What If: Faith is Just an Excuse to Serve Another Agenda?

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I find this to be one of the most fascinating and real questions asked in this process. And while it is a wildly entertaining philosophical conversation, the reality of the truth behind it is terrifying. The reason that we want to ask this question is because we know it happens. We need to look no further than our Twitter feeds to see the way that all good things are hijacked by those that refuse to protect holy and beautiful space.

At the heart of faith is a deep desire for connection. We long to known and be known. We stumble and fall and rise and soar in our efforts to connect. Along the way, both the expressions of religious alignment and the desire for control seep into our ego-centric wiring and distort our pure efforts. Countless times, in countless seasons of leadership, I have watched really great people be blinded by the need and desire to stake their claim not in the pursuit of Divine connection but in authority, positions, causes and security.

The really scary part of this experience is that these movements of human control rarely begin with malicious intent. Often, the gentle lull of right (vs wrong), truth (over deception) and wisdom (above immaturity) is the ignition spark that becomes an idol. Time and again, I have been witness to the working of the great magnifying glass of human ego that fuels a shift from holy pursuit to personal agenda. There is a moment, maybe even unnoticed, when an issue, belief or political gain moves from a spiritual aim/tool to a need for victory and control. This slippery slope is a dangerous, subversive shift. With the power that may have started as a calling, passion or stirring, the use of a spiritual cover often excuses the originator from the criticism and correction of others.

While my personal witness is primarily limited to Protestant Christianity, one needs to look no further than some of the greatest atrocities in history to see this exact situation flourish. While the “biggies” are easy to spot (often in hindsight), the more concerning modern dilemma is being lived out on the pages of our political systems, our denominational divisions and our justice movements. Please don’t mishear me. I believe, with all of my being, in a holistic approach to faith that demands action in the name of truth. What disappoints me most these days, however, is the accepted disconnect with the heart of God and the identified agenda. If you are a follower of the teachings of Jesus, and you hijack his message to give cover to your platform, shame on you. If you have studied the Quran or the Talmud and you are accessing holy truths for your own gain, I call heresy.

Of all of the ways that people of faith twist and distort the sacred for the things of self, this single spiritual misstep is one of the most costly. While many world religions differ on context and pathways, there is a constant thread that resonates throughout time. God is God. And the reason this is vital is the opposite motivation of this question: humility. With as much as I hate to admit this truth, the acceptance of the power and role of the Divine is a leveling, humbling, shaping and ego killing admission of powerlessness. Without this realization, and a constant leaning into the truth of relinquishing of power, we are not living in a posture of release. If there is one thing that I know is vital in the moments of surrender, it is deep desire to pursue the aim of not setting the agenda anymore.

What If: Religion is not Spiritual

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Over the last decade, I have had countless conversations with friends that would label themselves spiritual but not religious. This posture is a growing trend. Almost without exception, I find myself coming back to the same conclusion after these conversations. We are all wired to explore. We all experience things in life that we cannot explain. For so many people, the awareness of powers at work in the world can be attributed to a divine source. There is interest in conversations about ancient texts. There is a natural desire to understand healing and forgiveness. But these questions hit a road block when the point of view shifts from God, to the way humanity organizes to express their faith.

This is the point in the conversation that things get tricky for me. I am a church girl. I was baptized as an infant. I was in the pew every Sunday. I was a youth group officer, a retreat leader and a religious drum beater. Then I went to seminary and became a youth pastor. These are usually not interesting talking points for non-religiously interested humans. My life experiences define the things that repel them.

A fascinating thing has happened as I explore these conversations. The more relationships that I have built with non-religious people, the more I have seen God – in their questions, in their seeking, in their faith. There is a lack of fear in saying things that many of us have been taught were off limits. There is no such thing as a bad or wrong or too stupid question. There is not an preset belief about what you should or should not believe. From that space, the most seeking, pure, holy questions are asked.

