Change is inevitable.
We change. Our friends change. Our homes, jobs, and opinions change. Everything changes, even our faith. Our perceptions of God, community, and Scripture become formed and validated by our experiences. This may sound scandalous but it’s actually quite human. We are not static beings. We are formed by our stories and therefore have a story-formed theology and worldview. Change happens, forming and evolving our views of just about everything. I believe this is good, here’s why.
A few weeks back my husband and I visited a local Presbyterian church with little knowledge about the denomination. What drew me was first knowing a friend who attended there and secondly, the liturgical components of the service. So we went. It was nice. Though the first thing I noticed was how trapped we both felt. The chapel was well lit but the pews were far too close together, making it almost impossible for my 6’3” husband to cross his legs. It felt warm and welcoming but not as welcoming as the trees on Mt. Tabor that engulf us during our Wild Church gatherings.
We connected with my friend, and learned a little bit about the government structure of the denomination, and that they don’t allow women in teaching positions. I wasn’t too surprised by this after looking at their leadership roster online. It was still a bit frustrating but no one forced me to go. I was simply curious. I’m not going to use it as fodder to bitch about communities still stuck on a few key verses that silence half of their church. Okay, so maybe a small bitch. Anyways, not my point.
Over the last couple of years, our desire to be a part of a local church has dwindled. Believe me, we’ve tried to join a local community (you can read about that journey here and here) but decided we needed something more expansive, more connected. More than just Sundays.
When we started Wild Church of Portland back in December of 2022, we didn’t really know what we were getting ourselves into. We only knew that we had grown tired of the building and all the effort that went into maintaining the structure both physically and theologically. So these days, we find ourselves once a month with a bunch of Christian hippies (and some who don’t identify as Christian), wandering through the woods, praying, and connecting with God. We love it but at times, it doesn’t feel like enough.
When you’ve grown used to the every Sunday morning plus a couple of nights a week routine in a traditional church, a monthly Wild Church gathering feels minuscule. I guess that’s one reason I wandered into a conservative Presbyterian church one Sunday. I needed more. Or did I?
When you’ve been told all your life that spirituality looks like this (fill in the blank) and you step outside that set of norms, it’s destabilizing. For years, I’ve equated church and spirituality with a robust set of activities that fill my calendar. From having regular prayer time to attending Sunday service. Then include all the hours of serving, worship practices, small groups, Bible study, prepping for said Bible study, leadership meetings, etc., etc. I loved the full routine for most of my young adult life but if you didn’t notice, most of those activities had little to do with mission. After the loss of a former cherished community back in 2019 and the arrival of the Pandemic, grief forced me to rethink the idea of church and community altogether.
It feels like an impossible task to shake our origin story of faith and the conditioning that has embedded itself in our worldviews. But change is an unstoppable force that often comes through suffering, waking us up to the cracks in the glass of our perspective. Even if it just starts with one crack, there’s no going back once we’ve seen it. We can drive around with it harmlessly for a while but eventually, it’ll grow. Cracks are funny that way. But the cracks are good, they are signs of change and in hindsight, they became a freedom I didn’t realize I needed even if they were painful at the time.
But routines are comfortable. For many, returning to their conditioning can feel like coming home. But for others who have experienced too many stubbed toes in that home, breaking from the routine can feel like freedom. Yet, how do we know if we are functioning out of conditioning or freedom? Maybe another way of saying this is: Do we have the freedom to change our minds about God and community or do we default to a theological conditioning that requires our belief to remain static? And let me clarify: I don’t mean abandoning community altogether or your belief in God but changing our mind about God and community that finds it’s grounding in our story. Are you letting the cracks in the glass change your view or are you just driving around with your head out the window?!
Order > Disorder > Reorder
Richard Rohr talks about the concept of growth in terms of order, disorder, and reorder which I think will be helpful to explore this idea further. Here’s how I understand this teaching. Order: when we have our shit together and our conditioning has fully formed our ideas about God and community. Disorder: We’ve experienced some type of suffering that has us questioning and doubting everything we know. This is where deconstruction begins. Reorder: When we start to put ideologies and theologies back together in a messy but beautiful reconstruction. Our personal experience is a big component of how we rebuild.
Here’s an example from my life.
Order: God is completely in control, and has a purpose for my life. God loves me and wants the best for me. If I remain faithful, God will “give me the desires of my heart.” God is knowable, transactional, and attainable. God is Father. I connect with God through a regular quite time of reading scripture and praying.
Disorder: Suffering has entered the picture. God is distant, aloof, and maybe not fully in control. He doesn’t want to give me the desires of my heart, he wants obedient children who display the fruits of the spirit. God is a kind friend, good at listening but incapable of changing circumstances. I’m alone to figure this life out on my own.
Reorder: God is a mystery. God grieves. God is All-Vulnerable which makes me believe that He is also All-Loving. God has woven herself into all creation and all beings. God is God and free to do as he pleases, and God greatest pleasure is to be near her children. God is both Mother and Father. I connect best with God when I quiet my inner chatter and listen.
See the change? How can you not?! Yet, for years I was stuck running between order (conditioning) and disorder (suffering) in an attempt to regain what I had lost through suffering. I didn’t want my story to interfere with the clean and tidy beliefs I had about God. I was afraid that if I let go of my God in order, I would lose him completely in disorder. I’ve seen many friends walk again from God entirely the moment disorder arrived at their doorstep. Yet there are others who cling to their doctrines and dogmas as if they are the buoys that’ll save them from the storms of life. But there is a third way of reorder, this is our new wineskins!1
We all have cracks that have changed our perspective on God. If you’ve lived long enough for life to kick you around a bit, the cracks are there regardless of if you acknowledge them or not. But if we can see the cracks as opportunities to grow through disorder, even if they are painful, they can free us to move into reorder. They can also free God from our own feeble grasp that wants to control the narrative instead of sinking into the Great Mystery. It will also free others from the restraint of our theological guessing games that have turned us into gatekeepers instead of table recliners.2
I, at times, succumb to romanticizing the good ‘ol days of order, perhaps that’s why I still long to walk through the doors of a church, it is all I have known. But that Sunday, squished between a two wooden pews, I felt a freedom to come and to go; to appreciate church for what it is and for my faith to look different than a traditional Sunday morning. This isn’t about me creating God in my own image, that’s what I believe happens in order with our well-educated definitions of who we think God is or is not. God is much too wild and isn’t so easily contained, especially when you’re standing on a mountain. When I lead a Wild Church gathering, I feel small and insignificant in the best possible way. I’m not on a stage with a microphone or have been bestowed some title of authority. I’m just God’s child wandering through the woods, attempting to guide others along a similar path. And though some may not understand it, that is enough for me now…well, until I change my mind.
END NOTE: Honestly, I have so much more to write but this essay needs to end somewhere! So let’s keep the conversation going below in the comments. What resonates with you? What do you struggle with? Do you think I’m totally nuts?
Matthew 9:16, 17 “No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch will pull away from the garment, making the tear worse. Neither do people pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.”
Matthew 9:10 “And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples.
you're not nuts. :) you're just a pilgrim walking with Jesus on the journey. i love watching and listening to you and others and how they experience Jesus - whether it be a struggle or a walk in the woods. we need to see that. we need to see the variety! we need to hear the stories. thank you for that.