My little boy is a Lego-maniac. He’s only six-years-old, but he’s got a brilliant imagination and is meticulous with the details. At least once a month, his grandmother takes him to a “build night” at the local Lego store. Forthe first few months, on build nights, Ben would get a small kit and follow the instructor’s directions precisely. Eventually, he started bringing extra packages home, one of us adults would supervise and guide him as he pieced the characters, airplanes, and superheroes together. Building Lego’s with Ben reminds me a lot of my journey as a spiritual misfit.
For Christmas, I bought Ben a Lego “blockhead” (great name, right?) of the Beast from Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast.” Sitting with my son through the construction was a great chance to have some quality time with the little boy I adore so much.
At first, things were going great. My son was following the booklet, section by section, piece by piece. The longer Ben worked, I started to notice an interesting tension between his excitement over what was coming to life, and his exhaustion over not being able to follow such detailed diagrams.
But if you give them a hard time, bullying or taking advantage of their simple trust, you’ll soon wish you hadn’t. You’d be better off dropped in the middle of the lake with a millstone around your neck. Doom to the world for giving these God-believing children a hard time! Hard times are inevitable, but you don’t have to make it worse—and it’s doomsday to you if you do. (Matthew 18:6-7)
We were about 80% complete with building the Beast when Ben realized he’d put one piece in the wrong place. It couldn’t have been any bigger than 2cm x 2cm, but that one out-of-place Lego messed up the entire construction. If you’ve been following my blog for the past few years, you know my spiritual journey has mirrored that of little Ben and the Lego’s.
Eventually, Ben lost his temper and smashed his brand-new construction to bits. It wasn’t perfect, and to my son, if it’s not perfect: it’s worthless. I’ve been there, trying to jump through the hoops of manmade religion. I’ve exhausted myself, attempting to live up to every unrealistic expectation of religious leaders and armchair theologians. For a while, I became an angry Deconstructionist, too.
If you’ve had a similar experience, stubbornly seeking the approval of the institutional church, but only becoming more disenfranchised and disillusioned, I hear you. If you have more questions than answers, me too. I have been angry, frustrated, and worn out.
As a spiritual misfit, I find solace in the words of Jesus:
Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me, and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me, and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. (Matthew 11:28-30)
After a while, my son calmed down and wiped his angry tears. In the process, Ben learned three lessons I hope he clings to the rest of his life:
Jon Scott and I had a great conversation on The Holy Heretics Podcast today. The title of the episode is “Faith…I doubt it!” If you are looking for a faith that embraces the gray areas of spirituality, listen to this podcast episode today!
Steve Austin is an author, speaker, and life coach who is passionate about helping overwhelmed people learn to catch their breath. He is the author of two Amazon bestsellers, "Catching Your Breath," and "From Pastor to a Psych Ward." Steve lives with his wife and two children in Birmingham, Alabama.
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