My kids are all mixed up in our faith transformation/crisis/healing. It would probably be nice for their parents to be sure; for their parents to give them the security of telling them what to think and believe. But their faith journeys are just as important and different as ours and I want to leave room for them to trust themselves.
Faith is not something to be shared or given; faith can only be explored and then supported. I’ve never liked the parable of the ten virgins, five of which have oil and the other five don’t, but faith is like the figurative oil. While the five prepared women could have shared their oil with the five unprepared women, they couldn’t impose or force their faith journeys on their sisters. That, fortunately, is impossible. The diversity of faith journeys are what makes our humanity so beautiful.
It’s probably not easy for our children to explain to all their actively Mormon friends why dad doesn’t go to church or why our house occasionally smells like coffee. It’s difficult to appear different in a culture where differences are often feared; often, different can be viewed as evil or less than, but different usually just means unknown. And I’m starting to realize that I’m more concerned about being different than they are.
Because of the fear of being different, Steven and I have both felt shame about our doubts, experiences, and life journeys. Because of this shame, we hid and suffered alone for so long. However, once we started sharing our experiences, we found people who are incredibly tender, loving, and kind. People who understand and people who don’t listen, love, and comfort. I’ve found Christ and healing in them. My fear was that different was bad, that the faith and questions within me were wrong, but now I know we are all different.
As Steven and I shared our journeys, we have also found that some people use fear, anger, and hurt to withdraw from our lives. This has been a tragedy for me. One of the main reasons Steven left the church is because he says it is used to tear families apart. I could not understand what he meant until he showed me, and it broke my heart.
I choose to stay in this church, I take my children to this church, and I don’t want it to blind us and tear us apart. However, the church doesn’t make us thoughtless and hurtful: our choices do. The church does not make us listen, understand, love, or be kind: our choices do. No matter where or how we choose to express our faith, our family has the choice to listen and love.
