by: Laura Farhy

It’s Easter morning, and there’s a twinge of sadness that I feel, yes, because of the reality of what happened to Jesus, but also because I feel like a nomad. I’m not really sure where I belong anymore. Yet, I’m okay with that. 

Before I deconstructed, I had a church home. I had a community that I belonged to. And I am grateful that I had a church that wasn’t as nefarious as the other ones people are deconstructing from. However, sometimes I miss my former life. Sometimes I miss the world I used to know. Probably because it seemed safer than the unknown of my current reality and more predictable than the circumstances I am currently facing. 

To be transparent, we do visit a local church from time to time. But I still feel like I’m trying to play on a playground that I’ve outgrown. I’m wearing shoes that just don’t fit anymore. It’s not that I find traditional church services immoral. I think if you are happy and feel connected to God in your church, you should stay. I’m not against organized religion. I am just against the byproduct of it capitalizing on the relationship and presentation of God’s voice for the sake of controlling and abusing people. 

I suppose it is a lot like being recently divorced and attending wedding ceremonies. It just hits differently. 

You are allowed to grieve the life you used to live while also accepting that it no longer serves you. You’ve outgrown the space you used to live in. You are a hermit crab. You must find a new shell to live in. 

Then, I remember today. 

The women who clung to Jesus’ feet, as he took his final breath, and then hid in their homes, wondering if the same would be done to them. On Easter morning, they had nowhere to belong either. Ostracized by the Jewish church for following Jesus, terrified of the Romans who had crucified their leader, they were outcasts too. I think that’s kind of the point. 

When we look at what Jesus really stood for… it wasn’t to fit in. It was to stand out. We are not meant to be the grain; we are meant to go against the grain. Because many people living with splinters are trying to work with a fractured grain for the sake of belonging. But our courage to step into the unknown is what shapes us. Even exiles can find purpose, and out of the wilderness, new belonging can emerge. I may not know where I belong yet, but I am moving forward, steadfast and hopeful all the same.