Luke: Step Three
Luke walked away from church decades ago and identifies as an atheist, though some of his friends are still engaged in spirituality and attend progressive churches. Luke’s life includes wonder for nature, meaningful relationships, awe-inspiring music, and a deep love for his mother and piano teacher.
Should Luke want to deepen his sense of spirituality, here are three ways that Luke can move forward in faith that honors his past and incorporates all he has learned.
Luke walked away from church decades ago and identifies as an atheist, though some of his friends are still engaged in spirituality and attend progressive churches. Luke’s life includes wonder for nature, meaningful relationships, awe-inspiring music, and a deep love for his mother and piano teacher.
Should Luke want to deepen his sense of spirituality, here are three ways that Luke can move faith forward that honors his past and incorporates all he has learned.
Lean into transcendence and mystery as the antidote to immature spirituality.
In Luke’s twenties, he would spend hours in the upstairs chapel, praying he wouldn’t be gay. But most of all, underneath those prayers, he was praying that the contradictions would dissolve and he could be someone who understood and believed. He almost envied the people around him who seemed comfortable with the contradictions, though also living in suspicion of anyone who didn’t want to scream whenever a judgemental person spoke about the grace of God as for everyone.
The decades Luke spent in cognitive dissonance have led to his great distaste and low patience for hypocrisy in the religious world. Understandably, he developed a low threshold for Christian superiority and exclusivity after he spent years praying to a God in which he didn’t believe.
As Luke moves forward, I wonder what it would look like to explore spirituality that feels like transcendence (realities beyond what we can see with our eyes) and intellectual humility (we don’t have all the answers). Doubts from his childhood were born from Luke’s instincts that distrusted the religious authority figures from childhood. While mystery includes doubts, spirituality as mystery is more about allowing all the space for questions that need no answers.
What if Luke started to see faith as moments of transcendence in music (how piano keys can unite a whole crowd into one song) or friendship (how good questions shared among friends can help us feel less alone in the world)? One need not credit the moments to “God” for them to be holy nonetheless, as they are experiences that break apart life’s monotony with a unique, otherworldly kind of beauty.
Luke does not need to understand everything, as he once yearned to do as a child, since that instinct is likely a survival one attached to survival and social belonging. Adulthood requires enduring through moments when not everything adds up. Spirituality lives at the threshold where our curiosity meets its limits and asks questions of the great mysteries. How could such beauty come from such a painful experience? How come the right song seems to change the very molecular makeup of our bodies? None of it makes sense, yet making sense becomes no longer the goal.
Compassion for all those still in the system.
While Luke is no longer in church, he still regularly interacts with people of faith, such as neighbors or family members, and he does not begrudge their faith. He knows life is complicated, and people need everything they can to make it through. Celebrating that we each get to make different choices is liberating after all those years spent living within the strict bounds of Baptist life.
Luke’s story feels unique when he talks of how his Christian college offered him refuge and relief during his early adulthood when he was not ready to emerge as a gay man, knowing it would cost him his life, livelihood, and community. His Bible college, where he could have a girlfriend without engaging in intimacy, gave him space to breathe momentarily and gain some skills before he would have to venture out into the great unknown.
What would it look like for Luke to support closeted gay men who are biding their time and gaining strength before they make the giant leap away from their faith tradition that requires that they hide parts of themselves? Where are underground systems of support for those within the system provided by those who have survived the leaving and can speak about how good life can be on the other side? Luke is uniquely equipped to offer compassion for those still closeted, knowing that there are seasons where going with the flow is required so that you can build up the strength to swim against the tide. He also knows that closeted young men may not even be able to imagine a life other than what they see on TV or in movies. Luke and his friends could find ways to help build connections that offer hope by living as examples of what is possible when the time comes to move into freedom.
Develop a language of “faith” to share with his mother as an act of love.
When Luke came out to his mother, he was amazed at how well she handled it. He knew it was hard for her, especially as she couldn’t figure out how “hate the sin, love the sinner” could even come close to her deep love and affection for her son. He didn’t want her to struggle by knowing that he no longer believed in the Christian God that occupied the center of her life, so he has never let her know that he’s quit church and given up believing in God. He knew that the word “atheist” would be more than she could handle. Being gay was one thing, but being outside of faith was a whole other thing entirely.
Knowing that keeping his non-religious life a secret from his mother requires emotional energy, I wonder what it would look like to develop his way of describing his spiritual life in a way that could be common ground with his mother. Is there a kind of “faith” that could be common ground with his mother, even if it looks different than his mother’s faith? Who “God” is for his mother may never be who “God” is for Luke. Yet, at its best, faith is an amalgamation of a lifetime of experiences, feelings, and questions that point us toward the meaning of life, the beauty of the world, and the power of deep relationships. She may have one idea of the future that is different from his own, but they likely can bond over the same hope: of a day when there are no tears, no hatred, only love.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)
Luke: Step Two
Eventually, Luke developed passion and purpose in his life through music, but he first had to exist in the world in which he was raised. Luke had to accept the rules of the adults around him, as is every child’s task. Living as a closeted gay man required making his intellectual curiosity private and learning to abide by the (male) deacons’ rules.
Here are some of the beliefs that Luke, as a child, had to believe in order to survive within the system. These beliefs he later shed as an adult when his eyes opened to a world where he could have community, offer his gifts to the world, and live honestly and authentically.
Throughout Luke’s years in church, certain beliefs allowed him to grow and move forward despite the system built to control him. Here are three foundational beliefs that served as life rafts for Luke as he grew courageous enough to swim against the tide when the time came.
Church music saves lives.
There was one saving grace at that church: the music. Luke loved the music and was elated at 12 to begin playing the piano and organ for worship. Listening to Luke speak about his life, I couldn’t help but think of Shiprah and Puah, two Hebrew midwives from the first chapter of Exodus, who defied the pharaoh's order to kill all the boys birthed by the Hebrew women to control the population and cement his power. Instead of following orders, Shiprah and Puah helped the mothers labor in secret and then told the pharaoh that the women had given birth before they could get there to assist. Shiprah and Puah worked in the system, saving lives and allowing mothers and young boys to live and grow outside of the eyes of the oppressive system.