So, back to the original question. What if religion is not spiritual? I don’t think it is. Religions are belief systems. Religions contain rituals and moral codes. Religions are rooted in culture and history. Religions are humanity’s attempt to communicate the experiences of the supernatural and organize those moments into a road map for living. Religion is not bad. But it is not fundamentally good, either. Religions, all religions, have failings and shortcomings. They have ways to communicate with followers that push them toward more devoted lives. But there are plenty of religious expressions that fall short of connecting followers to life giving strengths like love and peace.

I fully believe that the Divine Mystery of God is best celebrated as just that, a Divine Mystery. When we take the questions and wonder and expansiveness and beauty out of our practice, we drift far from Spirit and rally around expressions of uniformity. It is in these moments that religion becomes dangerous. When religious communities become about conformity and rule following and power, they lose the delicate connection that is rooted in listening and responding. When I think about religious communities that have traded their process of discovery for the lie of security, I often witness an obvious disconnect with spirituality. In these religious expressions, division and exclusion thrive. Unfortunately, these are the religious communities that attract the attention of the world. They are loud. They are politicized. They are machines of culture. And in mixing these things with the name of God, most un-religious seekers are not only uninterested but completely turned off.

For the sake of good, honest, ‘what if’ kind of living, may we shed the labels and the pre-programmed questions and answers long enough to listen and hope and ask. Together.

What If: This Season Changed the Way We Do Life?

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How is your household holding up? Is anyone else tired of trying to sift through the entire book of emotions (all of which have probably been felt at some point) to put your finger on the pulse of today’s crazy? I have not driven a car in more than a month. I have not been in a building that was not my home in 36 days. My two big “outings” have included riding in a car with someone else driving too remind myself that, in fact, the world has not ended. To say that I am on the crazy making roller coaster is a serious understatement. Some days I am completely content to have my simple schedule. Some days I am ready to claw the eyes out of all of the people in my path. Today may be one of those days…

For all the Enneagram lovers, I was quite fond of this accurate description of people like me:

“This type is mad. They’re mad they can’t protect or provide for everyone. They’re mad that people they think are incompetent have the power to restrict their movements. They’re certain if they were in charge they could do things better than everyone else. And they’re especially repelled by what they perceive as weakness in the people around them.”

One of my greatest struggles has been my inability to control the irresponsible actions of other people. I am the person that sees your Snapchat picture with your “one best friend” and judges you for being in public. That’s me. I realized that part of my struggle is that I am completely uncomfortable with anyone except for me being in charge. I hate it. And I would really be much happier if I could control ALL the things. But I can’t. And I can’t see my mom and dad. And I can’t watch my daughter graduate and go to prom. And I can’t hang out with my friend. While my go to is anger, the root is sadness. I am sad. This is hard. So, very hard.

On the days when I can find some clarity of thought, I try to be mature and wise and thoughtful and ponder these types of ‘what if’s,’ but you must know, this is not my natural posture. But for the sake of this question, here are 5 things that I have picked up from this bizarre and challenging time:

  1. I need my people. My people are more important than I thought. I have loved the time that I have shared with my husband and daughters. We have cooked and laughed and yelled and worked puzzles and had movie marathons. I love these 3 with all of my heart. But, GOOD GRIEF, I need the other people. I need the ones that talk to me in different emotional languages. I need the ones that sit at coffee with me for 3+ hours…something that would be painful for the current occupants of my home. I need the ones that like to challenge my thoughts rather than my instructions to load the dishwasher. My other people are necessary.
  2. I need to adventure. I miss getting in my car and driving with the windows down and the radio loud. I know what you are about to say, “you could still do that.” But if you have ever been around me, you know that my drives include big boujee drinks and frequent bathroom stops. Neither of these are stay-at-home friendly. I would also be the jerk that has a wreck joy riding…and I would NEVER hear the end of it.
  3. I need to have a better rhythm. I resist being told how and when to do things. But one thing that I know that has to change after this season is that I must build into my life rhythmic time for walking and thinking and soul stillness. I can know these things are necessary, but until they are thrust upon me I don’t appreciate them. And even then, no one is making me do them now, but there is so much down time that in my boredom I have done the things that I really need. I have seen these moments transform my quarantine experience. I don’t always enjoy what these moments expose, but I treasure truth. Rhythm is gold for people like me. And I hope I can continue to see the value when the schedule fills again.
  4. I need to say “no” more. I like to be needed. Because I know that I can do all the things, I tend to take the reins of projects that should not be mine in the first place. This season has taught me that it is healthy to step out. I am not responsible for all the people. I am not able to control the people or the things. So, dear Lacy, know your role.
  5. And here is the big one: I don’t need to go to Target, Marshall’s and all the other places like it is my job. I miss wandering. I miss being lost in a moment of dreaming of new and exciting. I have traditionally found that in shopping and buying. While I have purchased things on the internet, I have honestly not missed wandering in a store. I find wandering in my neighborhood walking trails has produced a similar experience with less debt and more wisdom. I’m not saying that this won’t ever happen again, but I do think this new awareness has been insightful and challenging. I’m looking forward to finding new places to wander and dream when I explore again.

