Caught Between Two Worlds

First, I'd like to start by thanking Jon for his comment! Sometimes you wonder if anyone out there even cares about what you have to say, so it's encouraging to get that kind of feedback from someone outside my immediate circle!!!!

On to the post...

One of the great difficuties that you face in a journey like mine is the doubt and uncertainty you feel when you're caught between two worlds. I've been feeling a lot of that lately, and it's uncomfortable and frightening. I don't really feel that I quite fit in anywhere at present. I most certainly don't fit in with the folks who used to comprise my circle (truthfully, I avoid them), but I don't entirely fit in with everyone else either. I'm an anomaly. LOL.

To illustrate the point, on weekends I wait tables in a restaurant. I do this for a couple of reasons. First of all, the extra fun money is very nice. Secondly, I'm all about "living" and experiencing the things in life that appeal to me. It might sound crazy, but waitressing has always been one of those jobs that sounded fun to me. Now I can cross it off my "things to do before I die" list and say that I got the chance to experience it firsthand. Finally, every time I start thinking it's time to bail, I remember just how much I love the people I work with. They're quite a crowd - very rough around the edges and most have seen the harder side of life a few times too many. They love to party like nobody's business, and they're a group I wouldn't have had any common ground with not so long ago. Truthfully, I still don't really have much in common with them, but they are so much fun, they're beautiful people, and I really and sincerely love them. When I do finally leave, I'm going to miss them so much.

I'm getting off track a bit, th0ugh. As I was saying, a few weeks ago I was waiting tables and had a group of nice charismatic Fundies come in for dinner. They were all sweet ladies, and most of them were actually good tippers, which is unusual for religious folks in my waitressing experience. At one time, these ladies would have been a harbor in the storm, so to speak. As I was taking care of them, I couldn't help but overhear them chatting about "the Holy Spirit told me this" or "God's presence was so powerful" or "that was such deep revelation." What was interesting to me about all this, though, was how disconnected I felt from them. It was like I couldn't relate anymore. I understood what they were saying, but it was as though I had more common ground with my "heathen" co-workers than these sweet, sincere ladies. Honestly, it all felt rather awkward.

I remember how I always used to feel connected to other Christians, even if I didn't know them personally. If I saw someone praying or reading their Bible in a restaurant or wearing a Christian t-shirt, it was like I'd found a buddy and the two of us shared a special little secret. I don't feel like that much anymore. In fact, I feel very distrustful of most Christians. I feel like if I tried to share my life and heart with them, they'd reject me or judge me. It's not that my lifestyle is so much different than theirs, but I don't think like they do anymore, and I know their thought processes far to well to entrust myself to them. They'd want to "deliver" me or would secretly look down on me as an immature Christian (maybe... "not sure if she's really a Chrstian at all." LOL) who's been deceived or who "hasn't experienced God deeply enough to be satisifed in Him" like they are.

Now perhaps my experience with these ladies was more a "just that night" kind of thing. The week before they came in I took care of a couple at a table who were reading their Bibles and discussing a study guide over dinner. I asked them about what they were reading and soon we were chatting about our churches. They were really nice people. So perhaps with the other ladies I was just having an "off" night, or perhaps it was because they were charismatic sorts (I feel extremely gunshy when it comes to the charismatics these days.). I'm not sure. I do know, however, that I feel very disconnected from most other Christians of the Fundy stamp. If they turn out to be Democrats or more liberal thinkers, I start to feel safer, but the whole conservative crowd seem to be cousins eight times removed, or something like that.

On the other hand, I don't feel entirely connected to non-Christ followers either. I like the fact that I can be real with them and feel safe. I like the fact that they don't look at me as though I have two heads when I use profanity or throw back a shot of whiskey. The thing is, I don't really think like them either, and for the most part, I don't really get involved in the stuff they're involved in. Yes, I have a drink from time to time, but most of the time I'll opt for a Diet Pepsi over a beer or cocktail. I'm not a partier, and I'm still completely out of the loop on the most popular television shows. I go on a fair number of dates and make an effort to get out there and meet nice guys, but I don't fool around with those guys or bring them home with me. I'm not a raging Democrat (something that really makes me stand out in Seattle!!!), but neither am I a staunch Republican anymore. Instead, I'm trying to vote based on how a candidate's positions line up with my convictions - something most Fundies don't do. They're all Republicans, for the most part. Again, I'm an anomaly.

