A church group I am part of recently discussed the topic of bounded-sets vs. centered-sets. You can read more about what those mean in that link; I’m not really going to expound much on it here because that’s not the point of what I’m writing about. Out of that discussion, one member suggested an exercise in which we all reflect on, and share if we wish, a time where we felt “out” of a bounded-set. 

Per usual, my reflections on this topic have grown far too loquacious, so I decided to share this on my blog instead of forcing all my sweet group members to read this if they don’t want to. (Don’t worry – they’ll get the link so they can read it if they wish.)

This exercise of reflecting on times I’ve been made to feel like an outsider, specifically in religious settings, has been meaningful for me. It would be easy to assume with a surface-level knowledge of my life that I’ve never been on the outside of Christianity. And in one sense, that is true. I’ve essentially been part of the Church my entire life. And yet… that doesn’t mean I’ve always felt “in.” Once you’re within Christian circles long enough, you begin to recognize the various boundaries that different sub-groups set in different places. These lines & distinctions can easily be mistaken for the bounds of the Christian faith itself, and this can lead to painful experiences. I’m here to talk about my own examples of feeling “outside” in my faith, even while remaining within Christian circles.

But are you SANCTIFIED?!

I grew up attending an American Baptist church and a non-denominational (though mostly Calvinist) Christian K-12 school. Then I chose to attend a Nazarene university. At first I didn’t think this would be significant. Both of my older sisters attended Christian liberal arts universities that were founded by non-Baptist denominations, and neither thought anything of it. Well turns out Nazarenes are their whole own thing. And it is A LOT.

I had never felt so “out” than the first semester of college. Everyone was talking about “districts” and “assemblies” and “sanctification” and a “NYC” that definitely wasn’t New York City and something called a “Trevecca” and ohmygoshwhatiswithyoupeople?!? How the hell do you already all know each other??

I quickly discovered Nazarenes are way more organized & insular than Baptists. Like 50% of the people in my class already knew each other from camps & events growing up, and they all spoke this Nazarene language that was foreign to me. But it wasn’t just the fact that everyone seemed to be previously acquainted; it was the fact that the ‘bounds’ of faith shifted in this new denomination.

I remember taking a required upper-level theology course on Nazarene fundamentals with one of my close friends who had also grown up in a non-Nazarene church. During one lecture seeped in Wesleyan theology, I reached over and wrote “damn Calvinists” on his notes. The resulting laughter was so loud we received some side-eye from the prof as he systematically tore apart Calvin’s TULIP points.

Look, Calvinism vs. Arminianism/Wesleyanism is not a debate I have any interest in anymore. I barely had an interest in it when I was 18. But I definitely felt like an outsider coming into a foreign theological worldview. I struggled with feeling like I wasn’t a good enough Christian to these people because concepts like sanctification* and losing salvation weren’t part of my Christian vocabulary. For 18 years, being a Christian had meant one thing. But now, around these people, it meant something different. And I was on the outside of their bounds. I struggled with a lot of uncertainty and feeling ‘other’ throughout my freshman year. 

*[The fact that I received an A++ in that upper-level Nazarene theology course without having even a basic understanding of the Nazarene tenet of sanctification seems like a flaw in the system. But whatevs! I’m not giving my degree back!]

It might seem weird, & even kinda funny in hindsight, that being a Baptist at a Nazarene university would make me feel “out,” but it did! I did eventually move past this outsider phase and made some of the best friendships of my life (and met my Nazarene husband) at that school. I’ll never regret going there! I’ll talk more about how I moved on a little later.

All the parts of the Body… as long as they’re extroverted

Back when I was a young, carefree, childless whippersnapper in my mid-20s, I volunteered to be part of my church’s ministry among the large Somali population in my city. I had cared for Muslims for a long time and took several classes on Islam in college. I was excited and hopeful to be part of outreach to Somalis. Though my church currently has a thriving, organized ministry hub to work with refugees and immigrants, a decade ago the church’s Somali ministry was, uh, loosely organized is the nicest term I can think of. So I tried for probably about a year to fit in to whatever was happening in Somali outreach. Sometimes there were large organized events, but more often it was smaller, more interpersonal stuff like “go to this Somali person’s apartment & just hang out” etc. The lack of knowing what was expected from me, combined with my natural introversion & reticence-with-strangers, made this all feel extremely overwhelming, chaotic, & stressful to me. But I tried to stick in there because I felt this was a really good cause & it made me a “good” Christian to reach out to the unreached.

Then I started to realize Somali outreach was happening that I wasn’t getting invited to participate in. I wasn’t included on emails anymore or being talked to by others in the ministry. I realized *gasp* I was out of Somali ministry! I was never specifically kicked out, but (from my perspective) was forced out all the same. I was so hurt. It wasn’t specifically that I was being excluded; it was that I felt like I was seen as not a good enough Christian to be part of this ministry. All the little insecurities I felt about my own spirituality suddenly felt confirmed by other Christians, including leaders in the church. These people didn’t think I was doing a good enough job, and they shoved me out! 

This was a point of personal crisis for me. It took a while to realize exactly how and why it all hurt so much. I had always felt insecure about the dichotomy between the traditional Christian values of outreach & evangelism, and my own values of ‘leaving people alone & having them leave me alone.’ In other words, I struggled with an internalized feeling like it was impossible to be a “good” Christian and also an introvert. Once I finally came to this epiphany, I was able to pray, talk to friends about it, and read some great books. I have gained so much healing in this area, but only after being made to feel like an “outsider” because of it. 

[Please note: I don’t actually know why I stopped being included in Somali ministry. This was all my perspective on it. It could’ve been because I smelled bad. But I definitely think it had a lot to do with my natural introversion & others thinking I didn’t fit into the outreach mold.]

What is the Center?

The way I healed and moved past both of these experiences of ‘otherness’ was to embrace a centered-set outlook on Christianity. Even before I had the bounded-vs-centered-set language, I began to believe that fitting into other people’s bounds isn’t what made me a “good” Christian. At college, as I prayed and studied I began to see how we were all moving toward Christ in the best ways we could, and that was the essential – Calvin & Wesley were doing the same thing centuries ago. And through the hurtful ministry experience at my current church, I was led to learn a lot more about myself and how God created me. My way of serving, ministering, or following Christ may not be particularly gregarious or outwardly enthusiastic, but that’s not how God made me. I no longer think those things are required of me to serve my maker. 

Because Christ is at the Center. Other people may set up bounds for the ideal Christian – whether a sanctified born-&-raised Nazarene or an extroverted go-with-the-flow evangelist – but those bounds don’t define my faith. Christ does. Once I identified the Center as something other than “fit in this mold” then I felt freedom to be who I was created to be, and also allow others to do the same.