward what is and what could be. (one side note: when spiritual abuse was part of the equation, we aren’t supposed to celebrate that. that is in another category completely). i’m talking about parts of our journey that we have since moved past but deserve to be honored somehow so we can not be-so-pissed-off-about-them-all-the-time.
for me, here are some things that i want to respect, honor, and celebrate from my past:
i learned so much about the Bible during those years. almost all of the scriptures that i know & love & still bring me hope come from those times of intense learning and study.
i gained respect for rules, boundaries, and what it meant to submit to some kind of authority. i wasn’t raised like that, and even though some of it was wacky, the basics of having a structure & framework for living was what i needed in my early adult years.
i discovered what gathering regularly with other people looked & felt like. i had never been part of any consistent groups before i became a christian and started going to bible studies and small groups. it instilled in me a deep desire for intention and community.
the comfort of being with others-who-believed-just-like-me was really healing, especially when i desperately needed to feel more secure and protected because of my family of origin. it helped me when i needed it most. now, i don’t need that kind of security anymore.
i made a lot of amazing friends along the way. some of them think i’ve gone off the deep end but many others still love me and we remain connected despite differing practices & beliefs.
some of our good-christian-parenting-practices weren’t all bad. in fact, i am grateful for many of them. (yes, we were growing kids God’s way-ers; sarah & megan, i know you’re cringing right now!) of course, i am in a totally different place now but the truth is that a few things from that season were good and have helped jose and i in parenting all these kids.
the inspiration helped me for a while. during that season, the wow-factor drew me in & stirred my soul & made me want to connect with God. even though it out-wore its welcome, it had its place.
there are others, but those are a few off the top of my head.
another way to frame this is to consider a gratitude list related to what was. do what works for you, how works for you, but it does seem like gratitude heals.
i could reframe a few of mine to say: “i’m grateful for what i learned about the Bible during those years” or “i am grateful for boundaries, rules, and structures that i needed during that season of my life.”
this step of “celebrating what was” isn’t about looking at the past through rose-colored-glasses or stirring up false memories to feel better about things or forcing ourselves to go where we just can’t go. please don’t feel pressure to do this right now if you’re just not ready & you find yourself feeling icky about it.
it’s about remembering that where we were was part of our story. these experiences shaped and formed us into who we are today. good, bad, or ugly, these things were part of our faith journey with God and where we are today. this practice is a little like “discovering what remains”. instead of always thinking of all of the negative-things-we-wish-weren’t-part-of-our-experience, it’s about focusing on the good. it’s about honoring the past for what it was, and the good parts that it did indeed bring to our faith, our growth, our development as people.
it helps to celebrate what was so we can leave it behind in a better place as we begin to nurture and enjoy what is and what could be.
what might you need to celebrate about “what was”?
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tomorrow: igniting passion
also, my blog friend lisa delay is hosting a series related to spiritual guidance for blogging. she asked me to participate and here’s what i shared: be yourself. everyone else is taken. really, it’s not just for blogging but for all of us. how can we become more comfortable in our own skin? that will be the work of our lives, and for me, blogging is just one way to work on it. check it out at her site.
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rebuilding after deconstructing: 4. finding what works
this is the 5th post in a series here on rebuilding after deconstructing and navigating through deep shifts in our faith. the other posts are: introduction, 1. honoring the process, 2. acknowledging losses. 3. discovering what remains. thank you for all of the responses. hard but beautiful stuff.
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every wednesday night at our house we have a “house of refuge”. it’s a wild, diverse & open group that’s been meeting since the refuge started in 2006. we share a meal & spiritual conversation lead by a different person each week (i call it “spiritual show and tell”). it’s so fun (and wacky, too). a few years ago, a friend shared at our group a significant truth from alcoholics anonymous that i have never forgotten. she has a lot of sobriety and has helped many others along the way. she shared that when it comes to getting sober, people need to do “whatever works” (that doesn’t harm or hurt ourselves or anyone else).
desperate circumstances require desperate measures. whatever works means finding something that keeps us sober so that we can get some healing underneath our belt and get on more solid ground.
these words have lingered, and as someone who journeys with a lot of hurting people related to life & faith, i use it all the time.
when we are in a battle to rebuild our faith, we need to do whatever works.
when we’re tired, hurting, and confused, we can’t worry about spiritual technicalities and what other people deem as must-have-beliefs-or-practices-that-”count” as spiritual enough. these are things that got a lot of us into trouble in the first place.
from what i can tell, God is not a God of technicalities.
people are. but God’s not.