Luke’s piano teacher was like Shiprah and Puah, helping Luke discover joy and purpose until he reached the point when he could be public about his true self. From Luke’s early teen years, music offered safety and escape from the toxic conflict and masculinity that sought power over everyone. His joy while playing the piano was unmatched, creating a holy space that made all the other challenges bearable and worth enduring.
Church music programs offer a space for people who are closeted (whether because they hide sexuality, doubt, or whatever quality the church has deemed inappropriate or wrong) to find their voice, build deep bonds of friendship, and grow spiritually.
Find the people who love your questions.
As a child, Luke was a natural observer, observing the wide gap between adults’ words and actions. The intellectually lazy preacher and deacons who ran the church acted like they had all the answers while regularly seeming clueless about what to do. They often shut down questions, showing their cards that while they were faithful, they were also ignorant of how to approach complexity in faith.
Yet the women in his life knew to create space, even in an oppressive system, for children to feel free and loved. They knew that learning was an asset and skill for their future rather than a threat, as the men suggested. Once he left the Christian world, Luke surrounded himself with people who value open-ended questions over drinks with nothing to do but wonder together.
Intuition is your most significant and most disruptive asset.
Luke may have swam with the tide as a young person, but his inner voice is prominent as he retells his growing up in churches. He knew early on that things were not right, his mind unable to reconcile the glaring contradictions surrounding him. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he used to sense. “This isn’t my place.”
Luke moved through the years feeling unsettled and uncertain, and yet he looks back at his decades in the church and does not feel bitterness or live with regrets. He knew there was no choice to not exist in that system until the time came to walk into something different. His inner voice helped him process his body's discomfort and prepare him for the spiritual fortitude to value his freedom enough to leave. By the time he changed his religious affiliation, his intuition had prepared him to be confident in his decision despite the disruption it would cause in his friend group and career.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)
Luke: Step One
Eventually, Luke developed passion and purpose in his life through music, but he first had to exist in the world in which he was raised. Luke had to accept the rules of the adults around him, as is every child’s task. Living as a closeted gay man required making his intellectual curiosity private and learning to abide by the (male) deacons’ rules.
Here are some of the beliefs that Luke, as a child, had to believe in order to survive within the system. These beliefs he later shed as an adult when his eyes opened to a world where he could have community, offer his gifts to the world, and live honestly and authentically.
Eventually, Luke developed passion and purpose in his life through music, but he first had to exist in the world in which he was raised. Luke had to accept the rules of the adults around him, as is every child’s task. Living as a closeted gay man required making his intellectual curiosity private and learning to abide by the (male) deacons’ rules.
Here are some of the beliefs that Luke, as a child, had to believe in order to survive within the system. These beliefs he later shed as an adult when his eyes opened to a world where he could have community, offer his gifts to the world, and live honestly and authentically.
To have the life you want, you’ve got to swim with the tide.
At 18, leaving the small farming community felt like a life-saving move. With a passion for church music and no interest in taking over the family farm, Bible college and seminary seemed the next logical step.
Luke had known for a while that he was attracted to other boys. Still, he never entertained any notion during those years about coming out to anyone or pursuing a same-sex romantic relationship, as he couldn’t envision a world in which that was possible. Luke found that dating girls was the most apparent choice during those young adult years. It was a survival strategy that allowed him to fit in and go with the flow. Since purity rules meant you couldn’t hold hands or kiss or anything else, Luke was able to have a close girlfriend without the pressure of intimacy.
Living closeted didn’t drive him crazy because he was so grateful for the chance to participate in church music. “It was great 90% of the time,” he told me. Luke even looks back with relief as he knows that he missed the height of the AIDS epidemic as he lived a quiet life in the Baptist world.
There are limits to what a young person can dream when they’ve never seen it as an option. Swimming with the tide, which meant denying whole sections of himself and living in secrecy, felt like the only way to stay connected with friends through church music.
Men are in charge, and that’s just the way it is.
Luke couldn’t ever understand how the men who were in charge (something they wanted you to know) didn’t have the skills to understand what they were doing; nevertheless, to do it well. They were not very smart or friendly to stand as pastoral authorities and ministerial leaders. Such aggressive displays of power in the name of Jesus led to countless church splits throughout his teenage years. The steady presence of the church seemed reflected most in the incompetence of the men who led it.
His piano teacher was so kind, allowing him to share his ideas and thoughts. She was brilliant, willing to answer all his questions when they chatted after the piano lesson. His piano teacher also taught the high school Bible study until the men stepped in to stop her. She had launched a new series at the request of the youth to learn about other religions, but the men were terrified of how such an opening of minds might lead to sinning. The men took over the class and re-centered the lesson on Jesus. Luke lamented the injustice of shutting down this brilliant woman, causing him to cherish his piano lessons even more.
But there was only so much that Luke could do. His father no longer attended church, and his mother and piano teacher told him he had to accept how the world worked. Swimming with the tide was the only way to stay afloat, which meant obeying the men and their rules.
There is no world outside the one you’re in.
Luke quit seminary when he realized he could work at the church without a degree, though his time on ministerial staff didn’t last. The conflict and turnover in the local church proved to be more exhausting and soul-draining than joyful. Besides, he was beginning to realize that he couldn’t hide his sexuality forever. Growing up, Luke had never seen, nor could he imagine, a community of openly gay people who participated in society and lived in harmony with neighbors.
When a friend invited Luke to serve as the piano accompanist for the tiny community theater, Luke’s world expanded at lightning speed. Musical theater became where his love for music could land, though he had to endure some awkward initial years as his new peers exposed how naive he was about the world. Attending a gay bar with some friends from the theater, Luke looked down the bar to see three guys from seminary sitting together, sharing a drink. The three men locked eyes with Luke, and all parties immediately looked away. Luke felt mortified and vowed not to say a thing.
Luke reflected on that moment years later as he wondered about the other life he would have lived if he had chosen to stay in church ministry as a closeted man. Back then, he assumed there was only one world in which you could live - the world defined by the church. The church controlled your friend group, career, reputation, and value.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)
Luke: Background
Along the way, Luke struggled with the deep contradictions he saw in Christians: people obsessed with personal power instead of love, social order rather than acceptance, and a deep fear of the outside world, not to mention the contradictions he felt as a closeted gay man serving in a Southern Baptist church.
