Musings of a Misfit: The Cost of Not Fitting the Mold

Play Doh. What kid doesn’t love to play with it? I was no exception. My favorite thing was to force the soft sweet-smelling doh into the plastic molds and magically have the form of a white seashell or a primary red apple in front of me. I felt weirdly like I accomplished something. I always knew I could rely on the mold. It never let me down.

I disliked, however, having to create something on my own. When I was stripped of the predictable, reliable, mold, I’d end up just rolling the doh into a snake, wadding it back up and rolling it out again. Creative, I know.

I am not a creative person. I follow the rules. I do what’s expected of me. I like structure and order. It’s a controlled environment, something to count on. I am in accounting for a reason. Numbers are predictable. They are rigid. 1+1=2. Always.

I find comfort in the predictability. I find peace knowing the black and white, hard and fast rules of reality. But… is that how we should operate? Is there a cost to every person thinking, operating and believing the same? Is there perhaps a reason I was challenged to form the doh outside of the mold?

I’m thinking specifically about faith here. I’m not talking about the laws of our country. I’m not advocating we go murder someone because we dislike them. Or steal something because we want it.

I’m talking about the conformity of Christians to some mold that feels contrary to the ways of Jesus.

To fit an expectation set by the leaders of churches and more recently, a toxic precedent set by the leader of our country and his inner circle.

So what happens when those of us try to break out of that mold? It feels lonely. It feels like you are just a rebel, a jezebel, a blasphemer. Will our Christian family and friends look at us differently? Will we be told we’re just too “woke”, that we’ve lost our faith, or that we no longer belong?

It has happened. To too many. It’s heartbreaking. It has happened to me.

A few years ago, I volunteered to be a youth leader in our church at the time. My husband and I ran youth camps where we encouraged spiritual growth through prayer, worship, teaching and small group discussions. One of these camps was themed “Bringing TOV” (TOV=God’s Good), a topic near and dear to our hearts, clearly. After one of the camps, I had a student ask me a very personal question, “can I bring God’s good and be gay?” With tears in my eyes, I affirmed with a very resounding “YES!”, having seen it with my own eyes for years.

Around the campfire that night, we wanted to have a discussion about how we felt challenged or encouraged by God during the camp. Student after student shared openly and bravely. Without going into any detail about the conversation I had with this student, I shared how proud I was of them for even asking the question. That takes a lot of courage to ask that question.

After that, our leadership was challenged by people in the church. A family even left, writing a scathing letter about the “types of people” the church had “leading” the youth group. We had youth leaders leave because they were worried about where we were going as a church. It felt very discouraging.

Here’s the thing though, I would do it again. A thousand times over.

This was a pivotal moment for me. I realized I could have looked this student in the eyes and said “no, you can’t be gay and be an image bearer who brings His good.” I could have told other youth kids with tough questions about identity, life and faith, that they just needed to pray more, read their bibles more, and conform to the current expectations of modern faith. Just to keep certain people comfortable.

Here’s the thing. Jesus himself was a misfit. He surrounded himself with misfits. He called the unlovable, touched the untouchable and empowered the lowly.

He challenged the religious leaders of that time. The ones who had the reliable, hard and fast rules, who “othered” people. He gave dignity to those who were ostracized. He, with boldness, allowed women to be disciples.

And he was murdered for it.

You see, there is a cost to not fitting the mold. I have seen it over and over. It has resulted in people who feel they don’t belong to isolate and pull away from the church. It has driven people into a distrust of the Gospel, which should be the best news anyone could ever hear. It has caused hurt and pain from being seen as less than or anti-Jesus.

But what is the cost of being in the mold? What is the cost of following blindly the ways that push people away? What would have been the cost if I answered that student in any other way that would have gone against everything I believe?

I think there are more of us who don’t conform who have felt alone for far too long. It’s time to come out of isolation. It’s time to lovingly demonstrate the ways in which we see the world and how we believe God wants it to function.

Is there a cost? Maybe.

But the cost is too great to not be authentic to who you were created to be.