What If: You Could Change One Thing From Your Past?

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Just one? I mean I have so many moments that I would like to revisit. So many times when I have said or done something in a way that changed things. When the cutting words forever changed the friendship. When driving away forever changed the level of trust. When the decision to abandon myself transformed my ability to look in the mirror. There are many, many moments of regret. But the more that I live, the more I understand that there is a difference between cleaning up the wreckage of your past and “changing” or shutting the door on your past. The difference is actually quite significant.

For the first decade of adulthood, I believed wholeheartedly that running from my past mistakes was the least painful way to live. I was particularly fond of avoiding those situations that required me to look inward and admit that I owed an apology. This work is hard. It is messy. It requires self assessment and a desire to grow. At 25, these moments were extremely unappealing as I was sure that I knew better than those that suggested such things. As time passed and as I began to see my own failures for what they were, I knew these were opportunities to grow.

But there are some things that are bigger. Sometimes they are even scary. There are moments in time where life was headed in a particular direction and then it took a hard left. As I reflect on some of these moments, I remember car accidents, deaths, the end of relationships. I can almost instantly transport my heart to the moment that those monumental events happened. When the call came. When the arrest was made. When the test confirmed what you already knew. Some of these moments are so long ago, and yet in reflection, our hearts and minds are instantly drawn back to the pain and grief and heaviness. We can feel the weight of something that happened decades ago wash over us with just a momentary time warp.

There is a line that I learned in recovery that I go back to anytime this ‘what if’ comes to my mind. “We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it” is one of the 9th step Promises. The first time I saw this printed on the wall of a recovery room, I thought for sure that this was lie. There was no way that I could get to a point that I would not only not regret the past, but I would not want to forget about it? This statement seemed to imply that I would make peace with the past.

This particular promise is not guaranteed on day 1. It is not given until after the first 9 steps (which include things like admitting powerlessness, turning pain over to the Divine, taking responsibility, honestly sharing your life with another human, looking at your part and making amends) are completed. To tell you that there is work to not regretting the past, is like saying that babies may need their diaper changed. It’s an absolute journey of necessity and regular duty. It is a passionate calling that is not for the feint of heart. This is a quest into the soul. It will wear you down in ways that you did not know were possible. But I can tell you that the promise is true.

I have countless things that I still wish had not happened in my life. Sure, I would gladly take away everything painful, from the random bumps and bruises to the deep gaping wounds that still have a tendency to cause unexpected reappearances or numbness on particularly hard days. But to go back, to try and do them over, would change me. Those days when the phone call changed everything or the mason jar of Wild Turkey seemed like a good idea are the very things that make me who I am today. As hard as it is to say, without the horrible terrible’s, the person that is standing today would not be me. It is in the experiences of life that I have been formed and that includes the really hard ones. They have shaped me in the hottest fire. I have used their scar tissue to walk alongside other people with similar scars. I have dug deep into the wells of strength that I have been given to withstand other setbacks. I have embraced that in not dying, I have a call to live. I have survived. And yes, that is in my very best Gloria Gaynor voice.

What If: The Devil Doesn’t Even Begin to Describe the Evil of this World?

