Rooted

I am fascinated by trees and their root systems. Most gardeners and home owners are frustrated when the roots of trees spread and ruin the look of their well manicured yards. Tree roots are unruly and unpredictable. They go where they want rather than where we would like them to go. To me, they feel a bit like wild and joyful chaos.

A couple of weeks ago I shared the naming of my progress - the ways I have grown and transformed over the past few years. My faith was, and is, the center of my life. And yet, I realize now how small and neatly ordered it was. That sounds counterintuitive, doesn’t it? How can my faith be the foundation my life has been built upon and still be small and tidy? Let me try and flesh out what I mean.

I grew up in the church. My Pawpaw was a Baptist pastor and my Mawmaw, the perfect pastor’s wife. I remember sitting in the front pew behind the organ (where my mama, who was the organist, could reach us if we started misbehaving) watching Pawpaw preach. He was 5’6” and he commanded that pulpit like he was 7 feet tall. He was gentle in daily life and a force of nature when he preached. Mawmaw was grace-filled and truly gifted in hospitality. I remember watching her take notes in her well-worn Bible every week during the sermon, and when the service was over, she was the loving presence that made every person there feel personally and truly welcome and cared for. They were the ultimate power couple in ministry.

Pawpaw retired for the first time when I was in 5th or 6th grade. He went on to retire 2 more times as the retirement never seemed to stick. My parents found a larger Baptist church near our house that had lots of opportunities for children and youth, and we continued worshipping every week. We were literally there every time the doors opened. It was such a part of my life that I can’t separate my childhood and adolescent memories from the memories of the church.

As an adult, my faith remained the well-conceived structure I built my life around. I have a seminary degree. I was a pastor’s wife just like my Mawmaw for 20 years. I can quote parts of the Bible and most of the order of communion. I can even tell you about the Hebrew people’s cycle of apostasy and the Wesleyan quadrilateral. And yet my faith was too small and too tidy.

For so long, I believed my faith was what I did and how I loved God. I had the answers to all of the questions, and I felt pretty sure my answers were right. And I have always been pretty outspoken about my faith. Absolutely, I felt shaken to my core when we miscarried our first child; when my dear friend was nearly killed, and her fiancé was killed, in a terrible car accident; when my son nearly died when he fell into a ketoacidotic coma and was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at age 5. But my faith never wavered. Even when my husband died and everything I knew crashed into a million pieces, God has been my comfort and my hiding place.

And I think that is where the shift started. When none of my answers fit the questions I was asking, I fell into God’s presence. My neatly trimmed and well manicured faith felt like a binding around me, and all I could hold on to was the promise that God was near. I found that the answers and the certainty and the trappings of religion felt shallow to me, and they began to fall away one by one.

My faith had always been about what I could do for God, and when I had nothing left to offer, God quietly whispered to me that I was still held - I was still loved - I was still called.

I am learning to let my faith grow and transform now. I have spent the past few years deconstructing and reconstructing my theology and my understanding of how God works in the world around me. I am a lot less sure about the answers, but I am more certain about God. Here is what I know for sure:

God is bigger than I can imagine. I am never going to understand all of who God is, and so I am learning to be ok sitting with the questions.

I am more loved and treasured than I can understand. This has been a tricky one for me. I struggle with unworthiness. But God’s love for me is sure and true. Even when I don’t feel lovable, I am certain that the Creator who made me, loves me.

God is present with me always. There is a mystery here. God, who is big and perfect and Creator of the entire universe, is very personally present in my good days, and especially in my dark ones. I have known the presence of God most closely in my suffering.

God is a bit like those tree roots I love so much - unruly and wild, never following the rules I think are best, but always surprising me with joyful chaos and steady presence.

These few things I know are true, and they are enough. I am rooted in the wild and holy presence of God.