God is bigger than our boxes–and other people’s boxes, too.
part of rebuilding our faith requires finding ways to connect with God & our souls that make us come more alive.
finding what works is about experimenting with practices and ways of being that create life, passion, and connection. God is in those places, even if none of these areas seem overtly “spiritual” in the weird & limiting ways we have been taught to define it. we must keep bridging the divide between the sacred and the secular and respect that God is always present–revealing, stirring, challenging, reminding, healing, inspiring, convicting, loving.
i realize some of your evangelometers might be going off right now, flashing “warning, warning–whatever works is dangerous, whatever works is dangerous.” but on this rebuilding & renewal process, i am going to firmly say that i think any connection with God is better than no connection with God. technicalities, forced-practices, and assuming that God needs our “perfect” ideas about the Bible, typical church, and certain specifics in order to show up will wreck our rebuilding because it’s just far too limiting.
remember my friend’s sharing–when people are getting sober, they need to find whatever works. it’s not forever. over time, those-in-recovery will have to do all kinds of other things & participate in all kinds of other practices that don’t feel great as part of our healing. as people of faith, people renewing our faith, whatever works won’t work forever. there are many times we will need to engage in different practices we don’t like in order to grow.
just not right now.
some of those practices almost ruined us so we can’t expect them to bring us life today. during the time of trying to find our way back to God & hope & faith & more secure ground, i strongly and firmly believe we need to start with whatever works.
here are some of the ways “whatever works” can look:
what makes us feel alive? what makes us feel loved? what are we passionate about? do those, do those, do those. try not to evaluate its spiritual-depth but just enjoy the feelings of connection & hope.
there are lots of ways to connect with God . this exercise is really freeing, check it out if you haven’t already.
if reading the Bible freaks us out right now, put it on the shelf and find something else to read that is inspiring and challenging.
if we miss the Bible and want to try to open it again, do, and allow ourselves the practice of reading it for its beauty instead of study or in any way that inspires & challenges.
if connecting with God as father is jacking us up, consider another aspect of God’s character and image that does bring life (i often ask–what part of God do you want to connect with, do you really need right now & start there. a lot of people say Jesus as my friend but there are a lot of aspects of God to work with!).
practice soul care – rest, play, fun, art, music, movies, beauty. when our souls are nurtured & strengthened & find rest and peace, God is there. (i meet God at the movies almost every time).
go to the social hour at church & visit with people you love…then leave when they start preaching or singing or whatever-might-cause-an-allergic-reaction.
dig down and find what feels helpful to us, not what we see someone else doing or think we “should” be doing. keep asking–what helps? what helps us feel more alive, more human, more awake?
for me, one of the most sustaining pieces of my faith journey has been sticking with what makes my heart come alive–people. community & connection & conversations have been my “whatever works” and have kept me tethered to God. i am often criticized for not being spiritual-enough, biblical-enough, christian-enough. but i don’t care because people have kept my faith alive.
and i’m pretty sure that’s enough for God.
it’s certainly enough for me.
what’s “working” for you right now?
