Another Letter
To follow up the last letter, I thought I would write another. This may seem a bit lame, but I have written a letter to myself. It is a note I wish I would have received when I was an 18 year-old freshman at Harding
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Dear Self,
You are 18 and lost. You don’t know why everything seems to be falling apart. You thought everything would start to make sense once you got out of the house and went away to college, but it hasn’t. Things won’t even begin to make sense for a very long time. You feel confused, alone, frightened. You are trying to find your place in this world and in the church and inside yourself, but you are beginning to feel as though it is hopeless. You think you will never be whole, and you think you will always hurt.
I remember. Trust me, I will never forget, though I am the older You. I remember what it was like that first year at Harding, when you thought you could finally make everything right if you just found the right crowd, studied the right books, and prayed the right prayers. You even asked to be re-baptized, thinking that the first one must not have counted if you were feeling these emotions and thinking these thoughts. You aren’t totally unhappy, having made some friends in the first few months away from home. But you don’t think you can tell those friends what is going on inside. You don’t think you can tell Mom and Dad. You are afraid of what will happen if the Secret gets out.
I am writing to tell you this: you will survive, you have strength, you are loved.
It is okay that you are scared. It’s only natural. You are growing up into someone you don’t yet know. You are afraid of who he will be, what he will believe, and how he will live. You are afraid you don’t have the strength to do what you think you have to do. You are afraid that you will end up alone.
But you have the strength. You will have the strength to turn your eyes inward and face the demons. You will have the strength to sort through the fears of Hell and of rejection. You will read what others have written and realize that others have done what you think you have to do. And they have survived, too.
You will read still more (since you will wrongly think you can’t talk to anyone) and discover that there are many out there who challenge the traditional interpretations of the texts by which you feel so terrorized. You will learn that there are many others out there who are working to teach others that, perhaps, the Old Readings of the Bible may not be the True Readings (if such readings exist). You will learn that there is more to Faith and to Worship than you have been taught. You will learn that, sometimes, it is okay to be unsure of the answer.
This will not be an easy journey. I, even as I write this to you, still struggle. I struggle with faith (though my faith has deepened immeasurably), I struggle with family (though I am able to love them so much more, now that I can love myself), I struggle with the Church (though I and others like me are part of the Church we struggle with).
The journey will be made bearable though, because of the people you encounter along the way. At Harding and beyond, you will meet people who will love you when you don’t think you deserve it, who will bear your burden when you no longer can, and who will stand beside when you need it (or in front of you to shield a blow). You will not make it without these people; let them into your life. These people will be your friends at Harding, friends you make after Harding, and even a couple of Church of Christ ministers (though you can hardly imagine that now). They will love you and will show that love in countless ways.
So stand firm. Cry when you need to, and shout your rage to Heaven when you need to. Just be patient. God loves you. I love you. Your friends and yes, even your family, love you.
Do not be ashamed, and do not be afraid. Be strong. The secrets you so fear will not destroy you, and it is only when you face what lurks in the dark corners of your heart that you will begin to heal and begin to grow. Just remember that you are “convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate [you] from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
With love and even with certainty,
Yourself, age 25
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Dear Self,
You are 18 and lost. You don’t know why everything seems to be falling apart. You thought everything would start to make sense once you got out of the house and went away to college, but it hasn’t. Things won’t even begin to make sense for a very long time. You feel confused, alone, frightened. You are trying to find your place in this world and in the church and inside yourself, but you are beginning to feel as though it is hopeless. You think you will never be whole, and you think you will always hurt.
I remember. Trust me, I will never forget, though I am the older You. I remember what it was like that first year at Harding, when you thought you could finally make everything right if you just found the right crowd, studied the right books, and prayed the right prayers. You even asked to be re-baptized, thinking that the first one must not have counted if you were feeling these emotions and thinking these thoughts. You aren’t totally unhappy, having made some friends in the first few months away from home. But you don’t think you can tell those friends what is going on inside. You don’t think you can tell Mom and Dad. You are afraid of what will happen if the Secret gets out.
I am writing to tell you this: you will survive, you have strength, you are loved.
It is okay that you are scared. It’s only natural. You are growing up into someone you don’t yet know. You are afraid of who he will be, what he will believe, and how he will live. You are afraid you don’t have the strength to do what you think you have to do. You are afraid that you will end up alone.
But you have the strength. You will have the strength to turn your eyes inward and face the demons. You will have the strength to sort through the fears of Hell and of rejection. You will read what others have written and realize that others have done what you think you have to do. And they have survived, too.
You will read still more (since you will wrongly think you can’t talk to anyone) and discover that there are many out there who challenge the traditional interpretations of the texts by which you feel so terrorized. You will learn that there are many others out there who are working to teach others that, perhaps, the Old Readings of the Bible may not be the True Readings (if such readings exist). You will learn that there is more to Faith and to Worship than you have been taught. You will learn that, sometimes, it is okay to be unsure of the answer.
This will not be an easy journey. I, even as I write this to you, still struggle. I struggle with faith (though my faith has deepened immeasurably), I struggle with family (though I am able to love them so much more, now that I can love myself), I struggle with the Church (though I and others like me are part of the Church we struggle with).
The journey will be made bearable though, because of the people you encounter along the way. At Harding and beyond, you will meet people who will love you when you don’t think you deserve it, who will bear your burden when you no longer can, and who will stand beside when you need it (or in front of you to shield a blow). You will not make it without these people; let them into your life. These people will be your friends at Harding, friends you make after Harding, and even a couple of Church of Christ ministers (though you can hardly imagine that now). They will love you and will show that love in countless ways.