Luke was always an excellent student, observing the world around him with curiosity from an early age. Attending his family’s Midwest Baptist church, Luke loved to ask questions in Bible Study, though he rarely remembers it going well. Some female teachers took him seriously, offering answers or at least a companion in wondering. Though, there were some exceptions.
One of his earliest church memories is when a visiting teacher explained all about missionaries in foreign countries who go to villages where no one had ever heard the gospel to tell them the good news of Jesus’ salvation. He asked, “What about other people who don’t have church? Do they go to hell?” The teacher answered emphatically, “Yes,” and the class moved on.
Later that night, he told his mom all about it through tears. “I don’t know who this God is, but I don’t like him.” He remembers his mom’s embrace as she assured him, “God has a plan for everyone. You don’t need to worry about them.” The interaction stuck in his memory as a mix of solace and confusion. If they didn’t have to believe everything the preacher said, then why did they have to go in the first place?
When Luke, still a child, moved to a farming community for the family to take over the care of his grandparents’ land, their new church was small and regularly contentious. “I just don’t get it,” he told his mom. “Why are people so mean?” Luke’s dad stopped going, yet his siblings still had to go with his mom whenever the doors were open.
Luke’s life forever changed in that tiny church when he met his future piano teacher, the wife of a retired minister, whose loving attention taught Luke both how to make music and how to have good, meaningful conversations. While lessons were supposed to be only a half hour, Luke would sit at the piano bench with her, pouring out all his thoughts and questions for over an hour.
After graduating high school, Luke was exhausted of ministers and deacons but deeply loved church music. He went on to Bible college and seminary to pursue work as a music minister. Along the way, he struggled with the deep contradictions he saw in Christians: people obsessed with personal power instead of love, social order rather than acceptance, and a deep fear of the outside world, not to mention the contradictions he felt as a closeted gay man serving in a Southern Baptist church.
One summer, when Luke toured the country with a singing group from his Bible college, Luke and his friends stopped at a gas station to fill up the college’s van before heading to the next Christian camp to perform. While pumping gas, a man from the car next to him saw that Luke was with the church group and boldly asked him, “Do you really believe that bullshit?” Luke was stunned because it was as if this man had seen through his charade, exposing his doubt and leaving him embarrased. Was it that obvious to an outsider that they were all fools for propping up an institution that (he agreed) was filled with mean and close-minded people?
He wanted to scream, “No! I don’t!” But such honesty would have meant that he would have to look in the mirror and address the enormous gap between his career plans and the doubts he tried to keep deep within him.
Fast forward decades, Luke looks back and sees his years in music ministry as prioritizing his passion (church music) and trying to stuff down the growing disbelief in the whole system. He left Christianity in his early 30s and hasn’t looked back since, though he still can’t tell his mom that he no longer attends church because he doesn’t want to hurt her. She was tender and supportive when he came out to her as gay, but he knew that coming out as an atheist would break her heart.
This month’s story explores how one man’s piano teacher paved the way for a life of music that eventually spilled out of the church and into the theater world, where he could live in authenticity and freedom. What does moving forward in faith look like when “faith” is the prison from which you escaped?
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions).
Frances: Step Three
With her wealth of knowledge and experience, Frances is capable of being the guiding force in her spiritual life. It’s time for her to step into her authority and lead from the front.
Frances has degrees in higher theological education, received her ordination, and is an expert in her field of pastoral care. She has lived through trauma, grief, heartbreak, and challenges and has counseled countless people to help them know that God is near them when they are in pain.
Frances, with her wealth of knowledge and experience, is more than capable of being the guiding force in her spiritual life. It's time for her to step into her authority and lead from the front rather than relying on others, be it her husband, children, pastors, or supervisors.
Should Frances claim the inner authority God has given her to move through the world as a spiritual and theological leader, here are some transformative spiritual practices that might move her spiritual life forward, inspiring hope and growth.
Frances can publish her manuscript.
Frances has been working on a manuscript about her life for years. She began writing as a therapeutic tool as a young adult, liberating all the grief and vulnerability her family’s code silence had stifled. Over the years, Frances has written chapters articulating all she’s endured and learned. Despite friends’ encouragement to publish her manuscript, she has refrained from doing so because of some complicating factors regarding her husband. She says she doesn’t care whether it ever gets published. She’s unsure she cares enough to do all the work to share it officially. Even so, her husband’s lack of support means he has become another religious authority figure holding Frances back from stepping into her full voice.
Under stress, Frances may repeat the unhealthy secret-keeping patterns she was born into by remaining vigilant about how anything she shares could damage the reputation of others. Publishing her manuscript could trigger the fear that family or friends will abandon her if she tells her truth. However, Frances has found through therapy that she is the authority figure in her story. She can make decisions that prioritize safety, even when relationally complicated.
Frances has reached a point where denying reality is too dangerous to her well-being. No matter what it costs in her relationships with her husband and children, Frances can commit to telling the truth in love as an act of stubborn resilience. Even if she self-published the book and shared it with just her close friends, publishing her life’s story would be a testament to her spiritual vitality, which has endured the soul's darkest nights.
Frances can define spiritual practices as more than church attendance.
In Frances' family of origin, religion was defined by church attendance, with the image of a pew packed with family as the image of faithfulness. She has had a rocky relationship with churches over the past few decades due to church conflicts, overburdened volunteers, and a lingering sense of religious homelessness. After being in and out of church over the past few decades, Frances is no longer attending a church – a matter of which she’s conflicted. Frances is well versed in spirituality outside of the church walls, as is evident from her training and experience, but when speaking of her faith life, the first words on her lips are about whether or not she’s been at church lately.
Frances can find ways to name her spiritual life in other terms to move forward.
Writing can be how she lifts her voice in worship.
Leaning into her civic life in her small town allows her to steward her gifts of time, talent, and treasure.
Spending time with her adult children can be her spiritual community.
Spending time in nature and gardening is a form of ecological spirituality.
Speaking an honest word, especially if it’s difficult, can be a form of gratitude to God for the bravery God has instilled within her through this long journey.
Attending church can add to these spiritual practices but need not define or measure her faith life.
Frances can find refuge in Mother God.
