Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!
(Defying Gravity, from the musical Wicked)
When my beliefs, those long-held religious and doctrinal tenets I’d known since a child, started niggling at me, changing, and frankly, just stopped working, it felt as though the very ground beneath me was slipping away.
The image that often came to mind was of some brave soul crossing a rickety wooden bridge. It swings dangerously over a deep, cavernous space, sparsely protecting her from what’s below. As she gets closer to the other side, she realizes the just-traveled planks are disintegrating beneath her feet. She runs, scrambles, claws and then leaps (at the last possible moment) to the security and safety of firm ground. And simultaneously, what was left of the bridge, her previously-trusted stability, falls into oblivion. She sits winded and stunned on the other side, aware that her fate hung in an incredibly precarious balance – and she survived.
More than once I have been suspended over seemingly impossible situations that have caused me to grasp frantically for any solid ground. Singleness. Infertility. Years of therapy and family of origin issues. Being a pastor’s wife. Becoming the ex-wife of a pastor. Leaving the church. Being laid off. Struggling to pay a mortgage and support my daughters as a single mom. There is more, of course. This is enough.
My circumstances were/are not, in any way, more difficult than anyone else’s. And, like many others in such places I turned to my beliefs – certain that “all things work together for good.” But the bridge felt wobbly. I felt shaky, unstable, and ambivalent. And when push came to shove, literally, the firm foundation of my faith completely fell apart.
Right then and there I had to choose: return to a life of unquestioning, uncomfortable silence or leap into the unknown.
I leapt. And, in so doing, survived.
I also found faith.
In my religious tradition, faith is understood as a system of beliefs upon which one can (must) stand – firmly, resolutely, without question or doubt. It is something within which I (must) place my confidence and trust; something that resides outside of me and usually presides in authority (God, a pastor, a man).
What I needed, however, was confidence and trust in something within; frankly, I needed to have faith in myself. I had to make the leap. There was no other choice.
I’m not the only one who has stood in such places. Do you feel the ground beneath you starting to shift? Do your beliefs no longer provide you the sure footing they promised? Do you know how to cross the gaping chasm between significant life/belief questions and answers that no longer satisfy? When circumstances occur in life that defy the staid, safe tenets of religious dogma, do you know who and how you will be?
Frankly, there are no easy answers to these questions. The scrambling ensues. And ultimately, all you can do is leap.
To let go of seemingly rock-solid answers in search of more meaningful questions is not an abandoning of our beliefs; it is faith.
To adventure bravely across treacherous waters, confident that your own strength will carry you is faith.
To trust that old stories can have new meanings, assumed truths can be queried, and that you can remain standing in the midst is faith.
To leap when everything in (and everyone around) you tells you that gravity is irrefutable is faith.
And faith will not let you down.
I took the risk, stepped onto that swaying bridge, ran like hell, and didn’t look back. And I continue to stand strongly in my doubts, knowing that they are the very things that enable my beliefs. I am endlessly letting go of more and more that I’ve held sacred, dear, or sacrosanct. And I am forever leaping – trusting that when I land I will step forward, confident and empowered, defying gravity time and again.
This risking, doubting, letting go, and leaping is endless. Solid ground is a myth; but the endless, soaring flight of faith offers a stabilizing loft that sustains, emboldens, and yes, defies gravity over and over again.
Go ahead: make the leap. Have faith. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side. Here, take my hand…
It’s time to try
Defying gravity
I think I’ll try
Defying gravity
And you can’t pull me down!
I have also taken this leap, and with it, the freedom to fly. Bless you on your journey.
Thank you, Melissa. LOVE knowing there are other beautiful women – leaping – daring – risking – being.
I am so, so glad that Ronna is doing this work. I took this leap completely alone, often longing for connection and help and guidance. It was never clear to me that there were more experienced, loving, godmothers and sisters on the other side of the struggler until I got there. I’m just beginning to lay the groundwork to help and sister others through life’s struggles. It’s so encouraging to see Ronna doing her work with such boldness, truth, and unabashed, accessible spirituality. Thank’s for being so revolutionary, Ronna.
Mmmm. Love the word “revolutionary,” Anna. It feels a bit daunting – internally – AND like the thing to which I’m called; to which all women are called – in different, unique, and profound ways. SO grateful for your words.
