New Beginnings
Why I’ve been gone, and why I am returning.
There’s an ache.
There is an ache in my bones to contribute; to create; to write; to speak.
I am back. It has been so long since I’ve written for this blog, and I am ready to return. I am ready to write. I am ready to continue sharing my story with you, as imperfect as it may be.
Sometimes it’s not until things fall apart, and everything that was comfortable is stripped away, until we can really see what it is that drives our spirits, what makes us have a fervor for life, and what is worth reclaiming for our holistic well-being.
Deconstruction is hard and messy. I know the whole point of my starting this blog was to have a space to process the arduous theological shifts that were occurring in my life. I was excited to be a voice writing content in the middle of their deconstruction, rather than at the end, in hopes of offering many people in the same spot a bit of relief knowing they weren’t the only ones asking the tough questions; the people stuck in the middle ground, trying to figure out what it means to process life and faith differently, and how to love people in the mess of it all.
Why I’ve been gone.
My departure from and return to this blog needs to be prefaced by a story that gives context in explaining why I stopped in the first place:
See, I went to an evangelical Christian college. I have mixed feelings about my time there; thinking back, there are good and bad memories sprinkled everywhere. It was such a transformative time in my life. When I was first admitted into the school, I decided to double major in Preaching and Church Leadership and Communications and Media. I had already come out to my family as gay a few years prior, but had gone back in the closet before starting school because I was what they call “Side B” on the homosexuality and same-sex attraction debate. Between my sophomore and junior years, certain college courses and personal life experiences began to change my mind. I became affirming of myself, affirming of others in the LGBTQIA+ community, and came back out to my family.
It was terrifying and liberating all at the same time.
In the fall and spring semesters of my junior year, I needed to start planning my internships. Since I was double-majoring, I was hoping to do them both that next summer and kill two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, that’s not how things turned out. I could only complete my Communications and Media internship at Watershed in Charlotte that next summer. So, if I wanted to continue with my Preaching and Church Leadership degree, I would’ve had to extend my time at the university for an extra semester and summer.
I had no problem with the extra time itself; the problem I had was having to hide the fact that I was affirming of myself and dating men for another year; the thought of that was unbearable.
It is a soul-crushing task to be forced to hide your true self from people for such an extended amount of time. So, I decided to drop the Preaching and Church Leadership degree altogether for fear of getting caught and kicked out of my alma mater, which leads me to my next point:
When I started this blog, I was still heavily in the middle of deconstruction. After studying theology full-time in college, I was excited to have the freedom to explore different ways of interpreting scripture and theological standpoints, but my brain needed a break. Paul says to “pray without ceasing…” well, I was asking questions without ceasing. Nothing is wrong with that, but it became exhausting for me, sucking the joy out of my life. So last summer, I decided I needed a break from it all. I needed to theologically decompress because so much was shifting all at once…
My views on…
- Heaven and Hell.
- Scripture.
- Jesus.
- Atonement Theories
Literally everything was up for debate.
So, I rested and rested until I became disinterested in thinking about theology altogether. Nothing is wrong with that at all, and some people never reconstruct, and that is okay, but I was finding myself recently starved for spiritual conversation.
Another reason I stopped writing was because I was so scared of showing how theologically liberal I had become. It would shock my home church. I am 100% sure that Christians I grew up around would not call me a Christian anymore… hell, I don’t even know what to call myself.
Maybe a human trying to love other humans.
After all, I think that is what it is all about. I think that is why Jesus was so impactful. He loved. He loved with no conditions. His love is expansive. His love is inclusive.
There are still fears in writing, though. Creative endeavors are some of the most vulnerable, according to Brené Brown, and I wholeheartedly agree. You are laying your heart and work bare for the world to see. Thoughts like these could bounce around my head all day:
- “What if no one cares what I have to say?”
- “What if people think I am woefully misguided?”
- “What if I am rusty since I haven’t been thinking about theology for over a year?”
- “What if I am too liberal for some?”
- “Too conservative for others?”
I can’t control anyone’s reaction or thoughts, but I can no longer silence myself out of fear of what others may think. My whole body yearns to create and I am here.
Why I am returning.
This year has put me through the wringer, as it has for all of us, and this morning I took some time to contemplate on the things that bring me life, joy, and a sense of purpose. This was prompted by the fact that I may have to look for another job again soon, and that terrifies me.
