Christianity Unraveled

January 1st, 2020

At the beginning of each new year, I pick a word to speak over it (like many people now). Before, I would always pray and ask God what it was, and then use the first word I felt the Spirit say. Those moments were beautiful, and even though I am not now convinced that they were words sent from the Most High themself, each was significant and lived its time.

Two years past the word was "Generosity." It taught me the value of truly and reflexively giving without bitterness, and it allowed my heart to become more open-handed. Much more was broken and grown through this word, but time does not allow for those to be remembered or written.

Last January brought the word "Prepared." At the beginning I didn't particularly want it and thought little of it. Yet, at the end of the year, I look back and realize that it was true. It was perhaps a foreshadowing of all the change I am being brought through, because I was finally ready for this change to come. If I weren't prepared, the thoughts I have could have broken me much worse than they are doing now, if they would have even happened in the first place. It could have also been an indicator that I was finally ready for a relationship, and that my heart and his were prepared for each other. Who truly knows, but I am apt to believe both.

And this all brings us to this year. This year, I didn't want to ask God for a word, so I didn't even try to ask. Perhaps I'll look back at this sentence and recoil, but it is the truth nonetheless.

I was driving home to my family today after spending the weekend with my partner's family, so I had four hours of silence to think to myself. Within those four hours, most of it was wasted on not thinking or singing to myself, but part of it was devoted to thinking about the new year. I remembered that I usually have a word, and even though I am not positive anymore about what I believe, I still wanted to have a word to proclaim over the new year. Thus, I came to the word that I've been needing lately: Space.

Why space? Well, frankly put, I need it. I need a lot of it. While perhaps I need space away from people (which happens often as I tend to lock myself in my room and stop talking to my friends for days or weeks), what I have been finding is that I truly need space with people.

I need space with my friends to talk about what I am thinking without them thinking that I need fixing and that eventually, if they care for me well enough, I will return to the same thoughts and beliefs we had together. I need space with my family to not feel afraid to tell them about my now perhaps heretical belief system (though it is still very much in its refining stages). I need space to be with people who are thinking the same questions as me. I need space, an unconditional merciful space with people.

And if I need space, maybe others need it too.

With this all said, the word for my year shall be space, and I am excited to work toward it. Yes, I will attempt to find space for myself, but more than that I will work toward providing space for everyone. My hope is to create the space for people. My hope is to prepare the space to people, to bring it to the open with vulnerability in my own thoughts and questions. My hope is to multiply the space. The all inclusive space. The space for hope. The space with doubts, with questions, with a desire for answers and with an understanding that not all questions will have those. The space for everyone. The space where everyone can be heard, listened to, and appreciated. The space where all belong.

My hope for 2020 is this space. Overwhelming, never-ending, unconditional space for each person. Warm, welcoming, space that always leaves room for more at the table. Space that invites, encourages, and empathizes. Space that is constant and open, and space that is comforting, respectful, and safe. Space that adds an extra leaf and chair to the table and voice to the conversation. Space that is marked by radical genuineness and reflexive generosity. Space for all.

And so, I will leave you with the words I hope to remind each person I have the pleasure of being around: There is always space for you. You are always welcome at my table that I hope to be free of exclusion or judgement. You will be heard, you will be valued, and you will never, never be a burden.

There is always space for you. Always.