Leaving religion for faith is quite a unique experience. I know my personal time in church, however brief, after the fun getting to know each other part was over, I still wanted more. Only now, as I have been relentlessly searching for understanding for years, am I finding that more within myself.
“I still wanted more.” Love this, Beth; and yes – there is so much more that our souls are hungry for, long for, reach for. I’m grateful that you are finding places in which those desires are found…and filled. May it be so, even more.
It’s clear that you’ve been on a sacred journey and have come to some profound insights. My questions have to do with how do you now integrate this into your life’s profession as an ordained person? Your call to service? Has your understanding of community deepened as a result? thank you for your story…
Tammy: Such good questions – with no short answers.
My ordination is a gift, really; a marking and acknowledging of both my study and my love(s). It’s not something I use professionally (as in preaching in a church or the like), rather, an honor and reminder to me of what it means to follow call and honor sacred trust.
My call to service is an everyday thing. Some days I listen, other days I don’t, and other days still I even respond! But this is not unique to me, do you think? Regardless of our beliefs, this IS our heart’s call: to be part of a story that is larger than just our own and in such, to serve, to give, to contribute, to make a difference.
And yes, my understanding and experience of community are far deeper than ever before – in large part because of the LOSS of community (or at least the facade of such). Now, those relationships and spaces of love-life-laughter are, indeed, sacred. I am incredibly grateful for circles that surround and support me and I long to be able to create and strengthen even more of them for others. It makes ALL the difference.
xoxo
Ronna, have you written about how you address others who are “concerned” for you?
Not formally, rain. I’ve had this conversation often in 1:1 contexts – whether through spiritual direction or some other context. It’s a tough one…AND something about which I have a number of thoughts!
Thanks for provoking me to this…another blog post may just be on the way!
And, would love to have that conversation with you, if I can help or offer some perspective from my own experience.
thank you for the offer Ronna! <3
Of course. xoxo
Yes, old stories have new meanings and for me is a kind of self a deep and personal Faith, one I need renew each day; or the ‘monkey brain’ default setting of fear and doubt takes over. So interesting how simply reading this affirmation shifts my energy. The power of community and truth shared stories. thank you Ronna.
“The power of community and truth shared stories.” May it be so, Callahan. May it be so. xoxo
Ronna, I’m so glad I came across this. Faith is something that we have been talking a lot about lately, and your post here was so clearly and beautifully written. Staying with the path you have always known may be uncomfortably comforting, but taking the scarier leap of faith rewards you with a freedom and life you would never have known.
I couldn’t agree more!
You have stated the ‘obvious’ which has been in my heart for so long Ronna, but I just couldn’t find the words to express it. Thank you for clarifying all this so eloquently – having faith in ourselves is the true path to enlightenment.
‘Am so humbled, Maree, when my words can express another’s heart. Thank you for saying so…
Like Anna, I’m so glad you are doing this work, Ronna! Sometimes it feels like when I left Christianity behind, I left behind a world of richness and soulfulness. A place where spiritual practice was unremarkable, and understood.
Rediscovering those things without religious community has been (and continues to be) an often lonely journey. It’s so good to hear about other women finding richness and passion and faith in new ways…
Michelle: how well I understand this loss and experience of a lonely journey. And how sad it makes me…for you, to be sure; but for all of us.
I continue to wonder what it would look like to be able to (re)claim that which offers us the most beauty/strength without feeling like we’re going backwards, being sucked into some never-to-escape vortex, or denying our own voice, strength, passions, etc.
And so, I press on…grateful for fellow travelers alongside!
I’m so happy to find you here! I was born into a very religious family and continued in the path until my late twenties. I never found the freedom in Christianity like those who were around me seem to find; I found bondage and shame. Thankfully, my husband was brave enough to ask questions and find his own path which gave me to courage to do the same. I have found more faith and freedom in the questions and doubt than in the so-called answers and certainty. I look forward to reading more about your journey and insight.
Your story is not unfamiliar to me, Shaon…and it makes me sad – the bondage and shame. Simultaneously, I’m SO glad that you’ve found “faith and freedom in the questions and doubt.” That’s the place to go – and stay because that’s where relevance, passion, grit, and life live. Even more, God shows up. xoxo