Currently, I am on our family farm, visiting with family in Kentucky. I decided to start my day by grabbing a hot vanilla latte from Harden Coffee (because we love to support local) and taking an early-morning stroll; attempting to be present, in an other-wise hectic time in my life. It was important for me to intentionally carve out time to soak in the beauty of a place that is so dear to my heart. I grew up here. So many memories live here. Untold amounts of laughter. Uncountable tears. Game nights. Four-wheeler rides. Thousands of meals shared.
As I was walking this morning, I started listening to a podcast by Jen Hatmaker. The special guest was Barbara Brown Taylor. They were talking about life and faith, and I started sobbing. Why was I so emotional? Because I am at this crossroads in my life. I realize just how important it is for me to create, to speak, and to write. Without creating, I feel empty, like I am wasting my days. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and ponder the impact I could’ve made in someone’s else’s, had I only had enough discipline to sit down and write, share, create, and get past the fears and false narratives running through my head. No, I want to get in the arena and live life to the fullest. Hearing people like Jen Hatmaker, Brené Brown, and Pete Enns generate content and share their hearts with others on topics that matter and are thought-provoking, sparks this deep desire inside me to follow in their footsteps.
So, this morning as I was trying to find a pathway in my career, I was grieving, given the story about dropping one of my majors in college.
I grieve that I had a life plan; a good life plan that went off the rails, all because of my sexuality and wanting a space to challenge the status quo. I went to school to pastor. I still have a pastor’s heart, and some of my favorite moments are still talking about faith with people, showing people that God’s kingdom is more expansive and inclusive than we ever imagined. I want to help walk people through past religious trauma. Unfortunately, though, most churches would shut me out because I’m still processing my faith, working out what it looks like to recover from religious trauma, and am open to new ways of being a Jesus follower. I grieve that my life plan has gone off the tracks. Something I thought God was going to take care of.
But,
This has purpose.
There is Spirit here.
There is life here.
Even in the waiting.
Even in the uncertainty.
This life I was passionate about and wanted to be involved in was denied me, because I came from denominations that say I don’t belong as I am.
Many churches don’t hold space for pastors trying to figure it out. The pastor is the one who is supposed to have their theology worked out, carved in stone, very sure of the truth… (if there even is such a thing as absolute truth); not someone whose opinion can change quickly with the persuasion of hearing a story from someone with a different experience. The pastor’s heart doesn’t seem to be enough. I am too gay, too questioning, and too far from orthodoxy to fit in anywhere as a pastor, unless I started my own church or found the church few and far between that allows you to process and even wonder if you are a Christian anymore (at least how you used to define it).
I am writing again because I realize there is an ache in my bones to create and process. Even if only one person reads my content and gets hope and comfort from my words, that is enough. Even though I may not be a pastor in the traditional sense, I could possibly be a “digital pastor,” a term I believe was coined by someone I look up to, Kevin Garcia. That sounds great. I would love that. I would love to help people process what is happening in their lives, theologically and relationally.
So I welcome everyone here. Everyone questioning. Everyone sure and unsure of what life and faith looks like to them:
- Atheists.
- Agnostics.
- Muslims.
- Christians.
- Catholics.
- Baptists.
- Unitarian Universalists.
- The successful.
- The downtrodden.
- The questioners.
- The seekers.
- The wanderers.
- The marginalized.
You name it…
Blessed are we who do not have life, faith, or even our next week figured out, for we are children of God. We are worthy, and we belong.
Thanks, Nadia Bolz-Weber, for the inspiration on that make-shift beatitude.
I just want to walk this journey and learn how to love people better. So here we go. Let’s do the work.
Deconstruction is hard and scary and even made me shut up for a while, but I am coming back. I am coming back to my purpose. I am coming back to myself. I am showing up. I am being vulnerable, and I am going to take in life and process it here for others to read.
Fall is a fitting season for this new beginning to occur, because it reminds us that we can let go. We can let go of the harsh expectations we place on ourselves. We can let go of the fear of not getting it right. We can let go of perfection. We can let go of how we thought things should’ve been, because as we let go, we realize something is making a way for new life to emerge; back, and better than before.
So, as I begin again, though much has changed, I will start with the same question from the end of my first blog, because beyond everything that has shifted, of this I still have conviction: “We’re all theologians. Will you choose to be a deliberative one?”
Written by: Cameron Jeffries
