Recently, I shared on social media a quote from a new book I’m reading, along with a reflection about the ways some of my perspectives have grown and changed over time.
“Instead of labeling whole swaths of groups in or out, Jesus met the lame man at the temple and the woman at the well and the father of the demoniac and the bleeding woman and the cheating tax collector and the begging children and the self-righteous zealots and centurions and lepers. He didn’t categorize a person based on what they did for work or did to survive or did because it’s all they ever knew to do. He encountered them just as they were, there in front of him, and helped them to belong more wholly or to move to a space where they could flourish. His whole ministry was one of saying, ‘You have been there, but I came to put you here. Here — in me — is where you will thrive and bloom and belong.’” — Lore Wilbert
Much of my identity, for years, was wrapped up in fitting into the neat boxes of Reformed theology and biblical counseling. I was welcomed into those spaces nearly two decades ago, during a time when many young adults were searching for something with substance. For so long I thought I was getting more substance and depth, but really, I was acquiring what was trivial in some ways and hovered only at the surface. I may have hoarded up a great deal of theology in my brain, but I didn’t have a whole lot of Jesus in my heart. I may have been saying I was embracing the authority of Scripture, but the Christ of the Bible remained distant from my personhood.
In recent days, those neat boxes I came from have been labeled with even greater specificity. Who fits in the box? Who doesn’t? Who gets the authority to decide? And on and on. There’s a lot I don’t know and a lot more I have stopped caring about. It’s not my job to stay in a box or to explain to others why I only kind of fit in some boxes but not really in others. I want to walk with Jesus, amongst the trees and the blooms, marking out a path with him where I can ask questions or say “I’m not sure” without worrying how it might look to others. This is where I belong, right here.
There are always new seasons of debate and division, times when sweeping statements get made and stakeholders feel backed into a corner to give an answer as to whose “side” they are on in the latest unraveling. In a few recent conversations with other biblical counselors, we’ve been discussing our concerns and confusion related to leaders who make such statements — whether they do so from the pulpit or in the classroom or in front of the camera. I don’t need to link to specific examples because if you’re reading this, I’m sure you have your own experience in mind or can easily find one of a dozen controversies unfolding in our current season. I have no desire to add to any of those conversations in terms of the points and counterpoints, at least not today.
I am a counselor. I spend most of my days meeting with hurting and confused people in a space where I seek to listen, support, and shine a little glimmer of light into the darkness they are experiencing. When I said, “There’s a lot I don’t know and a lot more I have stopped caring about,” I did not mean I’ve stopped caring altogether. What I do mean is that I care less and less about making sure that I fit within the boundary lines of any man-made framework, and more about getting it right with Jesus.
In one of these recent conversations with fellow counselors, there was an encouragement to not get distracted or discouraged by the controversies because the average people we serve probably aren’t even aware of them. That may be true in some cases. But it’s not uncommon for counselees to ask where I stand on particular issues of mental health, or if I’m this kind of counselor or that kind of counselor. My ReStoried groups have been running for nearly eight years, drawing women from all over who have often experienced layered abuse in their homes and religious settings. Sadly, many of them know the turmoil of being further harmed in the pastor’s study or the counselor’s office when they hoped for help. They do ask. They are apprehensive and might inquire with questions like, “Does this represent your views?” “Is this how you approach counseling?” “Do you really believe that?” I engage with those questions as they come, realizing that they are oftentimes best processed in the context of each relationship.
It would be easy to become discouraged by all the divisiveness and disagreement happening. But I am not discouraged. I am more resolved than ever to continue with the work that lies before me. I want to know and embody the heart of Christ for this person sitting in front of me. I want to offer a space where the wounded and weary can take a deep breath and gain perspective about the complexities of what is troubling them. I want the Spirit to guide and guard my convictions and practices — because I know that he is the One who will help those I serve determine the particular steps they take next. I don’t want to be the voice shaming, coddling, or coercing them into what I believe is right for them. I want to welcome their questions and answer them with honesty and humility, never going beyond the bounds of Truth itself. I want to help my fellow image bearer discover where and how they will best “thrive and bloom and belong.” This is the work that excites and enlivens my heart!