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The devil. What a fascinating historical and literary image that scholars have passionately pursued for generations in all areas of art. The movies, in particular, offer eerie representations of what happens when human desires reign and a pitchforked, latex wearing red thing wields destruction and demise. In almost every religious expression, we see a representation of evil at work in the world, but in the faith that is rooted in Biblical texts, there is a figure that carries many names (Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, the Antichrist, Father of Lies, Satan) and has one purpose – destruction.

Recently, I have been watching National Geographic’s The Story of God with Morgan Freeman. This fascinating look at all aspects of faith and religious practice has been a wonderful trip around the world to explore the way that people connect with the Divine. The first episode of season 3 is called “Search for the Devil.” In this episode, we are introduced to many expressions of perceived evil. While the different understandings and approaches to the existence of evil is intellectually fascinating, I find it important to note that there is a universal stream of belief that flows through most religious traditions. Almost without exception, there is a base agreement that there exists in the universe a presence that divides. I often wonder if my attempt to quantify and define the presence of the forces against, have pushed me to once again build a box of “understanding” that fits. The more I explore the “why’s” and “how’s” of my faith life, the more insufficient these boxes feel.

Like many belief structures of the Christian faith, it is fascinating to me the ways that different periods in history had vastly different views the devil. While many people who study the Bible would trace evil to the serpent in the Garden in Genesis, there is actually no mention of the devil in the creation narrative. Interestingly, the Hebrew word that is later translated as devil or Satan, was used to describe the human oppositions to the prophetic work of the Spirit of God in the Old Testament. In the direct translation of the Hebrew, the same word is “the adversary.”

While we can spend an enormous about of energy dissecting and challenging the way the Church has defined evil in the past, I wonder if a more valuable conversation is rooted in our experience of division. If the roots of “evil” and the “devil” are in separation and destruction, we know about those things. We don’t need to define them because we see and feel them every day. There is no doubt in my mind that you and I both know evil: cancer cells dividing to kill, the bullet that flies through an English classroom, the fist that lands on the cheek of a child as a drunk parent rages, the trauma of rape, the bottle of pills that is a siren in the mind of a suicidal teen. These are images that define the desperate and powerful work of adversarial force.

We live in a world that is saturated with a power hungry hierarchal pyramid of inequality and hate. We continually make excuses for the ways that we (YOU and ME) are outside of this norm, and yet each and every one of us are perpetuators of the very divisive nature that scriptures and mystics and shamans and elders teach others to caution. The more I study the devil and the power of evil, the less I care about the definition or the “correct” theological wrapping paper. What I know is that the elements of separation (the very context of evil) are all around, many in ways that we would like to ignore and minimize. What if rather than worrying about the reality of the horns or the talons of the creature, we acknowledged in our spirit that we look evil in the eye everyday – in others and more importantly in ourselves. The only way that I know to drown the voices of hate and division and lies is to first recognize them and call them out, and secondly to breathe (remember our conversation on this subject?) love and healing all over those wounds.

What If: Science Has More Answers than God?

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When I first saw this question pop up on my screen, I immediately thought, well it does. And then I thought about what I just “said.” That’s how these questions become the What If’s, especially for those of us that have the pre-programmed right answer. You know the one that makes you smart and sure and FAITHFUL? That’s the dangerous ledge that I find myself on when I hear questions like this one. I cannot count the number of times that I have been asked a question and my gut, my inner knower, knew the answer that should come out of my mouth, but instead the years of being taught how to answer a question demanded that my lips move in a different direction. So for the record, science DOES have more answers than God.

Here’s why: Science is factual. Science has provable data with clear right and wrong answers. Science produces the same results for every person. Faith, God, humanity’s connection to the Divine…well that is far from scientific. Rarely is it even quantifiable. And even when the moments of measurements are experienced by more than one person, the internal journey to process and bring meaning to the experiences varies as vastly as the hair color of humanity.

For many years, my belief system taught me that the answers to the things of faith were equally as precise. My religious system prided itself on the answers. Those that studied and attained and read and got letters behind and in front of their names were capable of offering the masses the clarity of answers to all of the questions. There were books and courses and studies to learn. There were words to memorize and songs to sing. When committed to pursuing the truth in black and white, you could find it. This all worked so well for me until the first time that I allowed myself to think about the answers that I so easily spouted. As I began to question and think about the reflexive responses, I began to cringe. I wish I could tell you that the answers in the Divine realm were clear. There are clear experiences. People can report their own journey. Others can tell stories that are factual in their own soul. But the majority of understanding and experiencing God comes down to a tricky little thing called faith.

