Leaving: A Light Left On
More Unraveling Reflections
I bought a new desk and rearranged my office. When I turned on a lamp for the first time after relocating it from the other side of the room, I was amazed at how much brighter everything was. I had no idea how badly I needed that light on.
How often do we only realize what we need after we experience it?
Life these last few months has been a whirlwind as I prepared for the publishing of Unraveling: Coming Out and Back Together (order here). I knew that sharing my story in such a public and vulnerable way, especially at this moment in time, would stir feelings, emotions, and memories. That old questions and wonders would resurface. Much of what I’m feeling, thinking, and remembering isn’t unexpected or surprising. But there’s one thing I received that I had no idea I so needed. It came from the most beautiful soul, catching me off guard, pulling me farther along on my unraveling journey.
A few weeks before Unraveling was published I went to a Flamy Grant concert. It was a small venue, which left me feeling exposed. I was hoping for a larger space and bigger crowd to hide in. Lately I’ve been far more visible than I’ve ever been or like to be.
Flamy Grant performed a new song that will be on an upcoming album. She shared that the song If You Ever Leave is for queer people who “gotta get out” of churches and other toxic places. It’s a Good Day, the audience was reminded when queer people purposefully stay and when we faithfully leave.
Once I fully embraced my queerness, which was a long and winding road, the decision to surrender my provisional credentials and leave the United Methodist Church was easy. By easy I don’t mean the opposite of difficult, but rather I mean, easy as in doing so with authenticity and confidence. I knew that staying in a system that passively and overtly deemed my being sinful, and constantly and continually debated my humanity would be death sentence. And would undo and dishonor the courageous unraveling I have so intentionally undertaken.
The greatest challenge of leaving was not deciding to do so, but navigating a system that sought to silence that decision and put the responsibility on me to figure out the bureaucratic aspects of leaving. And showed complete disregard for the spiritual impacts of such a decision.
People with power said things like,
if it gets better and I’m still here, I’ll welcome you back.
If it gets worse I may have to leave myself.
What about the pain of those who will leave if the UMC becomes more inclusive?
Why not stay a few more years and see what happens before leaving?
You don’t have to leave…unless you insist on making a big deal about who you are.
The church isn’t forcing you to leave, you’re forcing the church to leave tradition behind.
I’ve waded through the muddy water of these words for years, finding ways to release their pain and effect on me. And as Flamy Grant began to sing,
If you ever leave…
I felt the weight of leaving rolling down my checks. Tears. Soft salty tears. Tears formed not from the returning sting of leaving, but from the healing I didn’t know I still needed. I did what was right for me, what God was calling me to do. Finally, someone acknowledged that.
I never asked the UMC for anything other than grace in the most transformational season of my life. Grace as means of acknowledgement and recognition of the fact that after a lifetime of shame and self-hatred I was ready to serve myself love, forgiveness, and mercy with the same care and compassion I had so passionately served others.
The greatest grief of leaving was the complete lack of grace from the church that taught me what grace is. Flamy Grant reminded me that grace never leaves and was never the church’s to define or distribute. That song was the affirmation I’ve been so busy living and loving that I forgot I still longed for.
Institutional religion isn’t the only thing I’ve ever left. Maybe you’ve never had to leave a church or denomination, but maybe you’ve left a relationship, or a job, or an environment, or a situation, or a mindset, or a belief. Even when you’re confident in the decision, even when it’s for the best, even when it’s to begin healing and moving toward who you are and were born to be, there is still so much emotion and energy involved. And even when you aren’t seeking others’ approval it is extremely painful to experience their rejection or worse yet their indifference.
Unraveling isn’t simply a queer story or a United Methodist story, it’s story about working through and leaving behind the shame and the fear that keep us knotted up and so tangled in our grief and our doubts that we miss out on the joys of living.
What are you holding that keeps you from loving yourself or others? Can you imagine pulling the first thread and watching your unraveling begin?
Where are you physically and spiritually? What places in the world around you and the world within are life-giving? What places that no longer serve you might you be called to leave? What experiences of leaving leave you longing?
Flamy Grant’s song was the end of a years’ long longing. And how like God to send the message through a Drag Queen, a messenger so many churches won’t even let in.
If you ever leave
I hope you’ll leave a light on…
…before you go deck the halls with something bright and queer
a big rainbow
they’ll tear it down but they’ll know that you were here
In 2019, after returning home from the Special General Conference in St. Louis, I began planning to leave the UMC for the second time. And with the help of some generous givers quickly raised the funds and received permission to deck the outside wall of the church with something bright and queer. It still hangs for everyone driving down Detroit’s Woodward Avenue going to baseball and football games and the NFL Draft to see.
I’d forgotten all about until Flamy Grant reminded me of the light I left on. Just like the light I didn’t know I needed before I re-arranged my office and my heart.
Unraveling. It’s more than a book. It’s a poem. A poetry show. A sermon. A conversation. A workshop. A story about the ways church harms and church heals. An invitation to unravel.
Your invitation is on the way. I hope you’ll accept it and leave a light on for yourself and someone wondering if anyone knows they were here.
Water-fully Yours,
Rebecca & 10 Camels
P.S. Thank you for your support of Unraveling. With your help we again reached #1 in New Release LGBTQ+ Poetry on Amazon. In addition to purchasing your copy, I invite to leave a review (on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Goodreads) as this keeps the momentum growing.