Sometimes, I miss Jesus.
I miss the sense of assurance I felt in pain and heartbreak, in sickness and death.
I miss the sense of assurance I felt during the joyful moments, too. A birth, a wedding, reaching the peak of a mountain.
For 22 years of my life, I believed everything had a God-ordained purpose and was working for the good of His Kingdom. Even the poverty, the natural disasters, the bloodshed of millions of innocents… that was for the good of His Kingdom too.
I know my Christian readers are probably thinking: it still is.
I mourn the loss of a relationship with a trinity I now believe to be nonexistent. I miss the feeling that my prayers were being answered, directly, by an intimate God. I miss the time when my Proverbs 3:5-6 tattoo meant something.
I miss having answers to some of life’s greatest mysteries, and knowing that my purpose on Earth was a purpose I shared with millions of others. We were united on a global level.
I miss the local communities that would gather on the pretext of this mutual understanding of a greater deity, and all that would come with that: the pot luck dinners, the weddings, the singing (oh how I miss the singing), the reminder to do and be better. Sometimes I think it would have been easier to stay, to silence the voices whispering “no, this isn’t it, I don’t think so” and play the game anyway, because the loss of leaving the team would be too great.
For a long time, Jesus was the light with which I could see the world and understand my place in it. When I switched off that light, which had been flickering for months, and moved to another room, I was overwhelmed by the immensity of darkness. I was taught that Jesus was the light, the only light, and without Him, I would suffer in this dark world, fumbling my way through like a baby deer.
A couple of years ago, I found another light. I don’t know where it came from and I don’t know what it is. It doesn’t fit into a narrative or a doctrine, it doesn’t have its own community. When I ask friends, it doesn’t look like the light that guides them on their path either. I can’t talk to it, at least, not in the way that I used to talk to Jesus. But it’s on and it’s shining. Because of it, I can see a horizon that stretches a lot further and a sky that reaches a lot higher.
As I write this, I can see my Christian friends with their arms out, smiling at me from the field saying “you’re welcome back you know, come on! We love you!” and I can’t help but smile, and feel the warmth of their love. The grass is green and lush and the sun is cloaking them in a golden glow.
But I can never play that game again. Not under those rules.
So instead I nod, and give them a slight smile. I watch them play for a few more minutes, and kick the ball in from the sideline when it goes out. But then I walk on, over to the road which is neither narrow nor wide.
I carry my light and I walk on, and on.
Also published on Medium.
Thanks Ruby for sharing this. I’m interested in understanding more about the light you’ve found. I get that this might be tricky because you do say that you don’t know where it came from and don’t know what it is but I thought i’d ask anyway :-). Feel free to point me to other stuff you’ve written if you think that’ll help.
Hi Liam,
Thanks for reading and for your comment.
I think the light for me has come from education – reading books like Sapiens and 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, both by Harari. It’s been through meeting those from other cultures and other faiths, who uphold their religion as much as I once upheld mine (if not more so!).
There are so many things I cannot reconcile with the Bible and, in particular, with common Christian teaching. Even things like hell. This series helped that: https://medium.com/@BrazenChurch/hell-a-biblical-staple-the-bible-never-actually-mentions-c28b18b1aaaa?fbclid=IwAR0q1Lz5gzoDfa5pZVztTO7Xt8aDkeiU3BPi16q2-GnOnNQdHm8_FX9UrEU
I also find serving others is just as rewarding and just as necessary outside the church context. I now have time for that, and that brightens my light even more.
I’m still figuring it out. It’s a long journey, but I feel so secure in it.
Thanks again! Feel free to email if you have any other questions.
Ruby
Thanks Ruby for taking the time to reply.
Thank you for your post, it really resonates with me. I’m still searching that light.
It’s good to see that there’s others out there seeing the same things and experiencing the same thigns that I am and that you can grow through it.
I’m wondering if there is any place you found to build up a sense of community which you’ve left behind, do you know something like that?