Answering The Door When The Past Knocks

There is a lot about my childhood that I am more than thrilled to leave behind, including most aspects of the Evangelical/Fundamentalist faith. 90 percent of the time, when I look back on my childhood, I am glad that it is in the past and I am glad that the faith of my youth, no longer exists. I am glad to let go of a tyrannical, violent, angry God and embrace a God that is loving and inclusive.  

However, I would be lying if I said there weren’t aspects of my childhood faith, I do miss. The reality is I miss the certainty. I miss the idea that if I do a, b, and c, then God will do d, e, f. I even miss the idea that bad things occurred because satan was testing me. For some reason that makes the difficulties of life more bearable, because on the one hand, it acknowledges the reality that sometimes shit happens outside of our control, and two satan is a figure that seems much easier to vanquish than say systemic racism, sexism, or poverty.  

Now you might be wondering, what is bringing up this sort of nostalgia for a faith that I know is harmful and that did cause me a lot of pain growing up? The reality is the past keeps knocking in the form of dreams and I am debating whether or not to open the door.

I keep having dreams that feature my childhood best friend from that church. Most of the time, she doesn’t cross my mind unless I am looking at old photos. But occasionally, when I am stressed, when life feels uncertain, and when I feel isolated,  she will haunt my dreams or rather the version of her that I knew when I was a teenager. Some people think that would be a sign to reach out, but I do not. I think that would be weird and creepy. Of course, I hope she is safe and happy. But who she is now, is a stranger. I think my subconscious is using my childhood friend to encourage me to interrogate my past.

Growing up she was one of a handful of friends I had. I was painfully shy on the one hand, but also opinionated and abrasive on the other, (still am, but I think I’ve gotten slightly better at pretending to be otherwise, at least in person. Online is a whole different ball game). I was also struggling heavily with mental illness and with the ramifications of an abusive/neglectful childhood. I didn’t have many people to turn to other than my few close friends and God.  

When I think of who she was in my life back then, I think of someone who accepted me, whose kindness helped me to want to do and be better, who reassured me of God’s love for me. Her friendship was a lifeline in a difficult time. I don’t want to go back to my childhood faith for many reasons, but when I look back at the good aspects of my childhood faith, it is tied to my friendship with her. So it makes sense that when I am struggling with life in general, my unconsciousness would go back to a time period that although was difficult-had a measure of certainty. And that’s what my childhood friendship represents: the aspects of Evangelical Christianity that enabled me to survive, that provided me comfort and safety.  

Again, I love my adult, progressive Christian faith. And some of the aspects that I love most about it, are also some of the things that cause me to struggle. I love how open and expansive this adult faith is, but in a world of uncertainty and danger, this faith doesn’t always feel safe or comforting. And let’s be honest, sometimes that is what’s needed. I love how this adult faith pushes back against simplistic cause and effect: ie bad things happen because people disobey God. 

 This adult faith has room for the reality that sometimes life just sucks for no clear reason or that there are structural issues: capitalism, violence, racism, sexism that can make life unbearable for many of us. And yet those forces seem intractable and undefeatable and this faith doesn’t provide a clear road map about how to defeat those forces. Meanwhile, it’s pretty easy to defeat satan: focus on God, pray, fast, accept Fundamentalist Christian beliefs... 

The dreams of my childhood friend represent the need for a faith that makes me feel safe, stable, and certain. Yes, yes, I understand faith can and should be risky, and should most definitely challenge the oppressive status quo. I am not denying any of that. And the reality is that it is a human need, to also desire a faith that brings hope and assurance.  

So how do I create a progressive faith that is open to mystery and uncertainty and that also fosters a sense of hope and assurance? Are there nuggets of assurances within my adult faith that I can focus on, without having it tip over to the harsh, overly critical, Fundamentalist faith of my childhood? Are there ways to take the good aspects of my childhood faith-represented in my dreams by my childhood friend, and incorporate it, into my adult faith?  

What I need to figure out is how to keep the expansive, inclusive, open-to-mystery adult faith, and combine it with the positive aspects of my childhood faith that made me feel loved and safe. That will require me to do a deep dive into my childhood beliefs and re-evaluate them. I think I have, for the most part, discarded the harmful beliefs and theologies. But perhaps I have also discarded some of the good. I’ll spend some time on substack exploring my past. At the very least…maybe the dreams will stop. They aren’t unpleasant but being haunted by figures of one’s past does not necessarily lead to restful sleep.

Note: It has taken all my strength to not quote angsty Taylor Swift lyrics about relationships falling apart because as I mentioned in the post, I don’t think the point of my childhood friend showing up in my dreams is to resurrect a dead friendship. I don’t think it’s to try and get to know the person she is now. Rather I think she, or rather the younger version I knew, represents a sense of safety and acceptance that I need to reflect on. Yet the temptation to scatter my substack posts with Taylor Swift songs about lost relationships is strong. I will try to shield you, dear reader, from that.  

Image: White background, with sea glass scattered around. Text: How do I create a progressive faith that is open to mystery and uncertainty and that also fosters a sense of hope and assurance?