Black or White

Black and white thinking.

It is one of the most hurtful things in the world.

On the outside, it feels clear and clean.

Good vs. Evil.

Right vs. Wrong.

Winning vs. Losing.

Hero vs. Villain.

Alley vs Enemy.

Friend vs. Foe.

In truth, it simply causes divisions. It forces lines to be drawn. To pick a side.

Once you've made a choice, stick to it. And defend it, if you must.

*****

Last Christmas, I found myself at a church picnic social. It was at a beautiful park by the river. The food was good. The weather was beautiful. It should be just free and easy.

I happened to fall into conversation with an older lady who attended church connect group with hubs.

We connected over initial small talk on her family, work, travels.

As our cordial banter warmed up, she candidly asked why did she not see me at church with hubs.

I decided to reciprocate her candid spirit.

I'm not a Christian.

She seemed floored for a minute.

The curious questions started.

How did my husband and I meet?

At church.

Was I a Christian then?

Yes.

When did I stop? Why did I?

I did not mind recounting the basic story of my journey leaving church and Christianity. But usually this was the usual point when the nature of their curiosity shifted. It was not so much seeking to understand or empathise what my side of fence was really like. Instead it was more about subtly constructing a narrative inside their head.

Did you really, truly know Jesus? Truly with your whole heart?

Have you truly felt my life change deep down inside?

Who or what in the church disappointed you?

Did you simply grow up in a Christian household?

Toward the end of conversation, her parting 'kind words' were: I believe there is always hope for anyone.

Normally I would let a line like that slide and let the seemingly innocent condescension off the hook.

This time I decided to call it out.

And I told her candidly that her remark felt rather condescending. After our conversation when she asked me many questions about my story, in the end to brush it off as me being the 'lost one' who they hope will find their way back.

I should have known better.

Her final line to me: Well, I know where I am going after I die.

I could feel myself and my story being boxed into neat lines.

And I understand why.

Because in a black and white world, even acknowledging that my perspective might be valid is, in their eyes, an admission that theirs is wrong.

There is no room for doubt in that kind of world.

In the real world, doubt is really the beginning of truth.

Inhabiting the space of doubt is deeply uncomfortable.

Certainty is always more comfortable.