Posted on by palmtreemomma

100% Absolute Surety

Growing up in an uber-conservative subculture of evangelical Americanism gave me the experience of needing to be 100% right. 100% sure. 100% of the time.

Sure…

…of God.

…of salvation.

… the afterlife.

…of what to do and not to do in this life.

There was no hint of mystery because 100% surety leaves no place for mystery. If something held mystery or did not make sense, it was whisked away or given answers that made even less sense. Instead of bringing relief, this way of living delivered a strange mix of anxiety. When you must know everything 100%, you must not stop. Never rest. Never be okay with anything less than 100% surety.

Instead of being filled with peace, I was filled with anxiety. I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake as a young child, so worried that I may have forgotten to confess one of my many sins. The fear that I would perchance miss the sound of The Trumpet and be left behind to suffer through the Tribulation and eventually hell itself. I lay there terrified that the house would burn down in the night and I would burn with it.

Eventually, I came to a more solid place in my belief where I was sure I had been forgiven and my soul would not be sent to hellfire. Yet, I still had much anxiety. Even in the knowing. Even in the so-called peace.

room for mystery

If there is only one formula for eternal salvation, and missing one aspect, even slightly, could negate that eternal salvation, then how could one ever really be sure? Especially when so many voices proclaimed their formula the correct one.

100% surety leaves no place for mystery. Yet the reality of life, as I live and breathe and look around me is that that there is so much mystery. There is so very, very much that cannot be explained.

I suppose that is why eventually I dropped the priestly robes I had acquired and found myself stepping into the mystical, mysterious role of prophet. Questioner. A believer who is also a doubter.

I found I could no longer put the Divine into a box, wrapped in neat and tidy answers. Nor could I follow a god that would kill me if I made the slightest misstep. I suppose, without even fully knowing what I was doing, I went on a quest to find the god of love. To see if he/she/they existed.

I like what I have found, even though I cannot fully explain what I have found. I do know that I have more peace and less anxiety now that I have embraced mystery.

holding holes up to the light

It takes bravery to admit the holes in one’s faith. Pull out the questions that have been shoved into darkness and hold them up to the light. Knowing the whole thing could crumble. I mean, really, who likes to sit in the rubble, surrounded by dust, ashes, and little tangible substance? But it was only in the empty spaces, held up to the light, where I could experience light. Only in the mystery that I began to see beauty in the questions and unknowns. 100% surety leaves no place for mystery. But once I made mystery my friend instead of my enemy, everything changed.

A couple of years ago I had the honor of traveling to Bangladesh with some friends. I no longer moved as one who had the answers that everyone else needed. And in one profound moment, that I will never forget, this question came to live in me.


What if we all have a piece of the puzzle of who god is?

I had spent 2 weeks moving nonstop. Heart open, taking in as much as I could. From reconnecting with the gentle Hindu woman who used to clean my house, to the conservative Muslim driver who cared for me and shared his water when I became horribly ill. From the refugee camp of the most unwanted people on earth to the home of a dear friend who shared her recent journey of going on the Haj. We heard the songs of women who used to work in the red light district, saw the smiles of their babies. I shared endless cups of tea and plates of curry. Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, Muslims. All of us rubbing shoulders. Laughing. Crying. Living. Loving. Each person I met unveiled a piece of the Divine I had not seen before. Unseen because I had not been looking. Because I thought I had the entire piece already.

But what if we all have a tiny piece of the puzzle of who god is? What if we never get a glimpse of the beauty of the whole because we are all so sure that our piece is the only piece that gives peace. The only piece that is right.

Can’t say that I know for sure, but I have a hunch that embracing mystery and setting aside our need to be right is where the journey to the Divine begins.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

The Baffling Epiphany

Soon after my husband came out to me, my brother came out as gay. This was a complete shock to me. I did not see it coming. It was one of those moments when everything made sense, yet nothing made sense, all at the same time. I call it a baffling epiphany, a moment when beliefs and reality collide. The way I viewed the world, my lens, was no longer working.