Faith requires us to listen and question and think and process. The things of God are felt and experienced and nuanced and extraordinary and tender. These words make for a full life experience, but they do not reflect an acurate or even factual measuring of answers. At least not in the way that people who are willing to ask this question usually mean. If, from a place of sincere question and searching, this question is posed to a spiritually “smart” person, the attempt is to tap down the doubt and give the sure-fire Sunday School answer. I’ve spouted it off with great conviction on many an occasion. But if instead, if the questioned one listens to the heart behind the question, we see the seeker longs for truth. The most honest answer is to admit that by all worldly standards, science will always have more answers. But what if clear answers are not the end game? Connection and holistic beauty are the ultimate answer, but they won’t be measurable in a graph. Here’s to a soul journey that empowers the imagination and wonder and leaves behind the measurable success.

What If: Prayer Doesn’t Matter?

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My relationship with prayer is complicated. I grew up believing that prayer was a way of wish listing my needs and wants to persuade God to intervene and fix my life and the life of those that I love. I learned to pray using words that I didn’t normally use in every day conversations like “come before you” “burdened” “beseech” and “traveling mercies.” I listened very closely as the really Godly people in my life prayed, and I modeled my prayers after them. They all sounded so very spiritual, so I thought that prayer would be somehow more successful or fulfilling if I could learn how to pray RIGHT.

Praying in front of people was something that came naturally to me. I perfected a prayer ‘voice’ that made me sound like some kind of wise pray-er. I would lead congregational prayer time and people would come up to me in great affirmation of the words that had “touched their soul” that Sunday morning. They would ask me to pray “over” them for healing and peace, and I would gladly oblige. All of this only furthered my internal belief that I somehow mastered prayer.

This all works great until it does not. Until the day that your own life falls apart and you have no ability, much less desire to pray. As long as things were following the very conformable pattern of: live…hit a hard life issue…use the prayer words…things get better…praise the Lord…

But when you pray like you have been taught and suddenly you don’t experience the religious “feeling” then what? This was certainly the case in April of 2007. I was newly sober and the people that I went to for help in my darkest hour told me that my condition was a spiritual one. On one of my very raw days, I went to a meeting that I often attended. I was scared and angry and people kept talking about things like ‘let go and let God.’ It was all I could handle. I’m not sure if I had ever spoken in this meeting before, but they heard my voice that day. Through some colorful language and fierce passion, I explained to them that I knew a thing or two about God. What did they know that I did not?

You see, I went to school for Jesus-y things, my career was in the church, I was certain that I was far more qualified for the God conversations than this group. It was clear in my mind that if God could have saved me, I would not have ended up in these damp, dingy rooms with a pounding head and a broken soul. After I threw my public fit, NO ONE EVEN FLINCHED.

They let my pain hang in the air and one of my favorite men in the room said in his rough voice, “We’re glad you are here. Keep comin’ back.” That was it. No one tried to fix me. No one told me I was doing anything wrong. I didn’t get shamed. And most importantly for me that day, no one said, “Oh, honey, I’ll pray for you…”

It was in working the 12 steps that I realized that my understanding of prayer would never work for me again. I needed a bigger, more complex and simple and beautifully wonderful space to be still. Prayer had to change or I was sure that I would not pray again. No longer would I ask God to “fix things.” Instead, my prayers became space for me to align my heart to the heart of God. This shift is beautifully explained in a book we in recovery call the 12 and 12.