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tomorrow: celebrating what was
Read Morerebuilding after deconstructing: 3. discovering what remains
* this is the 4th post for a series on rebuilding and renewing our faith after going through huge scary shifts. i have never posted this much in the entire life of my blog! but i do kind of like moving through it quickly instead of over several months and then people can come back and access the material whenever and however they need. this is only meant to provide an overview of some of the major themes on this journey. i realize it’s kind of like drinking water out of a firehose, but i’m not quite sure if there’s a way around that feeling on this big stuff.
here are the first 3 posts:
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when our idea of our own faith goes downward, so many things can look different–the bible, the creeds, and all kinds of things that we were told we had to have as a believer. this will leave us feeling very lost sometimes.
one of the things that gives us the most trouble is that we have been taught that in order to “belong” we needed to “believe.” so when we aren’t quite sure what we believe anymore, we can definitely feel like we have nowhere to belong.
recently i did a little exercise by researching things that were written on typical christian statements of faith. warning: don’t do it! it’s rough out there and so many different groups have their different opinions on what qualifies as being “the right kind of belief to belong.”
while i value the centering premises of creeds & statements of faith because they help orient people around common beliefs, i also think they can be very limiting, especially for those who find themselves on the fringes.
the first part of rebuilding our faith after losing some of it is to discover what remains.
often, we think it’s all gone because it feels that way. but if we dig down deep, we discover that there are remnants of our faith left. parts that still are alive. parts that can’t be taken away.
when i look at Jesus’ ministry, i do not see him sitting all of these new followers down and making them sign doctrinal statements of faith. the one requirement seemed to be an open heart toward him.
i’m reminded of the first beatitude here, blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:3).
sometimes, to protect ourselves from the pain of deconstruction, we close our heart to God because it hurts too much.
part of rebuilding does require an open heart; i don’t think we have to fling it open for God but we need to somehow open it at least a little. a practice we can do to help us open our heart is “discover what remains”, no matter how simple or complicated.
it seems like Jesus summarized a heck of a lot of teaching into: love God, love others as yourself.
i’ve yet to see a doctrinal statement that said “we are committed to trying to live these simple-but-hard-to-actually-do tenets out as best we can.”
i believe, more than ever, that God doesn’t seem to have the same lists men make.
when we are deconstructing and can’t hold to some of our old beliefs anymore, the biggest question that remains is: what might be left when it comes to our faith?
what’s something we still believe in, no matter how big or small?
what’s something that hasn’t been lost or taken away?
what’s something that still brings us hope?
what part of our faith still remains?
what do we still trust about God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit or all three no matter how simple?
for me, something that has sustained me deeply is that God is Emmanuel, with me, with us, and will never leave or forsake me. that has carried me through many a dark night.
years ago at our house of refuge the person facilitating asked us to think of the “one thing” that when it was all said & done we held on to when it came to our faith. for the conversation, he used this film clip:
when it comes to finding what remains, “one thing” looks different for each of us. some of us need much more than one. for others of us, realizing we actually still have one can bring hope.
an important part of this step is to remember is it’s not bad to still believe a lot of things that others may have let go of.
and it’s also not bad to let go of some of the things that others still hold on to.
i really love the refuge’s “what we believe (so far)”; it’s got more than one thing on it but as i read through them, they resonate deeply.
part of our own personal work requires excavating through all of the rubble to find what still remains. to center on what is still part of our faith, no matter how big or small, instead of only focusing on what isn’t.
people around us might not be able to hack this kind of excavation and stripping-away-so-much-of-what-was, but i believe God can.
i still think it’s quite amazing what God seems to do with just a little.
discovering what remains is a critical part of rebuilding our faith. it can be as simple or complex as it needs to be, but i think it’s helpful to try to find it.
and own it. at least for now.
what remains for you that brings you hope?
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next, on monday: finding what works
tomorrow i have a guest post up as part of ed cyzewski’s series on women in ministry. i’ll link to it once it’s up so you hopefully can go over there read it. it makes me smile whenever i think of it, it’s called “well-behaved women won’t change the church”. i hope that makes some of you smile, too.
