You belong.
Leaving behind the rigid binaries of fundamentalism to discover a spirituality rooted in grace,
Embodiment,
And belonging.
I grew up in a fundamentalist evangelical Pentecostal church where God was presented through rigid binaries and as someone to fear.
Be good,
Or go to hell.
Be pure,
Believe the right things,
Live the right way,
And pray hard enough.
If you were unwell,
Depressed,
Poor,
Or struggling,
Perhaps you simply weren't believing enough.
As a queer child sitting in those pews,
This message created a deep,
Quiet terror.
I learned that I was sinful,
Shameful,
And unworthy,
And that belonging depended on becoming someone other than myself.
When I came out in my early 20s,
Those messages were amplified.
Religion and spirituality became unsafe.
And I learned to hide parts of myself in order to fit in.
I also learned to distrust my inner knowing.
Especially when it challenged what I had been taught.
For years,
I carried that spiritual hypervigilance.
I explored meditation,
Yoga,
And Eastern philosophies.
But a quiet tension towards Christianity remained.
It wasn't until Brené Brown's work introduced me to Franciscan friar Richard Rohr that I began to imagine another possibility.
What if the God of my childhood wasn't the only way of understanding God?
Rohr's teachings offered a radical alternative.
A God of love rather than punishment.
Original blessing rather than original sin.
And scripture as an invitation to wonder,
Rather than a rulebook demanding and questioning obedience.
Soon I was reading Cynthia Bourgeault and James Finlay and eventually found my way to the Center for Action and Contemplation.
When the opportunity arose to spend a year in the CAC Living School,
I signed up immediately.
I couldn't yet say the word God without feeling a shiver.
And I hadn't set foot in a church for decades.
But something drew me toward this community.
Within the first week,
The school shared a simple welcome message.
It named people across gender identities,
Sexual orientations,
Cultures,
Abilities,
And spiritual experiences.
It welcomed grief,
Disappointment,
Self-doubt,
And those who felt broken or lost.
Than it said simply.
You belong.
I sat at my desk and sobbed.
For the first time in my life,
I felt the possibility that belonging wasn't something I had to earn.
Growing up,
Authority was always external.
I was taught to trust scripture,
Church leaders,
And the adults who knew what was best for me.
My feelings,
Desires,
Intuitions,
And experiences were often dismissed as childish,
Selfish,
Or unreliable.
Yet I knew things.
I knew something about me was different.
I knew some of what I was being taught was harmful.
I knew that appearances did not always match what was happening beneath the surface.
But I trained myself to ignore that inner voice.
Early in the living school,
Rohr introduced the image of a tricycle,
With tradition,
Scripture,
And experience represented by its three wheels.
In my childhood,
Scripture and tradition steered aggressively,
While experience was tossed aside.
The Living School invited me to put experience back on the frame.
To recognize my own lived reality as a sacred site of truth.
This became one of the central journeys of my year.
Learning to believe myself.
Through somatic practices,
Silence,
And long walks in nature,
I began shifting out of my analytical head and into my body.
I noticed my feet on the ground,
The air on my skin.
The physical weight of sadness or exhaustion.
Instead of judging my internal landscape or trying to fix it instantly,
I learn to sit with it and whisper,
Welcome.
I believe you.
This was more than a mindfulness practice.
It was a way of welcoming myself home.
For most of my life,
I had attuned outward.
Monitoring the emotional temperature of every room,
And anticipating what others needed.
The Living School helped me build what Roshi Joan Halifax calls a strong back and a soft front.
Staying compassionate and open while rooted firmly in my own boundaries and inner wisdom.
I began to realize that self-trust isn't the opposite of spirituality.
It's how spirituality becomes embodied.
Over the course of the year,
My image of the Divine broke open entirely.
I encountered a God of grace,
Inclusion,
And deep rest.
I heard and finally received the truth that I was a blessing from the very beginning.
I didn't need to perform to earn love.
I was already loved.
This freedom allowed me to examine the origins of my childhood faith.
How did the God I learned about come into existence?
What roles have power,
Empire,
Money,
Domination,
And fear played in religious history?
Why have violence,
Colonization,
Racism,
Sexism,
And homophobia so often been enacted in the name of God?
The Living School didn't offer easy answers.
Instead,
It taught us that the quest is in the questions.
I realized that faith does not require certainty.
And no single tradition holds a monopoly on truth.
I could reclaim the language of my upbringing without accepting the toxicity attached to it.
The questions themselves became a form of liberation.
And so I walked.
I walked among trees,
Birds,
Insects,
Water,
Wind,
And sunlight.
I noticed children laughing and crying.
Strangers passing on the path.
And the countless forms of life unfolding around me.
Nature became my sanctuary.
A place where I could feel the presence of a higher power without forcing an answer or demanding resolution.
I learned to let mystery be mystery.
Through walking,
Journaling,
Prayer,
And reflection.
I came to know a different God.
Not a God waiting to punish me.
But a God in whom I could rest.
A God who held me through uncertainty.
A God whose love was not dependent on my performance,
Purity,
Beliefs,
Or ability to get things right.
I found what I had actually been searching for all along.
Not absolute certainty.
But quiet trust.
I entered the living school hoping it would help me discover what was mine to do in the world.
It didn't present me with a grand plan.
But it gave me something better.
Clarity on what brings me alive.
I come alive in writing,
Deep listening,
Spiritual exploration,
Meaningful conversation.
And creating spaces where people can strip off their armor and be honest about their lives.
I long to build or participate in communities where people feel safe to question,
Wonder,
Grieve,
And discover what is emerging within them.
Communities rooted in compassion,
Inclusion,
Diversity.
And the understanding that no one needs to hide parts of themselves to belong.
I still don't know the exact shapes or titles for what comes next.
That uncertainty might once have felt like a failure.
Today,
I see it as part of the journey.
I am a seeker,
And I no longer feel the urge to pretend I've arrived.
I entered the living school as a lone wolf.
But I leave it knowing I cannot do this alone.
Solitude and silence will always be vital to my soul.
But I deeply need community,
Fellow travelers willing to stay present for vulnerable,
Meaningful conversations about life and spirit.
The course has ended,
But the invitation remains.
I hope to carry forward the practices of listening inwardly.
Resting in love.
Questioning inherited beliefs.
And trusting the wisdom that emerges through experience.
I want to keep learning without rushing towards certainty.
And I want to keep deepening trust in myself,
Trust in God,
And trust in the unfolding of my life.
I began this journey believing I had to justify myself to a God who had rejected me.
Instead,
I discovered an acceptance and love that had never left.
If you've experienced a shift in your own spiritual journey or understanding of faith.
What moment or practice helped you start trusting your inner voice again?
With warmth and gratitude.
