They Never Really Loved Me

I've come to a difficult realization over the last few months that has been both a painful and yet liberating pill to swallow.  

Back when I still identified as an Evangelical, I had a lot of friends - church friends, school friends, etc.  I had a group of friends that I had amassed over the course of about 20 years ...

College.

Seminary.

Internships.

Pastoring.

Conferences.

Bible Studies.

Guest preaching gigs.

Etc.

Some of these people became very close friends whereas others were more like people I was friendly with, people who would come up to me after I would preach or post something intriguing on my blog and they would say, "wow Pastor" or "wow Glenn, that was really incredible.  We are so grateful for your wisdom and so thankful that the Lord has brought you to us."

It was all quite intoxicating, really.

I said this a few weeks ago, but I can remember the last time I preached at my old church I had a line of people waiting to shake my hand.  At the end of the service at least 1/2 of the church was at the altar having a "moment with God" and there were lots of tears and smiles and pats on the back for me.  People remarked about how knowledgeable and wise I was, about how powerful my preaching was ... all the things.  They told me how clearly the Lord was working through my life and said they were so excited to see where my life would take me.

All these years later, though ... 99% of those people no longer talk to me (some do, and I'm grateful), a few of them have verbally attacked me in both public and private settings, and a few handfuls have called me the worst of names both directly to me and behind my back.

I tell you all of this not because I want sympathy (I don't - many have had it much worse), but because I've been thinking a lot lately about how so many of the people from my former tribe said they loved me and said they appreciated me and said they were proud of me ... but they weren't.

They didn't love me.

They didn't appreciate me.

They weren't proud of me.

Instead, they loved what I believed.  Right?  They loved what I believed, they loved what I taught, they were proud to see a pastor stand up front who affirmed everything they already believed and only challenged them to the outer edges of their comfort zone.  

My "friends" didn't love Glenn as much as they loved what Glenn believed, the fact that Glenn believed the same things that they did.  And I say that because the moment that I started to question things, voice a different opinion on bigger topics, pull at the loose strings of the Evangelical Machine, and point out obvious flaws that no one seems to think need to be addressed.

The compliments went away.

The praise was ripped out of my hands.

The gratitude turned to judgement.

The love turned to hatred.

I was ignored.

I was shamed.

I was pushed away.

I was ghosted.

I was told that I was working for the Devil.

I was told that I had backslidden.

I was told that I had gone astray.

But, here's the thing - that's on them, not me.  And when this sort of thing happens to you, it's not on you either - it's on them.  It's their issues, not yours.  I wanted to remind you of something today that you likely already know, but I want to remind you of it because I need the reminder too - you aren't responsible for how other people respond to you or your changing and evolving beliefs; you're only responsible for making sure you live a life whereby at the end of the day you can look at yourself in the mirror and know that you have been true to yourself.  

For a long time I felt like I was living a double life - wrestling with things on the inside, but being praised on the outside for giving all the "right answers" and saying all of the "right things".  It felt good to get the praise, but it felt terrible to know that I was getting praised for things I wasn't really too sure I believed anymore.  

And so although it was painful to come out with my real thoughts about stuff like hell, LGBTQ inclusion, the Bible, the cross, and all the things due to the many relationships that have fallen away and the many people who have ghosted and/or shamed me, it was also liberating because I've never in my life loved myself more than I do right now nor have I ever cared less what anyone thinks of me.

This deconstruction, faith evolution stuff, my friends - it's painful, but it's liberating. Hang in there. We're in it together.