It's hard to feel that you're caught between two worlds, knowing that you don't fully fit in with either. As I said, this feeling is uncomfortable. I can deal with uncomfortable, but sometimes I get unsettled and afraid. I'm striking out into unfamiliar territory, and I'm frightened at the audacity of it, the possibility of making huge errors in both lifestyle and conviction. What if I end up way over in left field? What if I give up convictions I shouldn't? What if I turn God into some collage of characteristics that I find pleasing and acceptable? I don't want that for myself.

I've noticed that many people who leave the Fundy church walk away from more than the church. They walk away from the truth. I love my roommate dearly, but she's taken that path. She used to be a good Fundy girl like me. Now she defines herself as "spiritual but not religious." It's a popular label these days, and it can be a good thing or a not so good thing. For her it means that she picks and chooses what she wants to believe based on what appeals to her. She mixes in a little of this religion and a little of that religion and doesn't really believe that the Bible is the final authority on truth. I'm not like that. I'm not saying I'm better. I'm just saying I'm not like that. Maybe it's because I wrestled through that whole crisis of belief right after high school, but for me absolute truth is an essential. I don't believe I can pick and choose to come up with a spirituality that "fits" me. I don't believe that all paths lead to God. I don't believe that a person can embrace whatever form of spirituality appeals to him and still be a-okay with God. I know that kind of thinking offends people, and that's okay. It's understandable that it would be hard for people to accept such a restrictive perspective. I'm okay with the fact that it's something people have to wrestle with and find hard to accept, and I try to give them the grace and patience they need to do so, just as I need grace and patience for the things I wrestle with.

I wish this road were actually a road, not a path where few feet have trod. I wish I could feel confident that I'm going to get everything right. In fact, it's one of the few things I miss about being a Fundy - the feeling that I had my ducks in a row. Now I'm lucky if I can find my ducks, let alone get the damn things lined up correctly. But if nothing else, I can truly say that for the first time in my life I'm living by faith. There's no false sense of security coming from the fact that I think and act right 99 percent of the time (amazing how you can do almost everything right as a Fundy and still feel like God's problem child who's more a disappointment to Him than a pleasure. Will explore that more later.). There's no sense that God will accept me because I've got flawless theology or perfectly Biblical convictions. No, for the first time in my life I live by faith that Jesus is my only hope of getting to heaven. For the first time I have to trust deep down that He won't let me go too far, that He will come find me when I get lost, that He will come after me when I become Gomer and run away from home. For the first time in my life there's no corner of my heart that feels secure because I'm "on fire for God." Instead, I'm living by faith that the fire He says He has for me will be enough to keep me with Him, because the truth is I'm a faithless, weak, and pitiful excuse for a follower... just like the twelve guys He picked to be His disciples. I'm not going to "make it" or be useful to Him because I've got both feet firmly planted in the Fundy church. I'm going to make it because He's going to take pity on this wretched soul that is doomed to want all the wrong things. He's going to make something lovely and useful and precious of my life in spite of the fact that I'm a hopeless screw-up when left to my own devices.

It makes me think of something my pastor said awhile back. It was profound and beautiful, and it echoes in my soul. It's contrary to everything I was taught in the charismatic Fundy church I attended for years, but its truth rings in me like the siren call of hope. He said God is moved by our weakness. I was always taught that God was only moved by our faith, but faith, as it was taught, was not faith in weakness; it was faith in strength. Maybe in their essence faith and weakness are inseparable. They certainly are in my life, and it comforts me to think that as I've finally come to be aware of my weakness, He is moved by that.