All my life, I had been taught that being a homosexual is pretty much the worst sin there is. I was also taught that God loved and created each person so if someone was a homosexual, then they must have chosen to become one.

For those of you from other faith backgrounds, bear with me. I only know how to explain my own journey through the lens of Christianity, because that is how I experienced it. It may not resonate at all with you. Or perhaps you started out with the lens of Christianity but laid it aside because you could not reconcile it with your reality. I respect your journey, wherever you are at on the path. The God I know is all about life. I feel, for the sake of those who are being crushed or suffocated because of straight Christians who represent a fire-breathing God, I must speak bluntly.

The Early Lens

I grew up in a conservative Mennonite Christian home. My grandfather was the bishop of our church. I was barely a teenager when my father was ordained, by lot, to be a preacher much like Noah Funk in the first episode of Pure. This shook me, literally. Sitting in the pew behind my father, I nervously watched as he picked up a hymn book from the table and began thumbing through it. I saw the slip of paper from behind and began to weep silently. The weight on my shoulders was almost unbearable, and I knew I would be under even more scrutiny than before. I suddenly felt as if I had to be even more perfect.

I was the eldest child in my family and the only daughter, followed by 3 sons. Our view of Scripture was literal and questioning this lens was highly discouraged. We had a clear understanding of what was right and wrong and to deviate would bring serious consequences. While we were taught grace and forgiveness, the church always had long lists of rules which would keep us in God’s favor. We were taught that following the rules would not save us, but it was also impressed on us that not following them could condemn us. We also believed that God had a special blessing for those who kept these laws.

Questioning the Lens

My middle brother was one of those people who did everything right. As humans go, he is and was as close to perfect as I have ever encountered. He is honest, hard working, loyal, and kind to a fault. My brother is generous and deeply compassionate. He is one of the most God-like humans I have ever met. Remember that I was the big sister, so I knew him his whole life. Up and close, in the flesh. His generous gigantic heart is not a pretense, it is the real deal.

So when he came out to me, I was more than a little shocked and puzzled. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that someone so good and God-like could also be what my people saw as the worst kind of sin or abomination. As he allowed me glimpses into his internal landscape and the struggle his entire life had been, I knew, without a doubt, that he had not chosen this. The pieces just did not fit together.

So I began to question things. How could a God that loved humanity create someone like my brother, only to throw him aside as an abomination? If God is loving, how is it possible for such a person as my brother to beg for this to be taken away, yet it remained? The God I know is all about life. This just did not make sense.

The Broken Lens

As these questions continued to grow and circle round my brain, I also had a front row seat as I watched my own husband’s struggle. The depression and anxiety, the shame, all turned it into a struggle just to survive. It is something no human being would ever choose. One day Austin told me about the rope he had hanging in the woods when he was a teenager, and how he had planned to use it to end his life because of this struggle.

I was undone. The lens snapped into bits at my feet and the world blurred, literally. It was a moment of baffling epiphany and the lens I had used my whole life was no longer working.

A New Lens

There are those who will protect the lens at all costs. I could no longer do that. I had to start with what I knew to be true – that good, kind and God-like people were queer. It was wired into their DNA and no amount of begging God would change it. I knew in my bones that God is love and merciful and would never create a life, only to cause that person to live in so much shame that they would choose death. The God I know is all about life. Those pieces just did not fit together anymore and I had a growing suspicion that the lens I had been using was the wrong lens.

Knowing my husband and my brother, and seeing their journey up and close was an invitation to pick up a new lens. A decade later, I can assure you that this lens still serves me well. It allows me to see the world in full color, instead of black and white. This lens filters out judgement, which was never my job in the first place, and allows mercy and mystery to swirl and fill the periphery. I get to live and interact with some of the most beautiful humans whose colors cannot be seen through a black and white lens. It captures life because the God I know is all about life. This lens is pro life for every human being that breathes, regardless of gender, status or orientation.

If the God I know is all about life, shouldn’t I be as well?


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photos courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.