When Frances is stressed, she can still feel like a little girl since she was so young when the abuse began. Even now, at an older age, Frances turns to the people around her to give her the safety, belonging, and purpose that her inner child craves. Maturity invites us to parent ourselves in ways our parents could not. Frances can provide for herself what she needs in ways that the people in her life cannot. France can mother herself, providing for herself what she needs.
After living with a mother whose parented using shame and judgment, Frances can reimagine motherhood by connecting with a maternal image of God. When she finds her mother’s words shaming her and filling her memories, she can think of Mother God, whose voice is filled with compassion. She can reclaim her daughterhood before this Mother God, whose love is tender and protective.
As scripture shows, God is like a mother who takes her children under her wings.
“Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my should takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, until the destroying storms pass by” (Psalm 57:1).
Mother God comforts her people when they are in distress.
“As a mother comforts her child, so I’ll comfort you” (Isaiah 66:13). “Can a woman forget her nursing-child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you” (Isaiah 49:15).
Whenever Frances reads a common prayer, whether at church or elsewhere, she can substitute “Father God” for “Mother God.” When she sings a hymn, she can replace “He” with “She.” These small moments of choosing Mother God are ways she can mother herself, providing a spiritual refuge for that young girl within her who still craves stability, safety, and solace.
She can substitute “Mother God” for “The Lord.”
“Mother God is near to the broken-hearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18).
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)
Frances: Step Two
Amidst the toxic religious setting of her childhood, Frances held some healthy beliefs that carried her through and allowed her to escape, find safety, and heal.
Amidst the toxic religious setting of her childhood, Frances held some healthy beliefs that carried her through and allowed her to escape, find safety, and heal. These beliefs reveal theological threads that connect her past with her present.
Salvation is an internal job.
While her mother worked out her salvation in the public eye, Frances learned how to nurture a spirit of endurance and resilience. In the worst circumstances, she learned how to save herself when the religious authority figures could not offer her safety, belonging, and purpose. External appearances will always matter to Frances in some measure after all she’s endured. Unlike her mother, though, she knows that the health of her internal landscape is the most important thing.
While religious institutions and leaders may have laid out paths for Frances’ salvation, they did not keep her safe. For Frances’ mother, salvation may have been about eternal life, but Frances needed salvation that was safety and freedom in this earthly life. Her father’s abuse, her mother’s silence, and the Catholic church’s blind eye left her vulnerable as a child. Frances did leave the Catholic faith and became a Baptist, but she never felt entirely at home in the Baptist world, either, as Baptists viewed her as an outsider, having been raised Catholic.
Frances had to fight for ordination as a woman, which her Catholic family and her husband’s Baptist family never celebrated or even acknowledged. The world around her debated whether a woman could be ordained while Frances moved forward to offer pastoral care to those who needed it most. As an adult, churches have failed to welcome her pastoral counselor gifts, so Frances has found opportunities for work and ministry outside congregational settings.
Frances does not have to save herself publicly. Her salvation comes from within, where God is birthing resilience that continues to persist decades after her mom kicked her out for breaking the norm by worshiping outside the Catholic faith. Demanding a life of belonging and purpose, she crafts a life she couldn’t have imagined as a child.
Freedom will cost something; it’s worth paying.
All the warnings she received, whether spoken out loud or implied, held some aspect of truth within them: there was no way for Frances to get free from the abusive system without losing something along the way. Freedom was possible, but not without its cost. She packed her belongings and left the house in her 20s, moving into friends’ homes until she could find her footing. She pursued Baptist education on her own, without any family support. Once she had her kids, she raised them without a relationship with her family. She was unable to rely on family support as she navigated the complicated years of mothering young children while working full-time.
Facing the brutal reality of incest in one’s family requires such bravery. It goes against our instincts as children to disobey authority figures, especially when those figures threaten abandonment and condemnation. The adults in her life suggested that her honesty held more potency for damage than her father and brother’s sexual abuse. Frances had to give up the entire relationship with her family to honor her instincts - that the true tragedy is the abuse upon the victim, not possible consequences for the abuser.
A young Frances could not have known how life-saving freedom from the abuse would be, as she couldn’t have imagined another life outside of her family. However, 20-year-old Frances nurtured this belief when she left her family’s house. Holding fast to freedom, even as it costs her something, is essential to Frances’ continued spiritual life.
Honor yourself by doing the hard work for healing.
Throughout Frances’ life story, Frances is the heroine who makes a way while the traditional way crumbles under the weight of its hypocrisy. Her abusers had warned her that the family would fall apart if she spoke up, but she went on to share her history with a therapist and eventually with her close friends. She wrote a letter to her family exposing the abuse and opening the door for some of her siblings to talk with her about their abuse. Yes, the letter led to a strained relationship with her parents, but she had survived and was learning to value her safety above the family's reputation.
Abuse perpetuates itself in cycles, which means that one’s own mental, spiritual, and physical well-being must be taken seriously as a gift to the broader world. Frances has learned how to be compassionate with herself when she thinks of the past. She realizes how hard she fought to survive a childhood outside her control or choice. She will never hear the long-wished-for apologies, nor can she force others to change their behavior or speak the words she longs to hear. While she had some reconciliation with her father before he died, her mother passed without ever hearing a word of regret from her lips.
There is no “why” that has all the power to unlock peace. Peace will come when she has given up waiting for understanding, for no apology can erase what has already happened. The hurt will not go away, nor will the inner strength born of hard work.
Frances has learned to lean into the authority (she is in charge of herself) and agency (she can take action to protect herself) that are innately her own. She has permission and the ability to act, making choices through her intuition rather than looking to institutions or relationships to initiate or approve her choices. To feel fully seen and known, she need not look outside to others. She can see herself for who she is – a survivor, a beloved child of God, a minister of healing called by God to share her story with others who need hope.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)
Frances: Step One
Here are some foundational beliefs that Frances had to abide by to survive in her childhood home. You’ll notice that the beliefs have hints of healthy beliefs within them - but the toxic and traumatizing home environment made them unhealthy for Frances and her siblings.
Here are some foundational beliefs that Frances had to abide by to survive in her childhood home. You’ll notice that the beliefs have hints of healthy beliefs within them - but the toxic and traumatizing home environment made them unhealthy for Frances and her siblings.
Faithfulness is the one way to achieve peace for the family.
