It's Okay to Change Your Mind

Have you asked yourself at the end of every year how far you’ve come in your faith? How much did your faith change this year?

As far as my faith journey goes, this decade has been a year for the books so far.

At the end of every year, I always take stock of where I’ve been, where I am and where I’m going. Taking a hard look at your life is necessary in order to grow as a person.

This is going to sound strange to you because some people don’t write at all and some people write and keep them forever, but every five years, I throw away all my old journals.

“Don’t you want your children to look back and read what you wrote?” you might ask.

Actually, no. I don’t.

These are my personal thoughts, my desires and my cries to my Creator. There have been painful, brutal moments of honesty on my journal pages that I don’t feel my children need to be burdened by, even in the future.

I used to throw my journals away at the end of every year. I regretted that the next year, every single time.

Then, I held onto them for way too long. I regretted that too, because there were times that the pain was so real, and to read it again brought back a form of PTSD.

I’ve realized five years is a good amount of time to look back.

A decade ago, I was in the midst of turmoil in my marriage, with myself and with family.

The older we grow and the more we live, the easier it is to question some of the whys of your younger years.

Around 2015, I started to question a lot of whys. I think it happened because we’d moved a few years before, and the newness and excitement had worn off.

I was back to my set point of happiness, and I’d just turned 35.

I’d had a hysterectomy the year before, and my hormones were all over the place.

I was mourning the loss of my youth, I was struggling in my marriage because of past hurts that hadn’t been resolved, I was still reeling from childhood trauma, and my older two children were becoming teenagers, overnight, it seemed.

Those days were hard. Really hard.

Blogging became a way for me to work out my issues. I never dreamed people would read what I wrote.

But they did, and it resonated. So much so that I began having followers from other states.

You’d think a person who loves to write would welcome others reading her thoughts.

I HATED it.

I recoiled at the thought that others were judging me. That behind closed doors, I was being criticized.

And here’s the thing: I’m sure I was because that’s human nature.

But the truth was, no one was thinking about me nearly as much as I thought they were.

What I learned was that sometimes pride takes the form of low self-esteem, which seems strange and ironic but is true.

We can have such a low view of ourselves that we imagine that all day, every day, everyone is looking at, talking about or hating on us.

How sad is that?

Later, when I taught my students would sometimes say, “Didn’t you write a book? Didn’t you have a blog?” And they’d search for me online.

And I’d cringe.

This waffling back and forth happened for so long, I started and stopped at least five blogs, published and deleted a few YouTube videos, placed my books on Amazon and immediately removed them, etc. etc. before I finally said, “Enough is enough!” I was so tired of being afraid of what others thought of me.

The truth is, I’m far enough removed from my shame and pride now to see my own flaws. Back then, living in a perfectionist point of view (which isn’t what most people think, by the way), I had this idea that no matter what I put out there, I had to make people believe I thought it was perfect.

But now, I’m able to be much easier on myself. No, my work’s not perfect and never will be. And that’s okay.

In 2021, many families dealt with Covid-19, suicide and other death, substance abuse, financial issues, job loss, school problems and more.

My family endured all of the above, starting in 2020, and sometimes, it’s worth reminding myself how far I’ve come.

Every now and then, I'll pull out my old journals, struck by the one thing that had changed the most, which I’d previously shared on my other blog, but had since removed on my newest site:

My relationship with God has been the single biggest change of my life this decade.

It started in 2021, with a case of COVID, the sudden loss of a family member to suicide, and watching a group of so-called freedom fighting Christians destroy a sacred government building while holding "Jesus 2020" signs (and before you tell me they were paid, I actually knew a few of them). 

I’ve discussed this before, but what unfolded that day mirrored what had unfolded during my entire childhood being raised under the most confusing circumstances where Christianity was concerned.

My father, who had been raised Catholic, had left the faith, gotten my mom pregnant in their early twenties, then later became a hardcore Southern Baptist.

Because the only church I’d known as a small child was the Catholic Church–a sweet little church in the Mississippi Delta I attended the summers I stayed with my grandmother–moving to an SBC shook me to my core.

Overnight, my father went from an MTV-watching, band playing, cigarette-smoking cool guy to a man who wanted no cable, constant Bible (always the God as avenger stories; never Jesus the lamb), and total control of his household, something that didn’t sit right with my atheist mother, who had been horribly abused as a child and wore untended scars everywhere on her body.

My childhood faith included a mixture of God as punisher, Church as shamer, family as abuser.

The worst part of it was that my father couldn’t quite reconcile his sinful nature with his belief that being a Christian meant living a perfect life. So one minute he’d be forcing us all to listen to Christian music 24/7, and the next he’d be throwing our Bibles out on the curb.

To even think about it now gives me severe anxiety.

As I watched January 6 unfold, I watched every childhood message I’d ever received about God and country play out. Growing up in the white, Republican, Evangelical South, this was what I learned: America, good; Government, bad. White, good; Black, bad. Republican, good; Democrat, bad. Protestant church, good; Other, bad.

The problem was that for years and years I’d danced around these feelings that something wasn’t quite right.

When I started teaching medieval history at a classical Christian school, the reality that the earthly Church is broken hit me like a ton of bricks.

When I read about the early medieval church and the practices of indulgences, dominance, Crusades, sexual abuse, and marital affairs; and then the horrors that came AFTER the Reformation--even worse--I realized that we had gone to bed with the very systems that Christ had come down and railed against. 

And as I learned about the origins of the Bible and how many ancient documents mirror its stories and writings, such as the Epic of Gilgamesh and the Code of Hammurabi, I began to look at “God’s Word” with fresh eyes, seeing not that God himself had always “spoken,” but that it was quite possible that this was simply the way early people worked out their understandings of the world. 

What I learned the last two years is that to question my own beliefs was not only a good thing, but it was also a crucial and necessary thing.

Jesus the Bread of Life


25 When they found him on the other side of the lake, they asked him, “Rabbi, when did you get here?”

26 Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. 27 Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him God the Father has placed his seal of approval.”

28 Then they asked him, “What must we do to do the works God requires?”

29 Jesus answered, “The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.”

NIV Bible, John 6

If your Christianity has anything other than believing in the One God sent to save us, then you’ve mixed a whole lotta junk into your faith-pot.

I’d grown up with a lifetime of confusing beliefs about salvation, humanity, sin, Grace and law.

And I shed them all this decade, in favor of simply believe in the One God sent.

Because the message of Christ is incredibly clear:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Jesus