There is one topic which I have thus far avoided. I’m not sure why, although I have a guess: I think I wanted people to read and relate to my blog. And I don’t think that posting on this particular topic will make people unable to relate; I only fear that they will stop reading and never know that this aspect of my life does not hinder my ability to communicate with people who feel differently. Unfortunately, I cannot continue to write about my ManifAustin journey without talking about one of the principal driving forces in my life: my faith.
A little background: I grew up in the United Methodist Church, where people are allowed to believe in God from their earliest memory, where a relationship with God can be a tradition in which one is raised, rather than a conversion that occurs with public profession and fireworks. Now, I believe that my faith is no less real for having been instilled in me from youth, but plenty of people have told me that such is the case, that I needed to come to Jesus in a Don-Draper-convinces-the-lipstick-guys sort of way.
I’m going to fast-forward through all of that because it no longer informs my walk. I struggled in an ultra-conservative Christian high school and an ultra-liberal household. The Church became for me a place where bad people perverted the goodness of the faith which they professed. In college, God blessed me with a roommate and best friend who shined with love that came from God, and who still struggled with a humanity that she was willing to expose, and my faith in good Christians was restored. The winter after I graduated, my reality was broken, and I was lost. I was confused as to why the good and loving God in whom I believed wasn’t protecting me. And for another year, my faith was challenged as my life cycled–every time I had, calamity struck. And every time I was empty, there was a near-miraculous provision.
The story that my life is now, however, really starts toward the end of 2011, when I poured out to a new friend and model Christ-follower that I was ready to walk away from God and no longer be a Christian. It was too hard, too painful, too stressful. My faith was a burden. And she said absolutely nothing comforting. I don’t even remember that she said much of anything. She just looked at me without sympathy. And that turned out to be a turning point in my life. For I realized, in the face of that coolness, in the unyielding logic of one of the most rational people I have ever known, that what I was saying was ridiculous. I could no more stop believing in the existence of God than I could reject the existence of the parents who put me on this Earth.
2012 was an extremely important year for me, but I’m also going to fast-forward through it. I began to pray during Lent. Through prayer, God gave me the strength to walk away from a friendship that I recognized as destructive. At Easter, I realized that I needed to go to church regularly. In #Fla2012, my decision to live in prayer was bolstered by the affirmation of my best friend’s dad. I began to see the ups and downs of my life more clearly and to trust when I was in the valleys that the peaks would come. I began to see the ways in which I had been given everything when I deserved nothing. My whole outlook changed. I came to see that I was being forged for a life that would be fraught but profound. And I began to see that I had (with all my qualities and flaws) been designed with grace to meet the challenges and to serve a purpose.
Then my best friend moved to Oxford. And I was truly apart from her for the first time in 6 years (pretty much exactly). And I thought I would break. But I didn’t. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever felt so loved. Every email she took the time to write (and she is busy) reaffirmed that she loved me deeply, that she would always love me deeply. She loves me as a co-member of God’s fellowship and as a blessed sister (well, also as a friend in the non-faith-based sense, but that was harder to hold on to with her so far away). She loves me because God loves me. And that love (which I return) is unbreakable. The fights we had had, as friends, as sinners, and as humans, mean nothing in the face of the fact that we are united by the love of Christ; and our friendship will never be broken by any of that earthly nonsense. And in 2012, as I prepared for her departure, we had not one fight. All was love.
This is the present in which I live in Austin. I am apart from friends who are closer than family, for the first time in 6 and a half years. My spiritual guides are all far away. And yet my faith has been the unexpected foundation of my new life. At Servant Church, I have been instantly loved in this same way, as a blessed creation of God. My mentor told me I am “ripe for growth” and encouraged me to begin a journey that involves all this forgives stuff and other self-improvement measures to put me on the road to being a whole daughter of The Lord. And this church has been the cornerstone of my social life, which hasn’t been easy for me to build, given the one I left behind.
So that’s the story of my faith. It’s a large part of my life, but it’s not necessarily a large part of my writing. So I hope that those of you who do not share my beliefs will both accept this as a context of my postings and keep coming back for writing that makes a conscientious effort to be relatable to people coming from a variety of backgrounds. And I hope you’ll bear with me for the occasional posting about faith-based issues. Because these are a part of who I am. And that’s what ManifAustin is all about.