Frances' mother’s religious conviction was a binding glue that kept the family together, thinking that silence made sure the darkness within the home never reached the light of day. Her mother believed there was one right way to believe in God - to adhere publicly to Catholic rituals and doctrine. Faithfulness offered belonging to God, the Catholic community, and the family. Faithfulness allowed the family to retain good standing, which grew even more important as her father’s public indiscretions meant her mother had to work even harder to distract the public eye with further acts of family piety.
Frances had no choice but to go along with this one way as a child in a Catholic family and a student in a Catholic school. How could she have even dreamed of a different life when she couldn’t speak to a single soul about the abuse she experienced in the silence? Frances worked to survive in a traumatizing system, which led her to be well-versed in the little lies that held the family together. She was a child learning to live in a world controlled by her parents and observed by her priests.
It’s in public that we work out our salvation.
Perfectly dressed for church, her mother would file the kids out of the house in their best clothes to get to church on time and fill up a pew. Her mother's emphasis on external appearances taught a young Frances that God cared most about what people project to the outside world. To achieve salvation, one must show the church that one is right with God and their neighbors. Maintaining one’s religious reputation requires denying and whitewashing any wrongs or flaws within the family or home.
Internally, Frances' soul and psyche worked overtime to raise red flags within her. Her body and soul cried for help, signaling she couldn’t live forever in this toxic family system. But Frances' very survival demanded that she endure the harmful actions of family members in silence.
Honor your father and mother.
In Frances' world, men were both the ordained leaders of the religious world and the perpetrators of sexual abuse and inappropriate contact. Men’s bad behavior was supposed to be ignored or excused. Addressing the abuse, they warned, would lead to estrangement from the family and condemnation by the church. Frances kept silent for so long because she loved the family.
What control did Frances have as a child in the family’s home once the abuse began? Not only did she have to endure sexual abuse, she lived under her mother’s emotional abuse. Frances' mother parented her children with shame and judgment to keep them within the fold of God’s love. Parenting from fear for their souls, she used shame as a corrective tool she hoped would stop the worst from happening. She perceived that the devil was at work in her family, taunting the children to step outside of “God’s ways,” which would disgrace the child and the family.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions)
Frances: Background
Frances cannot tell her life story without beginning with her mother’s faith. There was no room for imperfection in faith, leaving Frances vulnerable to terrible patterns of secrecy and abuse.
Now a grown adult, Frances still cannot tell her life story without beginning with the shape and form of her mother’s faith, for it profoundly shaped her childhood. The large, happy family at weekend mass was a jewel in her mother’s Catholic crown. Catholic school classes and rituals were nothing compared to her mother’s sense of morals and righteousness. There was no room for imperfection in her mother’s faith, which left Frances vulnerable to terrible patterns of secrecy and abuse as a young girl.
Since the perception of the family mattered most, Frances' mother couldn’t acknowledge and address the sexual abuse Frances experienced at the hands of her father and brother. Her mother had to have known, but her mother never said a word. At confession in the Catholic church, Frances constructed little sins to confess. All the while, she joined her mother in projecting piety during the day and suffered at night. Frances navigated through adolescence with depression and suicidal ideation, knowing that she wasn’t safe at home, but there was no other place she could turn.
Once she was college-age, Frances visited one of her older sisters over a weekend who now lived a few hours away. While with her sister, Frances attended the conservative Baptist church that her sister had recently started attending. When Frances' mother heard Frances' report from the weekend, her mother was furious. All the usual lines poured out of her mother’s mouth: “You should be ashamed of yourself.” “You should know better than that.” Her mother warned Frances that the devil had tricked her into going to a Protestant house of worship.
But the Baptist church intrigued Frances. The next time she visited her sister, she went to worship at the Baptist church again and came home to receive her mother’s ultimatum: “If you’re going to live here, you either go to the Catholic church with us or move out.”
Sexual abuse in the home had not triggered her mother’s passionate religious conviction. Neither was it abstaining from attending church. Instead, it was worshipping in a church outside of the Catholic Church, which her mother could not stomach. Frances' religious longing for a different tradition somehow got her mother to stand up for her faith, slewing out a storm of shame and judgment; all the while, her mother did not speak a word about her father and brother’s misdeeds.
Outside of her parents’ house, Frances began a new life as a young twenty-something: exiled from her family and desperate for healing from the toxic secret-keeping, trauma-denying, and religious perversion of her childhood. Ironically, her mother’s banishment got Frances to a safe place where she could finally start the journey toward healing.
Frances is a profoundly brave woman who has spent the past three decades wading through her grief and heartbreak in therapy. As a pastoral counselor ordained in the Baptist tradition, she dedicated her life to being present to all those suffering in silence.
After years spent in service, Frances wonders what it looks like to move forward with her spiritual life now that her children are grown and have left home. Her history with the church is complicated, and she finds herself in a period of spiritual stagnancy. What does faithfulness look like after she’s survived so much?
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions).
Claire: Step Three
Claire learns to accept what has been, integrate core beliefs, and engage in spiritual practices tailored to her life.
Claire desires reconciliation with her childhood church and renewal of her ministerial calling, but she’s grown skeptical, confused, and depressed. How might Claire grow to accept the heartbreak she’s experienced and continue her faith journey instead of giving it all up?
Here are some ways Claire might declaw past hurts to resurrect her passion and voice in this new season.
Claire can allow herself to grieve.
“Why am I sobbing?” Claire apologizes for her tears as she tells old stories from her times as a youth in church. All the anger that usually keeps her grief at bay dissolves as she describes her childhood love for the church and her early enthusiasm as a minister in training. It is not just that she’s changed her mind. She has altered her orientation, letting go of the wide-eyed optimism and passionate clarity that once defined her personhood. Her current life would look unrecognizable to her former self, running barefoot around the church.
Too often, we assume life changes to be linear. One thing leads to another, with each piece building upon the other until a solid construction is built over time. However, Claire’s experience of her Jenga tower crumbling is what growing up looks like. Learning is a nonlinear process. We gain new knowledge and insight, all while yesterday’s insights come apart when facing today’s challenge. We need to speed up during one season and slow down in another. As Ecclesiastes tells us in its iconic third chapter, there is a season for everything under heaven. “A time to break down, and a time to build up.”
