Why Changing What You Believe Is Actually A Sign of Strength

Some people have a really easy time with change.

They see the need for it, the areas it will better our lives and the world, feel the excitement with something new and want so much to jump. I like to think that I am one of these people—until I realize that I am quite thoroughly, not.

Photo Credit: Leo Hidalgo, Creative Commons

I’m the person touting how thrilling change will be, seeing what could be better about the current situation, making a grand embark. Then I am instantly looking over my shoulder at what I left behind. “Um…please don’t burn that bridge because I may need it later.”

First, I complain that there aren’t enough fair trade coffee shop options where we are at. Then we are in a city where there are too many and I miss the one I always visited on Monday morning with Rachael.

I wished our church did all sorts of things better—

Then we move and I just can’t go to church because I loved and miss our old one so much.

I wished I lived in a nice house, a house that didn’t have so many things to fix up or a yard that was in constant need of upkeep, so we move to a low-maintenance condo and I miss that old house because I held my first baby there and watched the sun rise through it’s tall windows.

There are the marks on the wall from when she turned one and that is the old cracked sidewalk she learned to ride a bike on. And that is the roof where Michael and sat as fireworks sparkled and broke up the dark July sky, before we had any kids at all.

It’s the whole “you don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone” scenario.

I realize how very “first world” all of these things are, and it embarrassing really.

But then there are my beliefs.

I like to think of myself as an open-minded and questioning individual, but often, when my brain begins to ask the hard questions, the internal battle begins. “Self! This is the way of thought you grew up with, this what you have believed for 20 years! You can see the marks where your ass has sat in the cushion from 20 years of believing this way and it’s comfortable, it’s what you know…it’s truth, isn’t it?”

“This is what your pastor taught you, it worked up until now. And what on earth would your mother say?!”

But if I think about it, I realize that some of the things I have believed in for so long feel so true not necessarily because of the merit of the belief, but only because I have believed it for so long.

Familiarity is a trickster.

For awhile, I was frustrated to the point of depression with how I approached God. I was trying so hard to hold onto the pieces that were crumbling—to tape things back together so I could say

“See! It still works!”

Familiarity felt a lot like truth.

It was comfortable. It was the old house with the tall windows and we have some grand memories living in it. We know the hallways and creaky door knobs and our feet just know how many steps are there without looking.

And what a good thing—to cherish and savor, to love where we have been, to have a foundation. But when the foundation starts cracking and you try hard to patch it up and remain on that faulty slab, things get difficult.

That’s how it has felt at times as my beliefs have changed—

like I was standing in a house that I had poured my heart and soul into. Years of marks on the wall, painting and repairing then tearing down this wall, building a new one. The shag yellow carpet was like the language my Sunday school used and once in college I tore it up and put down a different color, discovered a different language, a slightly different approach to faith.

Being willing to change and move forward is what allows us to grow.

Imagine if slavery never had been questioned. Imagine if no one ever doubted that the earth was flat or that women might, in fact, be smart enough to vote (gasp). Change opens the door to bring in love and equality.

Being willing to change is a necessity in the pursuit of God—the pursuit of good, love, truth.

A good friend once told me:

“Missing something means you loved it, so be glad you miss it—let it be a good thing.”

When I feel the pang for our old home, I think about it and am grateful for my experience there, just like I’m grateful for where I have come from in belief. I’m learning to be grateful for change because I know it is necessary. Yes, it is exciting and also difficult, but soon the hallways become familiar, I find the sun is rising in tall windows, and once again my feet know just how many steps to go.