I’ve been thinking a lot about my childhood faith. What it meant, what it looked like, what still fits. Here’s what being a Christian looked like according to adolescent Kristin:

Wear dresses and pantyhose. I was the only girl my age for a while and I didn’t want to be the only one in a dress. But it was Sunday, and that’s what you wore. No exceptions. You present your best to God.

Sit in the front pew. Silently. Okay, technically the actual front pew was always empty because no one wanted to sit where you were completely exposed to the pastor. But the 2nd row, which was the farthest anyone dare sit, that was ours. Literally. No one sat in our pew even if we were out of town. That’s where the Mocklers sat.

Don’t fall into secular things. It was light rock or Christian music for me, no popular radio station, even when driving with other people. When I discovered DC Talk, Jars of Clay and The Newsboys, I’d finally found cool music. Cartoons only and then only the nice ones. No Seventeen Magazine or Teen Bop either. Let’s not open Pandora’s box.

Go to church. A lot. Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, for an alternative Halloween party, for choir practice, chime rehearsal, you name it. If the church was open, we were there.

Pray. Especially to ask Jesus into your heart. I was baptized and confirmed. But it never felt like enough. If there was an opportunity to repeat after the pastor, I did. Pray the prayer? Of course. Raise your hand for redemption; is mine high enough? I can’t tell you how many times I went forward for an altar call before my high school boyfriend finally explained to me that it was only necessary to do so once.

Do the right thing. It meant doing what was right. If it wasn’t right, it was wrong. If it wasn’t white - if there was any shade of gray - consider it black. Don’t do it, watch it, listen to it or think it. Don’t let me convince you that I was a perfect kid, I did sneak Saved by the Bell and I looked at Seventeen Magazine at sleepovers. But the fear of being wrong and disappointing God kept me from disobeying much at all.

My parents did the best they could and they did what they thought was best. I truly believe that. I don’t attribute all of what I remember or learned to how they raised me. There were other adults in my life (at church, obviously) and kids don’t always interpret things the way parents intend. Whatever the combination of reasons, that’s what I thought being a Christian was about. And as awkward as trying to squeeze into those old dresses and tights would be, I realized that’s what I’ve been doing with my faith. Just as we outgrow even our best clothes, the same can be true of our religion. Here are some tweaks I’ve made in what I used to think being a Christian was about and what I’m trying to reflect instead:

Clothes are just clothes. Church isn’t private school and you don’t have to wear a uniform. Putting our best face forward is certainly not bad. But it also isn’t a requirement. I always feel better about myself when I’ve put a little effort in but I also know what it’s like to have a day where you just can’t be bothered. Glennon Doyle says that cleaning up and hiding our mess before presenting ourselves to God is like putting on makeup for an x-ray. You want to wear a hat or ripped jeans to church? Come on in. I’m glad you’re here.

All of the seats are the same. Sitting in the front row feels performative. I’m sure it wasn’t for my parents. But now, for me, as I’m learning to take a back seat and not always have to be in the center of attention, I actually prefer the back. I can dance back there, jump around during worship. I can talk back to the pastor and make funny comments to the people around me and I don’t have to worry about everyone seeing me. You want to sit in the front so you can see, hear or engage better? Come on in. I’m glad you’re here.

I live in this world. Whew buddy. The “Be in this world but not of it” sermons my youth group heart took in on this! My lens was that the world was bad, scary and wrong. Yes, being sheltered kept me from learning about things that I didn’t need to know about as a teenager. But my fierce convictions to not participate ultimately led to strained relationships. My friends didn’t hear my compelling reasonings for why they should stop doing whatever they were doing. They just felt unaccepted by a self-righteous Christian who was trying to control them. In trying to stay “out” of the world, I ended up removing myself from the very people I was trying to witness to. You want to be relevant and keep up with culture - and do it inside the walls of the church?! Cool, I do too. Come on in. I’m glad you’re here.

Go to church. Okay, this one still holds up. I loved it then and I love it now. I felt safe, loved and special at church. I would’ve gone every day if it had been open. Same goes for now.

Just talk to God. When my boyfriend explained to me that I didn’t need to keep asking Jesus to trade my sins for salvation I was so confused. It wasn’t just FOMO of everyone going forward. It wasn’t that I got caught up in the emotion. (Although, boy, did I. If you need someone to start crying in a service, event or concert, I’m your girl.) It was a sense of guilt. I wasn’t good enough and I never was going to be. Jesus died because of me. He felt pain and was tortured and it was my fault. Every time I sinned, I made him relive the horrific experience. (Thank you, Ray Boltz, I believed that terrible lie with every fiber of my being.) This is a major shift for me and something I still fight to this day. Jesus did not die because I put him there. You did not put him there with your life. He did not suffer for our shame, guilt or inadequacy. It was always the plan and he went for love. grace. mercy. He went so that we only have to surrender to him one time and we’re forever his. God wants us to pray because he wants us in relationship with him not because he’s keeping track of how often we repent. Are you unsure of how you feel about Jesus and your worthiness of all he has to offer? Come on in. I’m glad you’re here.

Do the best thing. There are still things I believe are right. Things I believe are wrong. But there are others that, the more I try to categorize them, the more vague they seem. It’s easier to draw lines, to say “this is right, this is wrong.” We like definitive statements because division separates us from “them.” But when there is no clear answer, I’m choosing the other side. I’m choosing what’s best over what’s right because best leaves room for so many factors that can’t be considered in hard and fast, rigid rules. I’m choosing people over policies. I’m choosing relationship over religion. I’m choosing to err on the side of love and acceptance over legalism and likemindedness. I don’t care what you believe. That’s between you and God and I’ve finally realized that it isn’t my job to or responsibility to get you to agree with what I think. You want to wrestle through it and have a safe space to sit in the not knowing? Come on in. I’m the most glad that you’re here.

Taking a new look at the foundational aspects of Christianity is not an easy conclusion to come to. At least it hasn’t been for me. And I don’t have it all figured out. These are the most basic of principles and the easiest to start with. There will probably be more posts similar to this one as I continue to reflect on my faith because, in a way, I’m still going through it. (And secretly kind of hope I always will be.)

What’s the moral of the story here? It’s okay to outgrow what you’ve always believed. Find a church that focuses on what matters most to you. If it’s tradition and hierarchy and religious practices that feel comfortable and familiar to you, go! Find them! They’re out there. And if you’re not sure what you believe or what matters most to you, find a church that’s comfortable enough to say “Come on in. We might not have all the answers but we can figure it out together. You might not believe exactly what we believe but Jesus is here and we’re glad you’re here, too.“

P.S. If you can relate to any of this - I just spoke on this topic. Watch “No Other Label” on the videos page.