Christianity Unraveled

November 12th, 2019

"There is always space for you."

One of my dear friends, George, texted me this a few days ago, and it hasn't left my mind since. And I must admit, this phrase has been one of the few things that leave me holding on to much of anything.

"There is always space for you."

The past few days – weeks and months, I suppose, now that I think about it, – I have been feeling as though there is nowhere that I belong. I don't fit with the ideal of the church community I have grown in, I don't fit with the atheist community, I don't fit with my family, I don't fit with the agnostic community, – it just feels as though I don't belong in any space whatsoever. And thus, I have been separating myself from nearly everything and everyone. It takes an insurmountable amount of effort to go anywhere and talk to anyone genuinely. It seems as though I am constantly dreading every meeting I have, though I have always loved them before. All I want to do, it seems, is alienate myself and sit alone either in a coffee shop (provided I have the mental energy to drag myself there) or in my room.

And even so, I know that I need community. I know that I need to feel as though I belong somewhere. I need to feel accepted and wanted, as does every single person in the entire world. Yet, I cannot bring myself anymore to feel as though I am.

Lately, I have realized that I must break out of this pattern and think of others more than I have been thinking about myself. This knowledge of my ugly and ongoing selfishness has been draining and defeating, and I desire to rid myself of it. And so, I suppose that if I am feeling this way, many other people are feeling it as well. Many other people probably feel as though they aren't truly wanted or desired, and many other people probably feel as though they don't belong.

"There is always space for you."

Perhaps this shall be my mantra to speak to people, to let others know that they are always welcome and wanted. Perhaps I must learn to reach out to others and invite them to enjoy life with me. Yet, even more so, perhaps I desire for this phrase to be spoken to all of humanity from the mouth of God. As I reflect on this, that may be a source of my dissatisfaction with God – as in, it seems absurd to me that his imperfect and tainted sinful creation can lovingly accept and create space for me to be in communion with them when he, who is greater in love than us, appears to be unable and unwilling to.

I once read an excerpt from Rachel Held Evans that spoke to my heart, and the words have constantly been challenging my thoughts of bitterness and anger toward God: Maybe God hasn't changed, but my view of him has. And I hope, as I continue to ask these difficult questions, that my view of him will become much better than it is currently.

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