I remember a particular favorite pair of jeans that I had as a teen. Unlike most of my thrift store finds, these were an expensive name brand and to this young teen who desperately wanted to be cool, those jeans were the ticket. It didn’t matter that they were hand-me-downs from another pastor’s kid. I was going to be cool. Finally.
But alas. Those were the years that I was experiencing rapid growth spurts and after just a few months, those cool jeans weren’t so cool anymore because they were a bit too short. I tried to pull them down on my hips to make them a little longer, but capris weren’t in style yet and my mom wasn’t exactly a fan of low-riders. My ticket to teenage coolness had failed me.
While my growth spurt days are years in the past now, this image came back to me recently as I was chatting with a friend. “I’m more in love with Jesus than I’ve ever been and yet the forms of faith that I’ve practiced no longer fit me.” When I shared that statement, my mind immediately went back to a dream that a dear friend had months earlier.
In the dream, she saw me standing in a Walmart. I was standing in front of clothes racks, picking out new clothes. She didn’t know fully what the dream meant but I began to pray about what it might mean. It wasn’t until this moment that it clicked.
My faith no longer fits. Just like that pair of jeans that I outgrew, my faith was growing and the forms that once were sufficient no longer seemed expansive enough. What if the answer was not found in continuing to wear a faith that no longer fits, but to adopt a new style of faith? What if the restlessness that had begun to crescendo in my heart was an invitation to discover God in new ways? Am I willing to adopt a style of worship that is different from those that I know around me? Am I willing to accept a more spacious faith that has room for different forms of expression?
What if the invitation of a faith that no longer fits is towards discovering God, even if that means expanding the ways in which I relate to him? What if God might be using the angst that I feel to prepare me to embrace something new? What if faith wasn’t designed to retain the same forms for my whole life, but instead to be active and alive — always growing, changing, and morphing?
What if faith wasn’t designed to retain the same forms for my whole life, but instead to be active and alive — always growing, changing, and morphing?
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I grew up with a faith that was stable and secure. It was characterized by very clear teachings on what was right and wrong. There was very little room for ambiguity. We had an answer for everything, including the length of your pant’s hem. This certainty was comforting, until questions began to arise.
It was then that I received contradictory messages. Explicitly I heard that you should always speak the truth and that questions were welcomed. But then I saw that when people shared their real questions, they were either shut up with a pithy quote; looked down upon; or outright rejected. I saw how people who were honest with their spiritual journeys were only celebrated as long as it fit within the box of what the church required. I saw how those who questioned were labeled as troublemakers and compromisers.
As I began to encounter Christians in various cultures around the world, it began to challenge the legalism of my faith. I’ll never forget being in the Middle East and partaking of communion, only to be shocked that the grape juice had a certain zing to it. Yes, it was the first time I ever tasted wine. I thought any alcoholic beverage was off limits to Christians. I mean, we were taught that Jesus didn’t turn the water to actual wine, but rather to grape juice.
In graduate school, I studied the intersection of faith and culture across the world. It was even more challenging to the faith that I was raised in. Here were people who held many different styles of faith and yet all professed allegiance to Jesus. Along the way, as I began to journey with Christians from many different cultures and theological distinctions, I became convinced that my style of faith wasn’t the only one, but rather God was big enough for all cultures to encounter Jesus without having to become acculturated to my culture and preferences.
So I have to ask myself — am I holding onto the “cool” jeans of faith that once served me well, or am I open to accepting new ways of knowing God that fit the season that I am currently in? Am I submitted to God, even if it means being led out into a new way of knowing God?
Right now, silence and solitude fit more than loud worship sets and fiery preaching. I long for Communion, more than for church potluck dinners. Liturgy accompanies extemporaneous prayers. I delight in seeing Jesus not only in Scripture, but also in the faces of the marginalized. I enjoy experiencing the beauty of Jesus as I hike, run, or bike in nature.
I have a sneaking suspicion that the life of faith that God invites me into might include changing the styles of how I interact with him from time to time. I just want to be more in love with Jesus than I am the style of how I worship Him. Even when it means giving up my ticket to coolness.
P.S. — If you’d like another take on this topic with more practical guidance, check out this article from Shauna Niequist.