The path of a pioneer can feel profoundly lonely at times. I'm sure many of you can relate. There are those stand alone moments when you look around you and there's no one else in sight on the path you're on. It's a very isolating experience, one that just comes with the territory. And anyone who ever challenged the status quo and pushed back knows it well.
Maybe you're going after emotional health and intelligence in a stoic and disconnected culture. Maybe you're breaking out of the group-think mentality and asking questions that no one else is. Maybe the thoughts and ideas you're expressing is unsettling to the pseudo-security of others. Maybe you're imagining, innovating and instigating change to longstanding norms or dysfunctions. Maybe you've decided to change the trajectory of your family line. Or maybe you're breaking some boxes and starving the system. Whatever it is you're going after, I know it hasn't been easy for you. It's especially challenging because the path itself hasn't been worn in, in fact as yet, no path even exists. The task of pioneering requires profound persistence and venturing into the unchartered requires profound courage. To add resistance to an already arduous journey makes saying yes to this mission not for the faint of heart. The fact that you're even walking this out speaks volumes of the greatness inside you. Here's what I am learning though, there is purpose in the opposition. Don't resist the resistance. I believe its purpose is to build in us the resilience and resolve needed to pioneer anything at all. Without it we would not have the robustness needed to handle what is sure to be a testing, strenuous and laborious journey. The wise of us lean in and allow the misunderstandings, the criticisms, the judgements, the labels and mistreatment to only strengthen our resolve. So heres the challenge, the temptation that comes to all path deviants is the temptation to get offended and critical towards anyone and everyone not journeying with us. This is particularly enticing in the wake of onslaught of covert and overt reproval. Friend and fellow trailblazer, I want to encourage you - giving way to bitterness and judgement only distracts us from the course we're on. And if left unchecked it will ultimately derail us from our mission altogether. If you can manage your heart well and extend mercy in the face of false accusation and the condemnation of others, you will find, in time, that you weren't the only one on your path. And instead of making common enemy allies (people who band together not for true connection but because they feel jaded by the same things), you'll find yourself surrounded by a remnant tribe of true leaders. And here's the best news, that loneliness you felt will be contrasted and far outweighed by the utter belonging. The sense of belonging that comes from being so intimately and experientially understood. These few that surround you now really get you, because just like you they have walked the pioneers path too.
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I remember the sheer awkwardness and unspeakable thrill of finding myself headlong in a Christian community for the first time at twenty. With the innocence and wonder of a newborn, wide eyed and blurry, I immediately began scanning the faces of people that I could identify with and become attached to.
All around me, a well established community of people deeply entrenched in their history, traditions, customs and unique culture. It was really hard. I felt like an outsider, unknown and alone no matter how welcoming people might have been. Yet it was the first time I had felt the hope of possibility, in time, would I have finally found my place in the world, my tribe, somewhere I could belong? At this point I am not willing to delve into the ins and outs of my experiences in a public forum. Rather, I would rather share some of what I felt, what I learnt and unlearnt, and what I’ve chosen along the way, so that you feel encouraged, equipped and accompanied on your own journey. I promise, you’re not the only one. See, if you’ve ever been a part of a Christian community for any substantial amount of time, you might be just like me — caught in the tension of both revelling in it and being repulsed by it. Longing for it and being left livid by it. Affectionately advocating for it, and also ardently advising against it. Pining for true connection but finding religion and politics instead. I did everything you’re told to do to feel a part of things. I went to studies, groups, led ministries and volunteered myself, attending, participating and contributing to every aspect of church life. For a while, a good while, I let myself believe that this pseudo community was the solution to the hardwired need written into my genetic code. Yet, underneath the busyness, I just couldn’t seem to shake this wistful longing, unappeased by all the activity I tried to stifle it with. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to locate the missing peace. It took me a long time to finally sit with my feelings, wrap verbiage around them and muster the courage to be really honest with myself. The blow of disappointment hit me like a wrecking ball to my core, it knocked the wind out of me. The mirage had promised so much, but had left me far more desperately thirsty than before. I just couldn’t accept that the shallow, transactional relationships I had invested a decade of my life in were as good as it gets. I communicated, I confronted and when all else failed, I continued to cultivate change in my own life. Still hoping that maybe the people around me would in time connect to themselves and find the same wistful longing I did, when I slowed the pace down enough to be able to see it clearly. We were made for togetherness — all the intentionality, time, effort, energy, investment, pain and joy that comes with it. Right from the onset, our Maker expressed that it wasn’t good for us to be alone. So, I allowed myself to be candidly honest with myself and address the soul destroying cultural norms and the disregarded dysfunctions that had masqueraded as virtues in Christian culture. I was already feeling lonely, but the tension of being pulled in two drastically contrast directions was too much to hold. On one hand I was choosing ideas, values and practices that were propelling me towards true connection, whilst simultaneously pushing back against the systems that unintentionally fostered disconnection. Brene Brown says that when we “fit in” as opposed to “belong”, we acclimate to the situation instead of standing for our authentic self. A compromise I was no longer willing to make. So what now? I would love to say that I moved on and found a healthy community and lived happily ever after, but that would be a big fat lie. Here’s what I’ve learnt: If community isn’t something you can find, it can be something you create. And, if you’re like me, a cultural architect, the blueprint you have in your heart probably doesn’t yet exist. If you are longing for community but can’t stomach the imitation versions, there’s hope. If the quest for community has indelibly gripped you, like a pilgrim seeking a new land, keep going until you find it, and if you don’t find it, find a vision for it and get to building. Every human has a story and a voice. Individually, collectively, generationally, historically — we all have a stories to tell.
We all have this innate need to be known, not from a distance, but up close, beyond the outer cover of our lives. We want the pages of who we are and how we got here to be read, understood and even hold significance. Yes, even the heavy chapters. A divine desire, to take the contents of our insides, the message of our life and share it with the world. Stories connect us humans to one another and to something greater, bigger, outside of ourselves. Think about it, no ones life has been unaffected by storytelling. In it, we find meaning and purpose, where we’ve come from, who we are, where we fit and where we belong in the world. We find ourselves in others and others in ourselves. But, as Donald Miller says, "storytelling is costly behaviour". Storytelling is directly linked to our sense of connection and belonging. High stakes: high anxiety. Maybe not everyone will understand, or even want to. Maybe people will disagree, judge, reject and criticise, both us and our message. And let’s be honest, pain hurts. Strangely, this is often perpetuated by the very people we are supposed to belong to. Sharing our story, our idea, our perspective, ourselves with the world is vulnerable. It is scary. No matter who you are or what medium you use to tell your story, whether it’s writing a song, making a movie, starting a business or having a family — telling your story is costly behaviour. Writing has been a fight for me. All the mud I trudged through to even have a story to tell. Like all good stories there is love, conflict, tension, surprise, character development, suspense and a dash of mystery. To tell it, I have sacrificed my sense of fitting in, for true belonging. See, eventually we must all come to the point of realisation, that while storytelling is costly, the price of silence is too expensive. And we must choose. Sure, some people have encouraged my storytelling, but only if it is in their words and on their terms. Others have echoed I am too young, uneducated, inexperienced, insignificant and unqualified to have a story. But still, here I am. With something to say. Afraid to say it. And somehow more afraid not to. N.T Wright says “Once the Word has become flesh, all the books in the world can’t do justice to it. Only flesh can: your flesh, my flesh”. So here is a written account of some of the pages of my life. My messy, imperfect, glorious contribution to the bigger story. Somehow I just know, people I have never met and people not born yet, will be grateful for what I say with my life. So here I am. Showing up. Shit scared. This is my story, so far. |
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