Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Grace is Messy

Home
Meet Steve Austin
About Messy Grace
Books
Speaker
Contact
Categories
- Faith
- Family
  - Marriage
  - Parenting
- Mental Health
- Recovery
- Writing Help
Best of Messy Grace
Support
Supporters
Affirming Churches
ASK STEVE!
Press
The Podcast

Home
Progressive Christian
Finding Grace Where I Least Expected

Finding Grace Where I Least Expected

Last updated on: February 29, 2016 at 7:52 am by Steve Austin

Finding Grace Where I Least Expected 2016-02-29T07:52:57-05:00 Steve Austin

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

The past year was exhausting for Lindsey and me. We needed some space to breathe. In the words of the old song, we felt broken and spilled out, and the last thing we needed to do was to pour out more of ourselves in this moment. When we first returned to our old church, the youth minister said, “We’re so glad you’re here. For now, just rest. Let us know when you’re ready to get involved.” I was skeptical when I heard it. This church has a strong creative arts focus, full of many talented people, who also knew of my talents, so I held my breath, wondering how long it would be before someone asked me to serve. Yet Lindsey and I did exactly as he said. We sat in a pew, we worshipped, we waited. And we watched.

For the first few weeks, I think I secretly wanted to find some major character flaw in church leadership. In a dark and distant part of my soul, a part that has not yet been exposed to the Light, maybe I even longed for a scandal. Something tangible that could be my “get out of church free card.” A final nail in the religious coffin I had stored in the back yard, alongside other old church hurts and memorials to days gone by, when imperfect people acted in imperfect ways, and left me offended.

I tried to help the cause by giving them every opportunity to judge me or to criticize me. I offered to share my history with the youth pastor one night, as we sat in my living room. I offered to tell him everything, to “confess my sins.” That would surely keep me from being invited to “use my gifts” again. But he wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to know. “It’s been more than three years, Steve. And I can see the fruit of your counseling and therapy. Your marriage is proof. I don’t need to know this, unless you have some deep need to get it off your chest.” I didn’t. In my fear, I was grateful and somehow frustrated. This wasn’t the usual feedback from church people.

As hard as I tried to prove myself unworthy of engaging in this faith community, I was never shown the door. This community is different. And I’m different, too. Ten years away from this church where I grew up did us both some good. The church has matured like a precious grandparent, no longer concerned with fruitless arguments or immature judgment. But it’s not just them. I’ve done some growing up, too. I’m no longer expecting the church to be the driving force to my faith. Instead, I’m looking for a safe place to belong, to lay down my burdens, and rest. I’m looking for an imperfect community, committed to wrestling with the ways of grace, and they’re looking to provide one. It’s a really good fit.

A few weeks ago, the associate pastor greeted me one Sunday morning during the song service and asked me to come speak to a group of ministry students. I was shocked and honored. I was also more nervous than I could possibly explain. Again, I tried to offer my list of failures and ministry mishaps, but I was pleasantly surprised when my shame collided with the grace this man has experienced. He expressed faith in me and only asked me to tell them what Jesus has done in my life. This man has known me since I was nine-years-old. Yet he still wanted me to come speak to the students he is leading.

The night before I was due to speak, laying in bed next to Lindsey, I started to cry. Inside, I was cowering like a small child in a corner, afraid of my own shadow. “Vulnerability is the courage to show up and be seen,” says Brene’ Brown. Showing up and being seen and not having any control over the outcome.

What could I possibly tell these students that they don’t already know? And what on earth could we possibly have in common? What I knew how to do was craft a script, rehearse it tirelessly, have some slick one-liners, make them laugh a little, and prepare for a powerful altar call. A dose of hysterics. A dash of theatrics. And a few cherry-picked Scriptures, for good measure. But that’s the old me. That’s the Steve Austin who lived the lie, who put on a show. I wanted the real me to show up the next day.

So I did. The new me showed up and told the truth. I shared what God had done in me in the three and a half years since my suicide attempt. I told them what it’s like to find God after a big failure in ministry and life. To meet God after my marriage nearly collapsed. I told them it’s okay to wrestle. Struggles don’t disqualify us from God’s community. In the words of Brennan Manning, I no longer “compare my insides to everyone else’s outsides.”

I was my authentic self. No one-liners, no theatrics. I left the smoke and mirrors behind. I simply stood, read my notes, cried a little, and shared God as I see Him, who loves me in the midst of every storm and who patiently helps me peel back layers of shame and guilt and fear and performance. The God who doesn’t need me to be perfect.

As I prepared to leave that day, several students approached me and told me their stories. Many of them said “me too” in their own struggles. In fact, countless people (several I’ve known my entire life) have approached me at the altars or hallways of our church and thanked me for sharing about my childhood abuse and suicide attempt. I thought my story would separate me from the group, but it’s actually where I connect with them the most. I am shocked, relieved, and honored to find a community where people are free to wrestle and share their truth.

My family is finding belonging in a community of believers who understand the messiness of grace and the goodness of God. I have found a community who wants both your gifts and your weaknesses. It’s the perfect place for me.

Want to read more? Check out, “It Really Sucks to Be a Christian Right Now” on HuffPost.

Previous Post

February 25, 2016

Choosing to Forgive My Parents

Next Post

March 4, 2016 Finding Light and Love in the Notre-Dame

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Anxiety Best of Messy Grace Current Events Depression Faith Family Featured Fiction lgbtq Marriage Mental Health Messy Grace Millennials Parenting Recovery Recovery from a Suicide Attempt Recovery from Abuse Recovery from Porn Addiction Religious Recovery Self Care The Struggle With Church This is My Story (series) Uncategorized Writing Help

Select a Month January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 June 2015 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 June 2013 April 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 September 2011 August 2011 May 2011 July 2010

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What did Job famously say in response to loss: "The Lord gave and..."?

Select your answer to see how you score.

The Lord has taken away May His name be praised I will run away I have nothing left