Heresy.
This word is terrifying for those of us raised within strict religious environments, where straying from traditional doctrine can lead to judgment, suspicion, and even abandonment.
I risk this everyday…all for the “sin” of trusting myself.
Coming of age in the final days of Second Wave Feminism, I had a vague notion that the fight for equality was over. My young self was strong and competent and believed there was nothing she couldn’t do. Yet, the influence of fundamentalism played a significant role in my identity formation, specifically its strict model of ideal Christian womanhood that valued deference, submission, and passivity. Women were seen as mentally and spiritually weak and in need of protection, justified by the belief that human thoughts, bodies, and hearts are evil and cannot be trusted.
Separated by some distance, it’s now easy to recognize this subtle and insidious form of benevolent sexism that stunts a woman’s ability to take ownership of her life or to think for herself. Back then, it was merely the status quo, where women were trained to look to fathers, pastors, and husbands instead of trusting themselves.
For many years, I was able to hold the paradox of myself as a strong, talented person with a certain amount of authority in my world, while also knowing that my choices and decisions needed a man’s stamp of approval. But after a midlife divorce ripped me from the warm cocoon of domesticity, that fundamentalist ideal became awkward and unsustainable. Like being roused from a sound sleep, I slowly became aware of how my childhood indoctrination had profoundly molded my identity and impacted my marriage, parenting, and vocation as a leader.
My religion had failed me, and I had to find out how. Central to my concerns were the competing messages of humanity’s depravity and goodness. I struggled to reconcile how, if humans were created in God’s image as very good, we could also be depraved from birth or how our hearts and minds could be viewed with suspicion if we are wonderfully made.
As my faith evolved, I moved away from static and dogmatic constructions of the God-human story toward a belief system that is more expansive, generative, and inclusive.
I began to cherish questions over answers and people over dogma.
I pushed back against the teachings of fundamentalism that suggested we cannot trust our hearts, minds, or emotions.
Though my internal struggle has been long and brutal, what has emerged is a deep trust in this earthen vessel that is wrapped in, and energized by, the divine—reason enough to give myself the same respect and trust I give in other relationships. Yet, seeing truth is one thing, but unlearning what was deep within my body is another. I sensed that the work to build trust in myself after years of neglect would be a gargantuan task.
To move from skepticism to trust happens when there is a track record of dependability, which didn’t exist for me. I had rarely given myself the opportunity to lead in any direction that didn’t mimic other people’s opinions, and those muscles of agency were seriously atrophied. I began by simply asking myself what I desired, which may be the most forbidden question a Christian woman can ask. Since being held captive to the mind, heart, and desires of God is a theological underpinning of my prior faith, personal longings were irrelevant. However, my commitment to recognize all of myself as holy meant that I had to turn my attention toward my desires, which would contain important clues as to who I am meant to be.
From these little exercises, the dominoes began to fall fast and hard. Each victory of courage for my heart and mind spurred another, and soon I found I was becoming my own best advisor.
Curiosity has become my primary guide on this journey of trust, as I try on and play with thoughts, ideas, directions, and behaviors. Similar to how an artist may begin a canvas by applying seemingly random layers of color as she follows her intuition, things gets messy, even ugly, but the process adds depth, beauty, complexity, and originality to the finished product.
Over the years, a type of tug-of-war has emerged that signals my growth. On one end, fear of what others think pulls mightily, while my confidence in myself pulls back on the other end. Fear wins less and less these days, and trusting myself feels less like heresy and more like an act of worship; a divine responsibility as the co-creator of my life.
