Self-Trust and Devotion

I used to be as Christian as they come.

One of my parents is a pastor. (They say that pastors’ children either go one of two ways: all-out rebel or perfect angel, and I was definitely in the latter category). I went to Bible camp every summer, worked at Bible camp in college, majored in religion, did a Lutheran volunteer year, got an MA in theology, and married a pastor.

I was all in.

It seemed my spiritual destiny was settled.

Until one day, it didn’t make sense anymore.

The best way I can describe it is that Christianity just stopped resonating in my body - like there was no place to plug into it anymore.

It was like Christianity said, “okay, enough; I love you, but you’re done now,” and gently released me.

Often, in stories like these, there’s some great religious trauma or injustice to prompt the exit. Not so much for me.

(I mean you can’t be a Christian as long as I was and never have any run-in’s with heterosexist, patriarchal bullshit - so that definitely happened, but it wasn’t the reason I left).

No, I truly believe I experienced the best Christianity has to offer. And it had a lot to offer.

I loved growing up in the church and having a parent for a pastor. I loved the rhythm of the liturgical calendar. Bible camp was a space of so much magic and mysticism that I got married there. In my academic work, I studied cutting edges of feminist and queer theology (that are rad AF.)

Christianity was a space of deep spiritual connection, love, and growth. It was a place where I was radicalized into justice. And there were so many times I felt alive and on purpose in that space.

Today, I see Christianity as a spiritual ancestor that I continue to love and respect.

And even in my departure, I feel the need to defend it - to say that some of the most devoted and radical progressives I know are Christians (including my favorite borderline biblical fundamentalist rabble-rouser: Jonathan Barker) and that there is so much movement around justice and liberation happening in Christian spaces.

But ultimately, I’m sharing all of this to say:

It’s okay for love and devotion to change.

You can love something and leave it. There doesn’t have to be a deep or dramatic reason. It can be a gentle letting-go.

Sometimes (and for some people), the right thing is devotion to one thing, one path, one destiny forever, and other times (for other people), it’s not.

Sometimes, it’s the right thing to move on. Sometimes, new things call us forward, and we feel the imperative to answer them.

Life is dynamic and unfolding and unpredictable, and so are we.

So trust yourself. Your life is for you, and I truly believe you know best how to live it.

The Honest, Gritty Truth about Change

Our capacity as human creatures to change, shift, and transform – to upend a life, identity, or trajectory to create a new one – is one of the most awe-inspiring marvels of life, in my experience.

We all possess this power, and that’s a beautiful truth.

But I don’t often see a lot of honest conversations about what change actually is and what it requires.

Change is wonderful – it’s also often hard and weird. It’s dangerous alchemy and volatile combustion. This is true whether the changes are good or bad, chosen or not, external or internal.

Because when we undergo a change that cracks or shatters our sense of reality or asks parts of us to die to be reborn, there are moments of empty (and perhaps terrifying) uncertainty, moments when we are confronted with the questions: who am I, and what is real? – and don’t know the answers.

And this unknowingness is destabilizing and catalytic – and certainly not as safe as the status quo.

I was reminded of this recently. I was having a hard mental health day and feeling confused about it, until I remembered I was in my own process of transformation. And since those changes were internal (and invisible) rather than obvious in my external world, I had overlooked the care I needed to navigate the process.

Because often, the actual, lived experience of transforming is one of our whole system being wobbly, out of alignment, and in an uneven, jumbled mess as parts of us deepen, grow, and expand, while others are left behind and trying to catch up.

I try to remember to expect all of this so that I can be intentional in creating space for my body and spirit to integrate, rest, and heal. Because there will probably be hard days, and things will probably get broken along the way. And when I can expect this and (sort of) prepare for it, I can more easily let the current carry me along and invite care and grace into the process.

The Power in Transformation

To me, one of the most beautiful things about being human is our ability to change - that we have the power to expand into otherness, shift our ways of thinking, and step into previously unconsidered possibility. It takes effort and willingness on our part, and sometimes hard and scary stuff gets in the way, but our capacity for transformation is one of our human superpowers.

Earlier this week, at the end of our conversation, one of my coaching clients said: “I’m always amazed how I can feel one way coming into these calls and feel completely different an hour later.” I was amazed too (I always am) but not surprised. Because this was simply a reflection of her ability to change her mind, move energy, and open herself to new possibilities - which are powers we all have.

I also think of a DV client I ran into one day at the airport, long after we finished our work together. After a decade in a toxic, abusive relationship, she was now safe, happy, and working for the airline I was flying. She had help and support, but ultimately, she was the one who did the work of taking the risk, changing her mind, and transforming her life.

In moments that feel impossible, I need to remember stories like these. I need to remember the times I’ve seen change happen in myself, in others, and in the world.

Life is hard. Trauma is real. Injustice exists. Not all of us make it out. If we’re awake, we see evidence of this everyday.

And this is also true: there is a power and a magic within us that creates worlds. We are truly remarkable creatures. Let’s not forget this, okay?

Remembering the Truth About Change

Change is a tricky and beautiful process.  I’m endlessly amazed at our ability to transform, shift, and create, whether that’s new habits, new mindsets, or new lives.  But I’m also aware how change is often a slow and winding process that can leave us feeling stuck, discouraged, and convinced we’re failing.  Whatever process of change I’m in at the moment, I find it goes a whole lot better if I remember the following:

Change is energy work.  Forming habits, shifting patterns, and creating something new involves working with and moving the energy of our thoughts, beliefs, and emotions.  Energy is dynamic.  It expands and contracts.  It’s always on the move.  The energetic expansion that comes with a breakthrough, insight, or step forward is often followed by a contraction as our system recalibrates, as the energy seeks new equilibrium, and as the old, dying thing fights for its life.  This might not feel so good.  It may feel like you’ve lost the thread.  All of this is normal.  Be gentle with yourself when there is big, energetic movement happening in your life and self.  Rest, drink water, cuddle with loved ones, all that good stuff.

Change is not about linear progress.  It is not about sustaining the energy of a breakthrough indefinitely.  Change is forgetting, remembering, then forgetting again.  It’s a process of laying new tracks in our brains, step by step, through conscious attention and intention.

Change is deeper than the things we’re building from and around it, whether that’s states of being (like feeling more calm, grounded, and clear), habits (numbers of days in a row we've meditated or gone to the gym), or tangible creations (words written, meals cooked, canvasses painted).  Real, sustainable, durable change happens when we go back in after we’ve missed a day, fallen off the wagon, or drifted from our calm, clear center.  It’s the shift we create within when we notice where we are, allow ourselves to be there, look around for the lost thread, and pick it up where we find it to try again. 

When you’re in the midst of a messy transformation, what do you most need to remember?  How can you show yourself love, gentleness, and care in the midst of the changes, chosen or unchosen, rocking your world?