Claire might intellectually already know this to be accurate, but experiencing it is entirely different. Feeling like she is at a dead-end, Claire doesn’t even know how to speak about what happened and how deeply she’s hurting. She wonders if her religious identity is agnostic now (one who believes that there may not be a God; even if there is a God, it doesn’t seem to matter). I wonder how much agnosticism, in this case, is an intellectual way to hide from grief. Speaking up had been so central to her faith and identity. Giving up her voice, now distrustful of any religious language that might come out, feels almost like a form of self-harm.
Paula D’Arcy writes in Winter of the Heart: Finding Your Way through the Mystery of Grief, “Pain must move if it’s to be transformed. If it’s denied or hidden away inside, it affects future choices and the ability of our wound to heal. There must be an open space through which the river of sorrow can flow.”
Belief is more than an intellectual exercise, as Claire has learned in profound, life-altering ways. Yes, Claire went through seminary training where she could articulate faith in different ways. However, the emotional side of her religious transformation needs tending. To move forward, Claire can focus on finding a way for her sorrow to flow, as D’Arcy writes, rather than jumping to another religious label as a way to escape the pain.
Claire may not have felt empowered to name the profound sadness within this change because our culture does not often validate religious loss as grief. In the public square, Claire would feel much more comfortable naming the strides she’s made toward a more inclusive theology. She could talk publicly about all the ways she is happy to have moved on from evangelical faith, but speaking to the parts that she misses might feel like she’s morally complicit in the church’s wrong or disregarding the pain of LGBTQ+ Christians.
Bottling up grief over all that’s been lost (her confidence, worldview, voice, friendships, vocation, and belonging) creates a feeling of being stuck in bitterness and resentment.
Claire can unlock her spirituality so that the young girl in her can run barefoot and free.
What would happen if Claire calls to mind her teenage self, who ran barefoot around the church building, carefree from anxiety and loving life? Teenage Claire felt called by God to become a minister, even if it meant she would have to seek ordination outside her home church. She was bold and confident, ready to speak her faith aloud. She rode that wave of confidence until she grew weary from fighting the good fight against the larger institution of Christianity.
Claire distanced herself from churches and former Christian communities to return to a safe space. For her mental health, this distance has been essential to finding the freedom to sort through complex feelings and disruptive emotions.
If Claire can get to a place where she feels safe within her body, trusting her religious authority to revive her spiritual life, I wonder how Claire might ease up on the pressure she’s felt to get everything figured out. What if the Jenga blocks don’t have to form another tower? She can offer herself compassion instead of judgment whenever she feels nostalgic for how cohesive and solid her faith once felt. She can rebuild her spirituality, even with a broken heart, as she takes time to grieve and relearn how to open herself back up again with vulnerability and courage.
Nurturing new spiritual practices doesn’t have to dictate whether she stays away from church or returns to it. More critical than church affiliation or attendance, Claire can open herself up to love the teenage Claire, who has been locked away because her religious fervor was too valuable to be lost amidst all the deconstruction. When ready, Claire could wrap her arms around that former spirituality she once loved and cherished. She can remember her calling to ministry, weep for all that’s happened, and be open to seeing all that remains within her.
Claire is still the person God created her to be - full of spiritual enthusiasm and called to minister in love to God’s people, living out her mission as Jesus’ hands and feet. The grown-up Claire knows this calling will take a different form than her teenage self envisioned, but she no longer believes there’s only one way to be a Christian or serve in ministry.
Feeling safe and self-assured, Claire’s spiritual life can emerge from its cocoon and slowly blossom into whatever new shape it will take. Claire has learned that she is far more resilient than she knew. Her passion and voice emerge from her faith, which is now portable and can carry her through the changing seasons of life.
Claire can reintroduce herself and rebuild connections with forgiveness and tenderness.
Learning is not just about adjusting pieces of knowledge; learning happens in the transition moments. When we’ve left the known shore for lands far from home, we grow while we navigate the boat. Jesus does not teach growth in such a way that shames the previous versions of ourselves, the beliefs we leave behind. Too often, people show how enlightened they are by shaming people who still believe whatever belief they’ve left behind. In shame-filled spaces, “progressive” Christians create an environment where getting a belief “wrong” will trigger righteous judgment, thereby negating Jesus’ most profound teaching tools of compassion and forgiveness.
As Claire has experienced, faith is not the intellectual pursuit of correct answers. Faith is full-bodied, integrating our minds, hearts, souls, bodies, and communities. Therefore, forgiveness is not erasing or excusing our imperfections. Jesus’ forgiveness is about unleashing us from the expectations we place upon ourselves to have everything figured out and always do the right thing. Forgiveness is the grease in the wheels that allows us to move forward on the learning journey.
We must be gentle with ourselves in transition periods, especially when our whole belief system is under construction. Claire can start by sharing tenderness with herself and forgiving her teenage self for not being able to predict what would come in college. She can identify the good things that came from her passionate work in college, even if it didn’t bear the fruit she assumed it could.
She can re-introduce her adult self to the past versions of herself, speaking courageous and kind words like this: “I have grown so much. My life doesn’t look like it once did, but I’ve gained wisdom and deep friendships even though I’ve had to give up some dreams. I’ve learned that I’m far stronger than I ever knew and that deep sadness can signify that I’ve loved with my whole heart. I don’t know what comes next, but God is with me, which means that even heartbreak can be holy.”
After significant change, it can feel like you have to re-introduce yourself to people who knew you best when you were in a different life stage. One of Claire’s challenges this season is figuring out how to interact with people from her past who only knew her when she was a passionate advocate for evangelical Christianity. It’s almost as if she feels obligated to “come out” to these friends for no longer believing what she once did. She worries about her friends’ reactions to her uncertainty and time away from church. Some friends will appreciate her vulnerability, and their relationships will grow deeper. Other friendships may fade, as those friends are uncomfortable seeing a peer’s Jenga tower fall. Some of those friends might even try to convince Claire to rebuild the tower out of their evangelical zeal. Claire can remember how that fervor once lived in her, and she can respond with tenderness and boundaries.
When the tears come, Claire need not feel confused, for she knows she is grieving. She is learning to let go and to trust that the learning journey is the path to which God has called her. She hopes the adventure will take her somewhere she couldn’t ever have imagined. What amazing things might she do once she has free hands and feels ready to open herself up to the next chapter?
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions).
