Last Saturday night, I sat on my bed in my parent’s apartment, cuddled up with Gandalf and Pippin, my two golden retrievers. I had to leave to catch my flight back to Canada from Dubai in about half an hour, and all I could do was sit and cuddle and cry. Eventually, my mom came in and I leaned in for a long, long hug. I say goodbye all the time, and I think I’m getting worse at it.
When I’m in Dubai or with my parents, I always feel wrapped in this bubble, a love bubble perhaps. Even as I get more immersed in the heady exploits of academia and learn to see the world in different ways than they do, they keep me grounded and love me unflinchingly. My two dogs follow me around the apartment, ready to lick me, hop into my lap (a challenging feat for a good-sized dog), stare at me adoringly, and snuggle up next to me.
It’s funny because my reality at school could not be more different. My roommates and I all live busy and often separate lives. Sometimes I’ll go through an entire day without much human contact beyond class, work, and the occasional “Hello, how are you?” in the hall. I think that there’s an innate loneliness about the process of leaving home and starting to take on the responsibilities of adulthood.
I think we make a mistake, though, when we assume that this loneliness is a negative part of the process. Sure, a social life, friendships and human contact are all important things… I will not deny that I need others’ words and perspectives to get me out of my head. However, what I think is quite interesting and should end up being the point of this meandering blog post is that I have learned the most about love away from my bubble.
I’m taking a course in gender/sexuality theory, which I’ve found to be a simultaneously frustrating and enlightening experience. Frustrating because theory can be dense and dry and sometimes the class discussion gets out of hand. But enlightening because the realm of gender and sexuality is one that I have been partially sheltered from, and in some ways, kept away from by the prejudices and so-called “morality” inherent in the evangelical church.
Now, before you lose your heads in a fit of righteous indignation, this is not a manifesto on the topic of sex and gender in the Bible, because I’m neither qualified to provide you with a detailed theological argument for or against the issue or interested enough to pursue such an argument. I was talking to my friend Kim a few weeks ago about the preoccupation with moral truth that exists in the church, in specific reference to the issue of gay marriage. She mentioned a conversation she had had with an older church leader in the Mennonite church who had made the point that given the choice between the truth and love, we should always choose love, not just because love is the greatest commandment, but because we are subject to human fallibility and always run the risk of being wrong. Love is less risky, but significantly harder. Henri Nouwen, in his book In the Name of Jesus, notes that the Christian leader often chooses power as an alternative to the hard task of loving, of entering into vulnerable, messy relationships. Is that not what is really at the root of the church’s rule book? A sense of moral power?
Now, before you have another fit, I’m not suggesting we scrap all morality. I do believe that certain lifestyle choices contribute to a healthier, more balanced life, which can lead to some super fun conversations regarding my stance on abstinence or substance abuse. Just ask my roommate, who called me a classic “good girl” the other day, a rule follower. But what I do know is that there’s not a lot of room in the gospel of Jesus for having your shit together. Because, that is, at best, an elaborate facade and at worst, a lie. I have found it to be true that I am most distant from the grace and love and acceptance of Jesus when I see myself as successful at running my own life. And subsequently, not able to extend grace to myself and harder on myself when I fall into less productive or less successful times.
In this class of mine, we spend a lot of time talking about people's need or desire for a coherent identity, and the struggle of certain individuals to find coherence when faced with gender binaries or one normative sexuality. Now, I don’t want to reduce or presume to understand that struggle, but as someone who struggles to define herself both within and without her passport country, I get the struggle for coherence and the resistance against a prescriptive understanding of coherence. I have been learning to sit in my conflicting cultural/national identity, to live out of it with courage and vulnerability and grace. The least I can do for those who have different struggles with identity is allow them the same dignity and opportunity.
And that, my friends, is why we need love bubbles. We need dysfunctional, imperfect people to surround us with love and hugs and unsought advice and dumb jokes because we recognize their humanity and our own by loving and being loved. So, I am thankful for my Dubai love bubble and for the Wolfville love bubble that is still under construction, for the many people in this town from all walks of life who continue to speak love and grace and challenge into my life. And I’m thankful for the lonely spaces too. For the space to think and observe and process.
At best, my thoughts are fragmented; my answers are incomplete. But, my heart is softening to the inconsistencies and injustices of the world. I’m learning to recognize my own privilege, the sins of the past and present that I have taken part in by choice or by association. I’m doing my best to choose love, for myself, for the people around me. And when I fail, I’m sitting at the feet of Jesus, unqualified and broken, learning to see the world again through the eyes of the love that is even purer than a golden retriever’s.
“What makes the temptation of power so seemingly irresistible? Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life.” - Henri Nouwen
