Lent, Day 6: The Displaced
One of the deepest sadnesses I bear is for all the folks of my heart community, near and far, who are profoundly spiritual but have had to leave their religious traditions or institutions. They were on my mind Monday morning when I picked up a stone and wrote across it, “Those Spiritually Displaced.”
There’s a lot of displacement happening these days in my local community and personal tradition, but the past several years have found me connecting more and more with people in different states and countries, some belonging to very different denominations or traditions, who are experiencing the same thing.
Let me clarify: I use the phrase “spiritually displaced” to define people who find they are unable to continue participating in the spiritual communities with which they still share meaningful connections. This has often occurred because of ideological or social divides, or because of direct or indirect harm happening within the institution or local community.
The most prevalent narratives about those deconstructing tend to be very harsh, unhelpful, and often untrue: Among other things, I’ve encountered unfair characterizations such as lazy, weak, depraved, faithless, wayward, or unintelligent. On the contrary, people in my life who have deconstructed have overwhelmingly proven to be deeply conscientious, courageous, discerning, honest, and empathetic people with strongly held convictions.
Despite possessing such worthy qualities, and embodying contributions valuable for any community, they have found themselves (not abandoning all beliefs, but) having to abandon the institutions or communities where they had been engaging in spiritual pursuit and shared life. In some instances, they have even been the abandoned ones, pushed out of communion when they couldn’t conform to a way of thinking or wouldn’t submit themselves to a damaging situation.
I don’t mean to paint with broad strokes. I realize such things are extremely variable and require nuance: deconstruction happens for many different reasons and has many different representations. Don’t misunderstand me as speaking for every person who has deconstructed or left a Church community. Instead, hear me say that I am plainly referencing at least a dozen very specific individuals of personal acquaintance who share this heartbreaking commonality: they have all experienced grievous loss of spiritual community due to thoughtful discernment of and refusal to abandon essential Faith-based convictions. These are folks whose pursuit of God and experience of the Divine have put them at odds with the religious institutions that, in many cases, have been foundational to their lives and relationships: and so, they find themselves left to pursue God without the support, care, and accountability of a spiritual family—or at the very least, having to start from scratch to build a new one.
My concern for “those spiritually displaced” tends not to be about their beliefs or the way they live their lives, but about the deep woundedness they carry with them as a result of being abandoned or pushed away by those who should have made space for them, should have listened to them, given them voice, valued their questions and experiences, and incorporated them more intentionally into communal life for the edification of the whole Body.
My life has been incalculably enriched by the wisdom, sensitivity, and courage of friends who have left religious institutions because their love for themselves, fellow humans, and the world no longer aligned with the places they had once called spiritual homes. These dear ones have taken the isolation, grief, loss, and abandonment they have experienced and transformed them into belonging, comfort, advocacy, and an invitation of welcome into the heart of the Author of Love.
I can’t and won’t relinquish this stone. Though the weight is heavy because of the heartache, it’s such a privilege to carry these hearts together with my own heart that I’m hesitant to define the act as a “burden.” It’s an honor to be in the company of people committed to being conscientious and authentic despite the past, ongoing, and future costs. Their story, lived out-loud, inspires me to imitate their courage in following Love’s Leading within me, whatever end may come. In them, I see present-day reincarnations of all the doubting, struggling, pleading, uncertain, hopelessly real outliers that were seen being lavishly loved by Jesus—those who had to place their hands in His scars to believe; secretly grasped for healing at His hem from the dirt; cried “belief” and “unbelief” in the same breath; and held His hand to stride atop the waves just before betraying him three times in a row for fear of joining Him on death row.
Take heart, you weary and beloved ones, if you are feeling marginalized, forgotten, doubted, and disparaged. It was and still is society’s displaced that He chooses to place within His embrace.
Today, I hold this stone to my heart and whisper the names of those who grieve the loss of their spiritual communities. May I be a place of safety and welcome for those who have been so displaced. For individuals who, this day, are feeling alone, betrayed, and lost: guide them deeper and deeper into your Heart, O Lord, to assure them with a tangible sense of their belonging in You. Preserve them in transition, even as you make a way for them to be connected with and established in a healthy and loving community.
