The Name I Never Thought I’d Lose

It’s been about 13 years since I first earned the reputation of a “backslider”.

It’s been only about one year of them maybe being right.

The first 6 or 7 years relegated to an outlier was really difficult. I was constantly misrepresented, lied about and betrayed by the church. What made it even worse was that while they were busy branding me a heathen, ironically I was busy working hard to be a better Christian. The very things I believed Jesus called me to love were the same things the church hated me for.

You see, I had discovered the teachings of Jesus that the church buried and kept hidden, and it set my soul on fire. Once I saw this side of Jesus there was no going back – values like social justice, welcoming the foreigner, caring for the poor, not accruing wealth, sharing resources, interdependent living, and practicing non-violence – it all spoke to me powerfully.

There grew in me a deep burning passion to practice these tenets BECAUSE of my faith, not in spite of it.

And yet most of the Christians I knew were wary at best and horrified at worst. To some, I was most certainly influenced by the devil.

It’s true I was frustrated and upset with the church, sure, but it was because they weren’t being Christlike, not because I didn’t want Christ.

Making these changes to my life was extremely costly but I continued to push forward in radical obedience. I paid the cost for it because I was so deeply convicted it was the right way. Doing the right thing was always worth it, or so I had been taught.

And yet to these Christians I was taking the easy route, giving in to worldly temptations and desires.

Believe me, there was nothing easy about letting my faith dictate my life.

I lost my status, I lost my friends, I lost my job, I lost the closeness of my family for a long time.

And yet to all of them I was doing the popular thing, taking the wide road.

But there was nothing popular about my convictions; I was the most hated and shunned person in town.

The harder I tried to be good, the more sinful they said I was.

I would have stayed and tried to help make the church better because I loved the church. I tried that for as long as I could. But it was Christians who ultimately made me leave.

I deeply believed that at the core of Christianity was the call to community, but I was ostracized from my Christian community and oftentimes had to go it alone.

I do believe there is a remnant of true Christ-followers living out their faith by making a positive difference in the world. They are the ones who inspired me for so long, but in the end it wasn’t enough.

I kept the name Christian for years after deconstructing and I thought I would forever – even if I had to strip away almost everything recognizable.

I clung to the last shreds of that identity because the teachings of Christ truly blow my mind and healthy Christian community has radically shaped my life in the most positive ways. But ultimately, retaining my faith was like trying to hold sand between my fingers. Eventually it all slipped out.

I never thought I would lose a part of myself that used to be everything.

I will always respect progressive Christians, but I reached a point of realizing that when it becomes more rare to see a Christian bringing good into the world than it is to see one spreading hate, it’s not something I want to be associated with.

I feel when it is more surprising when Christians act Christlike than like what they preach against, there is no point to me sifting through the ashes trying to find a few flakes of gold.

When I am more damaged and scarred from Christianity than I am healed and transformed, it’s just not worth it.

When the explanation and disclaimer I have to give for my faith is more extensive than the faith itself, nothing is left.

“Christian” is a name I never thought I would lose, but ultimately it was Christians who took it from me.

And you know what? They can have it.