Do I Belong?

Belonging. Of all the needs shared by mankind, I believe the need to belong is one of the strongest.

This powerful essential is the foundation on which gangs are formed, friendships are forged, families are created, churches are built, and towns and cities are incorporated. We all desire the security that comes from knowing we are part of a greater whole.

There really is strength in numbers. The opposite is also true—we are weakest when we are alone.

Dale preached a powerful sermon a week or so ago. He pointed out that most churches teach principles for right behavior. Right behavior is a good thing, but it is often taught in the form of a mathematical equation—behavior + believe = belong. If you behave in an acceptable manner and believe as we believe, you get to belong.

Jesus, however, teaches exactly the opposite—Belong + Believe = Behavior. In other words He wants me to know first and foremost that I belong. He hopes that as I spend time with Him I’ll come to believe and then my behavior will reflect my beliefs.

We definitely see this truth played out again and again on the evening news as it relates to gangs and gang activity. Kids find a place where they belong, they get acquainted and indoctrinated into a certain way of acting and thinking, and finally their behavior reflects what they know.

I definitely grew up in an environment where behavior came before belonging. I was raised in a church whose practices were extremely legalistic. We worshipped on a certain day, ate certain foods, and didn’t wear jewelry. There were a lot of “don’ts”. Don’t go to the movies, don’t dance, don’t eat shellfish, and don’t go out on Friday night dates…just to name a few.

One day I got a letter from the church elders. I was no longer considered a member because they’d “been told” that I attended another church. My behavior meant I no longer belonged.

I was hurt.

You know, the unfortunate thing about behavior-based belonging is that you really do feel that you unconditionally belong, until you don’t. I mean, I knew what the church taught, but I had no idea that attending another Christian church was on the “don’t” list.

I was the oldest of four kids (a little sister came along MUCH later), and I was always confident of my place in my family. We first-borns are given very defined roles and the expectations placed on us are often crazy high. In the past several years I discovered that I was no longer able to successfully live up to all the familial expectation. I found that I was no longer able and available to be the mom-of-kids-in-crisis/wife/employee AND a sister/daughter/hostess.

My family did not react positively to my inability to do all that was expected of me. I discovered then that my belonging was in serious jeopardy because my behavior had changed. Performance-based relationships seldom survive the long haul.

Despite my intense desire to never, ever attend a church that put legalistic rules ahead of grace, I ended up in just such a church for many years. Dysfunction can be comforting when it’s all you know. I really did feel I belonged. I know I believed, and my behavior reflected my heart. My behavior, however, was deemed less than perfect and I was booted from my church family.

I’ve written about some of the “sins” I committed while attending that church (working in the theatre is the most egregious), but being accused of saying and thinking things I never said or thought was the most personally offensive and heartbreaking.

I really hope and pray that each one of you belong. I hope you unconditionally belong to a family, a group of friends, a church body, an employment community, or a neighborhood.

Do I belong?

The Cries of a Strong Woman

For today’s Wild Ride Wednesday, I submit the most difficult and personal words I ever wrote. If you’ve never read my blog, I urge you to read it today.

Allow me to set the scene. Two of our kids were on drugs and I was fighting desperately for the lives they seemed determined to throw away. My extended family had said and done things that not only slowed, but also in some cases, reversed the work we had done to restore our children to wholeness.

Those same family members were making demands on my time and energies. I was, after all, the “strong one”.

We’d been asked to leave the church we loved—the place where our gifts and talents had been nurtured, where our children had been dedicated to the Lord, and where we’d been faithful members for thirteen years. I was accused of saying things I didn’t say and thinking things I didn’t think. It’s a shame when jealousy, selfishness, and pride ruin relationships—especially when it involves God’s kids.

My best friend told me “God closed the window of opportunity” to defend me and minister to my accuser.

Through it all I was working two jobs and I never missed a day. I was also singing in the choir at our new church and was helping the drama ministry.

I felt as if I was a failure as a mother, a friend, and a wife.

It was almost exactly six years ago to the day that I penned these thoughts. Here are the words just as I wrote them on September 10, 2004—raw and unedited.

*****

This is a page full of thoughts and words that I need to send out into the air and hope they come back less scrambled.

I feel so trapped. I want out, but to what? To where? To whom? Who do I want to be? To what end? I have been made promises that will never be fulfilled; I have been judged too harshly and not harshly enough; I have lied and have been lied to and the lies continue with the hope that if I repeat them enough they will become real and true. They are not bad lies, I tell myself, but rather kind lies. I say, "I love you", "Yes", and "That sounds great", but I don't mean it. I don't mean it. I hate myself more everyday for the "kind" lies I tell, the horrible truths that I hide, and the sadness I work so hard to disguise.

I'm afraid of the desperation that is closing in on me. I'm deeply disturbed by the thoughts I entertain, the world I escape to, and the joy I'm missing. I believe there is joy out there, even in here, but it feels so unattainable. It is sometimes just barely beyond my reach, but unattainable still. I think, "If I could just go there, I'd like it there". But I don't know where "there" is, and worse, I'm not entirely sure that "there" even exists.

The words I’ve written here are so jumbled and my thoughts are confused. Will they return to me in the form of answers and with clarity?

*****

These words are the cries of a strong woman. Look around. Chances are you are working with someone, living with someone, or sitting in a church pew next to someone whose heart is breaking and whose spirit is weak. Reach out.

Anniversaries

Anniversaries are interesting. We celebrate some anniversaries and dread others. We hope that certain dates will remind us of the joys we felt or the love we shared when we began a relationship, married, or graduated from school. Sometimes we spend an anniversary celebrating a life remembered or the date we gave up a long and destructive habit. Whatever the anniversary - we remember.

Last week, September 17, was the one year anniversary of the date our then 16-year-old daughter ran away from home and our reality changed again and forever. I thought the day might go by quietly and without much reflection, but I am finding that on that day and each day since, I remember more clearly than the day before how I felt, what I thought, how I cried, and what I feared. The smells of late Summer/early Fall make the memories strong and vivid. The colors of the sky, the earlier sunset, the neighborhood kids making the daily trek to and from school - these are the things that fill the senses every day. The fact that these normal every day occurrences were still happening last year at this time seemed to me like a personal betrayal by the whole world. How could the Earth keep spinning on its axis when my world had stopped? One year later the sights, smells and sounds of this season bring it all back.

In a week and a half we will celebrate the one year anniversary of the miracle that lead to the finding of our daughter, followed by the anniversary of the date we left her in Utah at the place she was loved and nurtured for 7 1/2 months. We will then celebrate the one year anniversary of the date our son was taken to jail, and the first anniversary of the most difficult holiday season I could ever have imagined experiencing. I look forward to the bad memories being replaced by new and happier remembrances. Our lives, however, are changed forever - in so many ways for the better.

A crisis always brings out the best and the worst in all God's children. I am grateful for the kindness of strangers and the words of encouragement that came from people I could never have imagined knowing a year ago. I still marvel at the goodness that rises out of ashes. My family strives daily to recover from the pains inflicted on us by friends and family whose critical words, thoughtless actions, and mean spirited finger pointing made our struggle nearly unbearable. We mourn the loss of relationships we once trusted.

However, we know there is hope. Our daughter is healthy, our son returned home after 9 months in jail, and our middle son has not only survived, but has thrived in the midst of the storm. If broken lives can be rebuilt, so too can broken relationships - that is...if there is the willingness to take responsibility, learn from mistakes, and trim all that is unhealthy.

One year later....there is hope.