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rebuilding after deconstructing: 2. acknowledging losses
“grief is itself a medicine.” ~ william cowper
thank you for your honest & beautiful & hard responses to what the first 2 posts in this series have stirred up. i’m always reminded in these moments how many of us are out there asking the same questions, feeling the same feelings, trying to find our way. if you haven’t read them already, read the intro post & part 1. honoring the process first.
as i mentioned yesterday, grief work is a big part of this journey toward something new with God. i’m not going to go into all of the ins and outs of grief here, but it is really important to acknowledge that these shifts are losses.
real losses.
like death & divorce & other big events where nothing will ever be the same anymore.
an initial part of any kind of grief is denial. we often protect ourselves by minimizing, suppressing, pushing down the feelings, and blaming. it’s scary to actually feel the magnitude of the loss, and sometimes in the early part of our grieving process, we just can’t.
but eventually, our healing requires it.
i am one of the best minimizers in town. i know how to gloss over pain, make it not-as-bad, take the blame, anything, really, to not feel hard feelings. on this spiritual shifting process, though, what i keep learning is how important it is to respect and honor what i am really feeling instead of hide behind “it’s not that big of a deal, what’s my problem anyway, i just need to get over it and figure out a way to move on.” my middle name could be “bootstraps”–yep, kathy bootstraps escobar. i know what it means to pull myself up by my bootstraps and carry on.
it usually always comes back to bite me.
moving through this hard stuff toward renewal and change, a bootstraps-mentality will get us into trouble because we’ll avoid looking at the real feelings underneath. when it comes to issues around pain & healing, i always say “pay now or pay later with interest.” if we push it down and try to minimize, avoid, or skim over it, eventually the pain & hurt will ooze out, but even stronger with more collateral damage.
for me, one of the hardest parts on my spiritual journey has been acknowledging how much i have really lost over the years through this process. it’s easy to look at my life now and see how much i’ve gained. it’s true, i am free-er & healthier than i’ve been in a long time. but the truth is, i’ve still lost a lot of what i once held dear. things that protected me. comforted me. buoyed me. helped me. loved me. so much has gone since i left the fold of familiar and traditional systems and started on this new path.
many of us are very in touch with our losses already; they are on the tip of our tongue, and we have been saying them out loud for a while. others of us may have a harder time with acknowledging losses. we may even feel shame for admitting some of them. we may think they aren’t that big of a deal, that they aren’t real losses or shouldn’t hurt so much.
i want to keep reminding everyone is that this kind of loss is real.
and part of moving forward toward renewal & change is to acknowledge our losses in safe spaces.
this is not so that we can feel cruddier about ourselves and feel more lost. but rather so that we can own the reality of our experience and respect the costs. acknowledging losses is painful but it also validates something important in our souls. it gives us the ability to go “oh yeah, that was really hard. i miss that. i miss them. i’m sad about that. it hurts.”
in our walking wounded: hope for those hurt by the church class, we process this more intentionally, but for the sake of brevity and one blog post, i want to challenge us each to consider what we’ve lost so far in this weird & scary process. it helps us be able to move forward.
if you want to, write them down somewhere. consider both tangible and intangible losses. tangible ones are clear and real, as in “i lost my job” or “i lost my church family” or “i lost this relationship or friendship.” intangible ones are a little harder to pin down but equally important–”i lost my safety and security” or “i lost my passion for anything related to God” or “i lost my ability to trust my instincts.”
below are some of mine off the top of my head; a lot of my process includes church baggage.
over time, i have lost:
- some really important friendships that i still grieve.
- a good paying ministry job.
- my innocence.
- my confidence.
- trust in leadership, almost any kind.
- the ability to experience a spiritual high.
- security, the safety net of other people who thought & believed & were just like me.
- desire and passion for the Bible in the ways that used to clearly “work.”
- the comfort of certainty, damn i miss it sometimes.
what about you, what have you lost? if you’re willing to be honest here, i think it would help others feel less alone. i know it always helps me.
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next in the series we’ll switch gears to: discovering what remains
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rebuilding after deconstruction: 1. honoring the process
*this is first in a series of posts centered on rebuilding our faith after deconstructing. read the intro post first if you haven’t already.
in 2004, after one year of counseling classes and a switch to 2 years of spiritual direction courses i earned a certificate in evangelical spiritual guidance (now called soul care & spiritual formation) at denver seminary. i was strangely drawn to spiritual direction from my very first class in 2001. it gave language to much of what we had been talking about in the different little covert groups i had been part of since 1993. it centered on our honest feelings about God, where we felt God’s presence (and where we didn’t), and embraced the mystical creative work of the Holy Spirit over the knowledge-based discipline I had mostly been taught through church.