Claire: Step Two
Claire begins putting words to beliefs that have stood the test of time.
Nestled within Claire’s life story are several beliefs that serve as threads, connecting her childhood love for the church and her fight for its reformation as a young adult. Here are some core beliefs that have carried Claire through life’s challenges.
Questions need not lead to answers; the pursuit is the point.
Claire loved the affirmation of the church, both her home church and Christian college, so she naturally appreciated what got her there—the answers. Claire asked lots of questions, amassing knowledge that helped earn her a reputation amongst the church as a bright and devoted follower of Jesus whom God is calling toward youth ministry.
Rather than focusing on her curiosity, the church praised Claire for knowing the right answers - a tricky thing in Christianity, as doctrine can easily turn into objects that we control. Stacked on top of one another, each piece of doctrine becomes Jenga blocks that build a tower whose height amazes a crowd but cannot stand the winds of change in life.
Each friend who came out to Claire as gay pulled a block from the Jenga tower until the whole structure came tumbling down. With all the blocks scattered, the point of faith (asking questions, seeking wisdom, constructing the building) was thrown into question. What was wrong? The answers? The pastor? Had they been fools all along?
Claire can reframe her learning journey by holding doctrine loosely and committing, instead, to the practice of asking questions. Claire has always shown naturally insatiable curiosity; it is God's fingerprint upon her. Asking questions moves us forward in faith. As children, answers feel foundational and important, but adults learn that answers can be the transition points that lead to better questions. God created Claire with a healthy sense of suspicion, unable to accept answers without first wanting to know the more profound truth behind what’s going on.
If anything, Claire’s journey right now seems to mirror her parents’ journey. Claire can connect with her parents’ story about finding a church when you have to move to a religious tradition different from what you experienced as a child. Claire’s parents were once young adults like herself, unsure of how to move forward and probably feeling mixed emotions about how they couldn’t continue in the religious history of their childhood since they married someone from a different tradition. They were momentarily lost and had to figure out how to move forward, if at all. Claire is her parents’ daughter, and the apple falls not far from the tree. Connecting with this family legacy can offer comfort as she feels displaced and unsure this season. Her parents can assure her that this feeling will pass with time.
I am at home no matter where I go.
Claire’s sense of safety, rest, and renewal at church launched her from childhood into adulthood with a sense of passion, community, and purpose. Ironically, those gifts have led her to distance herself from the people, places, and rituals that once represented home. Like we all do after a major life change, Claire is repeating the tasks of adolescence, re-negotiating her sense of identity, purpose, and meaning, but this time with the awareness of how fragile such foundations can be. Claire has the opportunity to experience this season of religious homelessness as the natural process of growing up and moving out of her church, which has felt like home.
Becoming an adult requires that we differentiate ourselves from our childhood home. We move out and have to develop a whole new life. Home turns from a place (our childhood bedroom) and a people (our parents and siblings) into a way of being (feeling at home in our skin). Claire’s heartbreak over losing her childhood faith resembles growing up and moving out of her parents’ house. She may have longed to be an adult, but realizing that she can never truly go home again can trigger sadness for she’s lost.
Growing up doesn’t require us to break all ties and get rid of everything to move on. Instead, we do the slow work of going through all our stuff to identify what we want to keep and what we no longer need. Claire can cherish the memories of her religious past while letting go of the expectation that they will continue to be her religious home and spiritual center. She can maintain a relationship with people from her childhood church while no longer expecting them to serve in the same role as mentor, guide, and pastor.
Claire knows from her theological education that the church was never meant to be the only place God dwells. God exists in and for and through the world around us. Therefore, that home within Claire is God’s dwelling within her. The more Claire consciously claims God’s abiding with her, the more she can venture out into the unknown, assured of who she is and that she belongs wherever she goes. As time passes, Claire will be able to see that the Jenga tower had been helpful for a season but its structure had always been intended to be temporary. Youth ministry offers teenagers a launchpad into adult spirituality, not a way of being that lasts forever.
Following Jesus means valuing relationships, even when my heart breaks.
Claire’s journey through college and grad school is a coming-of-age story that shows friendships' pivotal role in a young adult’s life. When all the doctrine and theology turned into flesh and bone in relationships, Claire realized how much living out our faith is far easier on paper. The actual living of our lives is a steady stream of new situations we could not have anticipated before they arrived. Yesterday's answers no longer fit when navigating a constant stream of unpredictable situations.
On her own in college, Claire took the beliefs the church handed to her and tried her best to make it all work, even as her friends came out to her about their sexuality. She strived to expand the evangelical tent to include all the folks believed to be outside God’s love. She could imagine a church that welcomes all people because God’s love is inclusive and all-encompassing. But trying to change her Christian college’s stigma toward sexuality was a revolutionary battle one student was unlikely to win within four years.
Claire’s teenage faith built a structure, while her young adult faith dismantled it. Ironically, following Jesus initiated Claire’s identity earthquake, so she’s unsure of where to turn when she’s gone from feeling teenage passion and clarity to tasting heartbreak and exile as an adult. Has she wandered outside of God’s presence? Feeling religiously homeless, untethered to a denomination, and distrustful of religious institutions, Claire wonders whether all the heartbreak is worth it.
Jesus himself felt religiously homeless, untethered to his religious roots, and undoubtedly distrustful of religious institutions (wise on his part, considering what happened on the cross). Even so, Jesus valued relationships, leading with empathy and an open heart. God takes on flesh to disrupt our religious systems, dismantling our answers and doctrine because they turn to us, judging and controlling our lives rather than leading us to Christ’s peace and God’s freedom.
We can forget how God’s presence, as we see in Jesus’ death, doesn’t always bring comfort and security. There are seasons in our adult life when God interrupts our regularly scheduled programming and invites us to live through a disorienting pivot. We might one day tell the story of this change and call it holy, but first, we must endure the heartbreak of what we’ve lost and confusion over where we’re going.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions).
Claire: Step One
Placing Claire’s former beliefs in the context of what was happening when she received them.
Here are some foundational beliefs that used to be central to Claire’s faith but have changed as she’s become a young adult. You’ll notice that these beliefs are not wrong, per se. The beliefs served Claire as a child but no longer fit based on her experiences.
Faith is an intellectual exercise.