“It is when we try to make our will conform with God’s that we begin to use it rightly. To all of us, this was a most wonderful revelation. Our whole trouble had been the mis-use of willpower. We had tried to bombard our problems with it instead of attempting to bring it into agreement with God’s intention for us.” – The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions pg 40-41

So, for me ‘What if prayer doesn’t matter?‘ is not the best question for this subject. Rather, I go back to ‘What if authentic encounters with God require me to redefine prayer?‘ Because as I have opened myself to the reality of a more gracious and less boundaried experience of spiritual conversation, I have realized that my language, rather than my participation was the stumbling block. We all pray. With our very breath, we are taking in the life-giving energy that our body needs to thrive. Our intake of oxygen, whether recognized or not, is an act of inviting Spirit into our continued existence. We are praying as we breathe. The language and tone and voice and words merely complicate the delicate conversation you have been exchanging with the Creator since the moment that your sustained life was separated from your birth mother. I believe each breath is a prayer. And your “prayer life” started the moment that you first oxygenated the cells in your body.

So what if, just for today, you sit with your holy prayers of breath? Listen to the connection of your lungs filling, and as you do, imagine taking in with your inhale the very presence that longs to come alive in your soul. With each exhale, may you return back to the Universe anything that does not assist in aligning your spirit with God. That’s all prayer is. Sure, we can use words, but in our very basic life form we are praying creatures. May we realize that just as our breath gives us life, so does our connection to the heart of the Creator.

What If: We Live Into Our True Self and We Lose People We Love in the Process?

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Ouch. This one hurts. Not because it might happen, but because it has. It does. It will. I don’t feel like I have great certainty on many things in this life (isn’t that just a kick in shins – the older I get the less I know – what is this?), but I know this one thing to be true. When we own our truth, when we live with clarity and purpose, there WILL be people that don’t like it. Not because they don’t like us, but because honesty and truth tell the fake and empty world to get lost. Being who you were created to be, who you are at your creation core, flies in the face of society that wants easy, low key sameness. Authenticity is threatening. Truth is convicting. Especially to those that are not comfortable with honesty.

When I first faced the reality that I was an alcoholic and addict, just saying those words out loud was gut wrenching. I knew it to be my truth. I knew that the chaos that I was making in the midst of binge drinking and crushing pills was ruining my relationships and my soul, but others did not. I can remember sitting over meals with friends telling them that I was in treatment and later as I made amends. I would summon the courage to tell the truth about my actions and behavior and often, more times than not, it went back to them.

“If you are an alcoholic, I can’t even image what you think of me.”

“If you think that story is bad, what about the time _____”

When we shine the light on our own truth, others have a choice. They can chose to look inward and search for the truth of their own life, or they can run. This single defining moment, even when not recognized as such, shapes relationships forever. To be fair, the journey of opening to truth is not instantaneous. For some, there is a time of observing truth telling that opens the possibility that honesty is freeing. In watching the inner work and acceptance grow in other people’s lives, they are willing to live into a way of life that changes things. But, there is always a moment. The moment when your inner voice says, “What if I really freed myself from the expectations of the masses and honored the only voice that matters, my own?”

This transformational question is a gift. It’s a beautiful, scary, glorious, terrifying gift that quiets the rules and expectations of family and religion and culture. For most of us, these weighty bags have defined careers and relationships and behaviors. They have shaped parenting and marriage and friendship in ways that we can’t even articulate. The ‘should’s’ and ‘we’ve always done it that way’s’ and the ‘but that’s not normal’s’ have prevented us from owning and loving things about ourselves in the name of loss prevention. The fear of disappointing a parent, pastor or friend has prevented us from claiming the very things that make us who we are.

Because I believe in practicing what I preach, I need to be honest with you. I have allowed this single “What if” to drive my adult life in ways that I am terrified to admit. Sure, I have lived 90% of my truth in some very public forums. I have talked about things that many wish that I would keep to myself. As a good southern woman, I have deeply embedded the lie that there is no need to invite the neighborhood to see my girdle and pantyhose on the clothes line – keep those things in the privacy of your own bathroom. Many of my public stories probably cause both of my lovely, proper grandmothers to clutch their pearls as they roll over in their graves. I know.