the part i love the most about spiritual direction is that it always honors the process of spiritual growth. it doesn’t rush. it doesn’t force. it doesn’t shortcut. it doesn’t demand. it trusts the process.
one of the things that sustained me during my life’s shifts, maybe more than any other tool or resource, was a book i read in one of my spiritual direction classes called the critical journey: stages in the life of faith by janet hagberg and robert guelich. i adapted a chart from their work, which i shared when i first started this blog in a post called a nifty chart for the journey and also in down we go on the chapter called welcoming pain. i also wrote about it in a post called the wall & the wilderness.
if you haven’t seen it before, download it first (it’s only 1 page). this post won’t make as much sense unless you read it.
- as a word doc
- in a pdf
briefly, this model shares 6 stages of faith development:
1) recognition of God
2) life of discipleship
3) the productive life
// hitting the wall where all we once knew gets turned upside down somehow //
4) the journey inward
5) the journey outward
6) a life of love
the majority of people live in stages 1-3 because these are what most faith systems rely on to keep their wheels spinning. these stages include safe containers, clear boundaries, and distinct patterns of behavior.
many people eventually hit the wall, which is between stages 3 and 4. we can meet the wall due to a loss, crisis, an event, or some kind of radical shift where suddenly all we once clung to stops working.
many people, when face-to-face with the wall, end up dancing around it briefly, and heading back to the safety of stage 3. also, the pull back to stage 3 is always strong from those who haven’t been further. they find the wall disconcerting, even threatening, and say and do all kinds of dumb things to encourage people to come back.
deconstructors can’t go back.
most every honest deconstructor enters stage 4, the journey inward. our faith, all that we believed about ourselves, others, and God, gets rattled in a deep and sincere way; our old tricks & disciplines stop working. part of the brave process of deconstructing involves honoring that stage 4 is a necessary part of our spiritual development.
safe, secure systems can handle growth and change. unsafe, insecure systems can’t. in fact, growth and change is often labeled as rebellion, divisiveness, and heresy, when really it is just maturity trying to emerge.
hitting the wall and going inward is not something to be feared but something to be honored.
there are a few important things i keep learning about honoring the deconstruction process:
- the previous stages were necessary. we can’t skip over them, even though we desperately wish we had. when i reflect on my faith journey, it’s easy to get mad at myself–how could i have been so rigid, so certain, so willing to buy into weird beliefs for the sake of fitting in? but when i see faith as a natural process, i can honor the past for what it was.
- unless someone’s gone through the wall, they can’t understand what it feels like. expecting those in stages 1-3 to understand and empathize isn’t fair, even though that’s what many of us long for. another part of the problem & pain is that many of our leaders haven’t done this work so we can’t expect them to guide us.
- the journey inward of stage 4, which is the stage of deconstruction, can take a long time and that’s okay. like a baby’s birth, we can’t rush it. my wise friend phyllis mathis calls our rush to an easier place a “spiritual bypass.” a bypass tends to lead us back to stages 1-3, just with a different twist. sticking through stage 4 with integrity and doing the hard work of waiting & wrestling eventually gets us to a much more secure & meaningful place than a bypass.
- the journey inward involves a helluva lot of grief. as a western culture we are scared of grief; as evangelical-y christians, we are even more afraid of it because we’ve been taught it’s not okay to be sad or mad or confused. part of healthy deconstruction is honoring our grief; denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance are all painful parts of this process.
like so many other issues of faith, there is no perfect formula, no A+B+C=D. but it’s so important as we honor this process to remember these changes & shifts aren’t a lack of faith. or a rebellious spirit. or a hardened heart. or us being self-centered. rather, they are part of faith–and ongoing transformation and spiritual maturation.
it is very healing to honor the process and see it as beautiful & natural & good, even though it can feel terrifying.
all who wander are not lost.
in fact, we wanderers are brave enough to move toward something deeper, richer, more satisfying, more free.
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next in this series: acknowledging losses.
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