Claire loved the church—the people, rituals, and intellectual exercise. Memorizing scripture and attending classes and retreats carried Claire through adolescence, helping her reach adulthood with a healthy dose of confidence and passion. It’s no surprise that she saw faith as an intellectual exercise, considering her church’s approach to confirmation as an exercise in memorizing specific answers that could be stated publicly before the elders.
Claire thrived in confirmation, where she could ask questions, learn, and prove her knowledge. She also got personal time with the pastor, building a relationship of shared conviction, commitment, and, ultimately, calling once she said “yes” to God’s call to ministry. The church’s public affirmation of Claire nurtured her hunger for more biblical knowledge and led her to pursue theology and church history in her academic pursuits.
When new theological questions emerged from the people she met in college, Claire found reason, logic, tradition, and catechism left her stuck and frustrated. Faith as an intellectual exercise didn’t work anymore.
I am the best version of myself when at church.
Adults instilled great confidence in Claire at church, and she thrived under their mentoring. Claire excelled in the religious exams for confirmation and found friends she knew she’d keep forever. She had no idea how comfortable and carefree she felt at church until one of her school friends tagged along one night to youth group. The friend couldn’t stop talking about how strange it was to see Claire running around the church building barefoot. To Claire, that was normal. She felt totally normal at church.
College was an extension of the church. She invested her time and passion in college ministries, taking on leadership positions to ensure the spiritual growth of all students. Even when the theological questions around sexuality emerged, she doubled down on finding a way to make this work.
Over time, listening to her friends share their experiences of feeling left out, shamed, and even banished from the Christian community, Claire began to feel confused at church. Had she been a fool for feeling so comfortable in a place that excluded her friends?
Clarity and passion are signs that you’re close to God.
Claire’s sense of God’s call to youth ministry came from her deep connection to the church and the identity she found in her youth group. Her congregation’s approval and biblical knowledge made Claire feel clear in her Christian identity and passionate about all God would do through her faithful living. Her childhood is filled with memories of times when she showed agency (she could do something for God!) and purpose (God wanted her to use her gifts!). Claire knew she had a voice she could use for good in the world.
The American culture of youth ministry, drawing upon teenage idealism and passion, fanned the flames of Claire’s sense of call to ministry. Youth ministry conferences preach messages about how teenage Christians can change the world as Jesus did through speakers like Shane Claiborne, painting a picture of Jesus’ revolution of holiness and justice.
By the time Claire hit a wall with her Christian college around LGBTQ+ inclusion, her sense of clarity and passion was so strong that she knew God was calling her to make a revolutionary change in the church. She felt close to God as she continued onto seminary, but eventually, she felt weary and discouraged fighting against Christian institutions for what felt like obvious reforms close to Jesus’ heart.
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions).
Claire: Background
Fresh out of graduate school, Claire has her seminary diploma framed on her wall, but she’s feeling confused and even a bit foolish now that she doesn’t believe in God… at least the way she once did. Church has always been the center of Claire’s life. If the doors were open, she would be there with her family.
Her dad grew up Protestant, and her mom’s family was Catholic, which meant they had to get creative when they started their own family. Assuming some perfect Catholic-Protestant blend existed, they compiled a list of each denomination’s highlights and downfalls, weighing them until her mom suggested they visit the church down the street. The neighboring church ended up being a great fit for the family. That tradition placed a high value on education as the church’s primary tool of faith development, with catechism instruction seen as the way to keep one’s life aligned with the teachings of Christ. A naturally enthusiastic and eager learner, Claire thrived in the confirmation process of studying, asking questions, and memorizing scripture and church history. Claire even enjoyed the oral exam before church elders as a chance to share all she had absorbed on the learning journey.
At a high school youth group conference, Claire felt God call her to become a youth minister. She knew she’d have to venture outside of her denomination to pursue ministry, as her church didn’t believe women could be pastors, so Claire set her sights on a Christian college that affirmed women in ministry.
From the moment she stepped onto campus as a freshman, Claire was delighted to be surrounded by other Christians pursuing a holy life. Her spiritual life took a turn within the first few weeks when a dozen new friends shared in private their struggles with their sexuality. Feeling taken aback, Claire couldn’t help but recall all the answers she once offered before the elders about God’s intention for sexuality. In all her catechism training, Claire had learned that God had created sex to be between one man and one woman united in holy matrimony. All other forms of sexual life fell outside of God’s intent for creation, or so she had believed.
Claire reached out to a friend from home, lamenting how she didn’t know how to handle it. Her friend responded with news of his own. He, too, was gay. Here was a friend who she had felt so close to, growing up together in the same church. Why had he not trusted her and shared this news before? If he had confided in her, how would she even have handled it at the time?
Confusion flooded Claire. Yet, here she was on this beautiful campus with the opportunity to grow as a student of Christ, so she leaned into what she knew best from growing up: faith as a learning journey. Surrounded by other young Christians called to ministry, Claire grew adamant that there had to be a way to make this work. She poured her time into campus ministries, leading Q&A sessions with faculty around sexuality to help create some way for gay students to remain faithful to Christ without living in shame or secrecy.
By the time Claire transitioned into seminary, fatigue had set in. All the passion Claire once felt for the church had faded, and her vocational dreams narrowed even more. Yes, she would work for churches, but only if they were outwardly affirming of all people, which she found to be fewer than she had hoped. As school assignments grew, waves of bitterness and cynicism built toward institutional religion.
When COVID hit, Claire grew even more tired as she watched churches disparage public health officials while ignoring George Floyd’s murder. Seminary classes now moved online, leading her to be alone as her learning journey focused on all the ways that scriptural infallibility, white privilege, misogyny, homophobia, and countless other systemic evils create unsafe conditions for vast swaths of people in the church.
Now that she's done with seminary, Claire’s no longer unsure of what she believes. For years, a deep love for the church has guided her actions, formed her identity, and created a strong sense of community. She holds a bachelor’s and graduate degree in theology but distrusts the church more than ever. Church, ironically, is now the last place she wants to be. Even so, her face lights up when she talks about how much she used to love going to church.
Claire felt Jesus was leading her forward all along. How do we make sense of faith development when it seems to lead to dead ends?
Connecting points to put each story in the context of our current day (resources), scripture (lectionary), wise thinkers (worth reading), and your personal story (reflection questions).