But that 10%, that remaining hidden (or at least purposely avoided) portion is terrifying to admit. I love a good shocking conversation. I love to throw a bomb in the middle of the room in the form of disagreement or unpopular opinion, but that’s not what we are talking about here. The hidden part is not the getting a tattoo to be different or to piss off your parents. The hidden part, the real and vulnerable part, is telling the people that love you that your tattoo is more than a middle finger in the face of traditionalism, it is actually marking the place on your body that was violated or the area that you cut because you just needed to feel. The 10% is the truth- the honest, humiliating, no-holds-barred truth- that shapes your being and honors all of you. But this truth is brutal. It allows others to see and know the pain. And for people like me, pain avoidance is priority #1 on most days. Pain numbing is my first instinct. To go to the 10% place is to choose an uncomfortable and unfamiliar road. One that could cost me relationships, not because of me, but because seeing me telling my truth calls out their truth. And much like the courtroom scene with a fiery Jack Nickolson as the mouthpiece, “You can’t handle the truth” is real. The loss of people comes not from a rejection of my truth, but a denial of their own.

So if you want to get real, get ready. People will walk away. People that don’t walk may pull away. It happened, it is happening and it will happen again tomorrow. But, before we conclude this conversation, I have one final thought. Real truth is transformational. Sometimes coming to terms with our truth is not just accepting, but embracing that the people that we love don’t have the capacity to love our truth. The only version of love that they are capable of loving is the facade. And yes, this will require the relationship to change. From all human perspective it will require loss and death in relationships. But what if, as we live into truth, as they see that our truth only creates a more loving and capable and whole human being, they open themselves to a new dimension of growth? Our truth telling, though it feels like loss, is often the death that is required for resurrection to take place.

What If: I Never Tear Down My Walls?

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I didn’t want to read this question. When I saw it on my screen, I wanted to push right past it and hope that the person who asked it never noticed that I avoided it like the big elephant in the room that it is. All joking aside, was this a plant question that was lobbed up to make me face this very real fear? I have some big ass walls, can you tell?

Walls. I am a master wall builder. In the beginning, they were constructed to self protect, as most good walls tend to be. But there was a shift in my teen years. Walls became a coping mechanism, a safe haven, from the messiness of emotions that I enjoy avoiding at all cost. As time has passed and the situations of life have become more intense and real, my wall building skill has made me a master craftswoman. I can slap a wall in your face before you see it coming. My ability to not just protect, but destroy with a wall is second nature.

So, to face this question is terrifying. I know what it takes to tear down a wall. Honesty. Vulnerability. Bravery. Risk. There are the four pillars of fear for an Enneagram 8. If you know anything about people like me, we are powerful beings. We hate to be controlled (by other people or by life circumstances). We are super strong willed and one of our greatest challenges is lowering our defenses (WALLS) in intimate relationships. Anything that makes me question trust is more than a trigger – it is gasoline on a fire that is sure to burn you. I know these things about myself. I know that these things trigger all the triggers, especially with the people that I choose to let behind the curtain.

Most days, I do a mighty fine job creating the perfect Emerald City that I want the world to see. The public imagery is ideal. It is shiny and pretty and has all of the happy, clappy dancing people to distract from the chaos of the fake voice and lever wielding fraud that works so hard to present the picture of perfection. I can do it all, be it all, save it all and most of all orchestrate it all. I CAN DO IT. (I may have come out of the womb with those words bursting forth from my mouth.) And, for the most part, I can. Until I can’t. And when those moments happen…when I can’t control and have power over and fix and heal…well, then my very first line of defense is a big fat wall that is tall enough to keep you and all of your flying monkeys away from me.

Life and its treachery are hard enough for those of us who love a wall, but relationships are hard in an entirely new way. My relationship walls are the hardest to demolish, and with that in mind, I have to be very honest. There are very few people that I have ever let inside the walls. As much as I try. As much as I work. As much as I want with all of my being to let you see the real me, my walls are often constructed because there have been unsafe people that I have learned to keep at bay. I need to be clear. Healthy walls are not walls. They are boundaries. And, boundaries are good and necessary and worthy. Boundaries should be honored and respected and loved.

Walls are the defense tactics and they are different. Walls require us to dig deep into the well of past wounds and in safe and worthy spaces, place ourselves in opportunities for growth. Be it risking a new job, relationship, conversation or adventure, the ability to scale a wall is dangerous. Every time we look at a wall that needs to be removed and begin pick axing the bricks that are falsely protecting our scared selves, we are brave. With each act of honesty and truth, we not only remove the cold stone of the wall, but we free ourselves from the lie that the fake front is actual protection.