So stand firm. Cry when you need to, and shout your rage to Heaven when you need to. Just be patient. God loves you. I love you. Your friends and yes, even your family, love you.
Do not be ashamed, and do not be afraid. Be strong. The secrets you so fear will not destroy you, and it is only when you face what lurks in the dark corners of your heart that you will begin to heal and begin to grow. Just remember that you are “convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate [you] from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
With love and even with certainty,
Yourself, age 25
posted by GR at 2/03/2006 04:55:00 PM
16 Comments:
Nice letter.
Joe,
Thanks for stopping by. I am a frequent reader of Gay Spirituality and Culture.
-GR
Very nice. What a wonderful way to "reflect" and further process growth.
Grace,
The letter really was a good way to think back on the last couple of years and think about the challenges overcome and the love I've been given. It was a reminder of progress at a time when I'm not feeling like I've come all that far.
-GR
this is going to be cryptic, especially since we don't know eachother. (i would've left our cozy, piedmontese alma mater a few years before you arrived.)
but, for those of us who grew up in fundamentalist groups and now find ourselves not so fundamentalist anymore, life seems to be a process of reconciliation.
otherwise, it seems that bitterness can too easily corrode our (forgive the royal we) soul.
not that bitterness doesn't ooze out every once in a while and not that our fundamentalism doesn't rear its ugly head every once in a while.
i'm sorry...i hope that that comment didn't come across as presumptuous. i didn't mean it that way. i meant it more as, you are in my prayers. and that this letter isn't that lame.
GR,
Keep up the excellent writing. We all have self-doubt when we express ourselves so deeply from within, much less when we put it out here for all the world to see. You show a great deal of courage every time you post something so heartfelt here.
As an earlier poster wrote, I am also an alumni of our proud alma mater at the foothills of the Ozarks. I've spent the past few years searching for reconciliation between the God I love and myself. It's been a long, often times bitter struggle, but I know that God loves me and wants me to have peace. I hope he shines his peace upon you as well. Keep up the good work. Your journey impacts all of us who have traveled along the same path.
I am a seminarian that recently began to read your blog. I haven't read many of your posts yet, but I intend to. Your thoughts intrigue me and I have many questions to ask you, yet I am a slow processor. Thanks for challenging me, though.
GR
Thanks for your posts. I have struggled for years with who I am.
Know in my heart, but when I was young, Dad chose for me and now I'm married with 3 amazing sons. I would not trade that for the world but there are days when I don't want to struggle anymore. I want to be able to say I'm gay and a devout follower of Jesus and be ok with it. My wife understands the best she is able.
Your letter to your Dad was great. I wept cuz I understand, for my Dad it's not so much about the church. I'm C of C, he's not. He just couldn't handle having a gay son.
For me it's trying to understand who I am with who God wants me to be. Sorry for sounding off on your blog, can't talk about it with anyone here. BTW...I too spent time near the foothills of the Ozarks.
Jeremy,
You are right; there is a constant cycle of tension (resulting in bitterness) and reconciliation as we try to discharge fundamentalisms in exchange for something different (better?).
I used to think the bitterness dangerous; now I'm not so sure. Without the anger and bitterness I learned to feel (toward Harding, the CoC, etc.), I would never have been able to take some of the steps I've taken over the past few years.
Now my challenge is to leave behind some of the bitterness and replace it with something healthier (it will, after all, eat away at Our soul). I find myself less angry with Harding every day, but I'm not sure what emotion is replacing the bitterness. Just takes time, I guess.
right...on all accounts. and read these next paragraphs as someone in the midst of this and not someone who has arrived anywhere.
who's to say, except those who reject their own fundamentalism or those who are not and have never been fundamentalists, that unfundamentalizing yourself is necessarily a good thing...or that you will end up in a "better" place than before...you will be in a different place, for sure. as to whether it's better or not...we are not ones to judge. our call is to try and do "good works" from where we are--of course, understanding that "good works" are simply and expression of our Christlikeness and not an emmanation of anything like self-righteousness or goodness, per se.
also, indubitably there is, to co-opt an analogy, the need to move through the grieving process as this happens, as one leaves behind the security of the past (with all its complicated stickiness ang guilt)--hate, frustration, bitterness will be there and, again, the question seems to be "what will we do with this?" (some days it will make us better, more compassionate and understanding...other days it will make us shout fuck you to the world and to our past and those in and of our past)
you're right it does take time...and even when you think i'm over this...it will come back and bite you in the butt.
again, i hope i don't sound smug. i say this as one who, to borrow doctorow's pronouncement on writing, go through life with my lights on in a fog, only able to see 3 feet in front of me.
this is one of the reasons I like "risk" as a theological concept.
from yet another alum from, if I may correct, near the foothills of the Ozarks.
jtb,
once again, you've nailed it. it is a risky business to leave behind that which we knew for some undiscovered future.
jeremy,
smug? nah.
well, right, smug isn't the word. it just seems that this can of talk can often come across as little more than platitudes.
and i think jtb is right. risk. we must put ourselve, hermeneutics and all, at risk and in play in order to move into relationship with the living God who tamed Tiamat.
a quote that i have been trying to find/remember but haven't been able to find because i don't know where i wrote it down and i don't own the book...goes something like this
we are inextricably bound to, even, to an extent, defined by, those things which we most forcefully oppose
GR,
What do you think such a letter would look like written to you, age 25, by you, age 30 or 35?
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