One final thought about walls: they are tricky. I have enough wall experience to know that they have a way of reincarnating themselves in new forms. Just about the time that I think I have found distance from a wall, I am reminded that the wounds that often cause walls are never completely gone. My biggest walls are up because I have be injured in ways that still cause me to scream in pain. No matter how much good interior work I do on these wounds, even when they have been cleaned out, treated, medicated and stitched up, they often leave scars. On this scar tissue, walls tend to multiply like mushrooms on a spring lawn. Our job is to have the mindfulness to know that the scar is there; to not fight the scar (we survived, damnit!). We can see the scar and even recognize the bricks and stones that easily find their way to these tender places, and at the same time, call these moments for what they are. When we are brought back to the places where blood was spilled in the hard seasons of life, we are invited to welcome the treasured few that know the real truth of our lives to help us guard these vulnerable places from hate and anxiety and fear. Because it is in those moments that walls can exist and yet not define. For me, today, that is enough.

What If: God

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I’ve tried to write this “what if” question in every imaginable form and nothing seems sufficient. My ramblings range from questions of existence to doubts about context, explanations and religious framings. More than anything, I want you to know that I’m not afraid of the biggies in this journey. If we are going to ask the questions, I think we need to start with the BIG question.

What happens when we begin to doubt and reframe and disagree and leave behind and embrace the things that formationaly define the Creator? This is scary territory. And for those of us that walk into these conversations with heavy baggage (which is most of us, right?) we spend equal parts our our energy defending our past or preconceived beliefs and fighting to give shape and open minded wonder to the ‘what if.’ It is from this seesaw battle of the mind that I come with a deep desire to set aside the things.

I recently attended a 12-step meeting that used a prayer that I had never heard before.

God, Please help me set aside everything I think I know about myself, my disease, the 12 steps, and especially You; So I may have an open mind and a new experience of all these things. Please let me see the truth.

This prayer is known as the Set Aside prayer. The roots of this prayer come from the chapter called “To the Agnostics” in the AA Big Book. This important section of the book is dedicated to those who come into the program without a concept or even willingness to consider a power that is bigger than themselves and more importantly their addiction. This prayer was exactly what I needed on that day and many days since. I have reached (again) a season of life where I cannot deny the presence of a wonderfully mysterious Divine power. But I am more sure than ever before that my human attempts to define, name, gender type, quantify and contain are insufficient. Often the language of humanity fails at explaining, and seems hopelessly empty in light of, the very real experiences that I have had with this unexplainable force. These unworldly experiences have propelled my heart to love in ways that are bigger than my humanity allows. Thats how I know it is not of my own making.

If there is one thing that this season of imposed down time has given each of us, it is an unplanned journey of slowing. I have had many recent experiences that remind me that we are all grasping for the things that we know. The times that I think I know God in a way that is sure, I miss the entire point. To engage and approach and interact with the Creator is to intentionally invite the unknown into our experience.

So for me, today, the question is: What if our experience of God is bigger than religion and language can articulate? And to that, I can say, “YEP!” I’m taking off the reigns of certainty, and trading them in for the deep, longing, searching, fear excluding, shame expelling gift of setting aside what I have known for the willingness to learn what the Divine still has to teach me.

To those that don’t even know where to start with this one, may I offer an invitation? I wonder if the unframed nature of mystery is one of the scariest parts of this quest. What if I do it wrong? What if this thing that I want to believe in is actually a lie? I get this. I really get this. In light of that, is there one thing that you CAN believe in? The love you have for your child? The moment that you felt loved for the first time? The deep desire to know and be known?

What if these are the very things that gift you connection to the inner gift of the holy. We over-complicate God. But you already know divine truth in your most quiet self. That moment, you know it already, when the friendship soars, the truth is finally said, the pain is admitted out loud. These are sacred moments. In those unexplainable seconds, you are experiencing the presence of something far more powerful than our human capabilities can manufacture. ‘What if’ changes nothing and everything all at the same time.