You might have asked (or not asked at all) where I have been and what I have been up to. I noticed at the beginning of January, shortly after I started this blog, that for the first time in a long time (like years and years or maybe ever) I felt calm. My nervous system felt calm, and I felt a peace in my body that I forgot existed. After several tumultuous years, it felt wonderful, and I just wanted to stay in that space as long as possible. Sometimes when I would go to write something, it would bring up a lot of those untethered, anxious thoughts again. And I would be right back to romanticizing performance, a place where I lived within the church system for too long. I hate that feeling. After experiencing rest and peace again, I wanted to guard it much more closely than I ever have before. I’m reminded that my life is hidden with Christ (Colossians 3:3).

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalm 91

This season of my life has also been a strange transition, and it’s hard for me to write about something that’s currently in process with the clarity I’d like to have. I’ve still been writing, sometimes just jotting things down, and I still plan on sharing more of my thoughts, ideas, and opinions with whoever is interested. But it hasn’t come as quickly as it did before, and I’m learning to be ok with that. Besides writing, I’ve also been doing a lot of reading (even fiction!), walking, and resting—mostly in Christ, but also physically, spiritually, and emotionally —and I am thoroughly enjoying that.

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I was having a conversation with a couple the other day, and they started talking about bike riding and trails. I mentioned I had not been on a bike since I was probably 18, but then added the old adage that “you never forget how to ride a bike.” I think it must be true, but the thought of riding a bike today, at my age (careening toward 50), makes me think of arthritis…the obvious outcome to any injury I endure from this point on. Not very appealing. As I was reflecting on this conversation, I thought, I already feel like I’m riding a bike. I picture just me, on the open road (likely on a sidewalk), cars speeding past, nothing between me and the ground besides a piece of metal and a couple of wheels. Ok, let’s say instead I’m on a trail, a bumpy trail laden with rocks, roots and turns. The thought still honestly freaks me out. And at the same time, it feels exhilarating. I get to go slow or fast, stop, turn around, feel the air on my face, and move my feet to propel the bike forward.

As small children, we use training wheels to get used to riding a bike without the risk of falling. But while they can be helpful, they constrict your ability to move freely, to go quickly, or even to fall. And everyone knows that at some point, the training wheels need to come off. In the same way, the church system has imposed these guides on the Christian life, dictating what it should and shouldn’t be. Restricting, stopping, preventing, and dictating people’s courses, roles, and how they live out their Christian life. Instead of helping, this system has held back so many to serve its own purposes. It has not served the purpose of the true Church (which cannot be stopped) or helped our individual neighbors, but it has negatively impacted both.

As I mentioned above, my life currently feels like a bike ride. A bike I’ve been on for a long time; only the bike I’ve been on has had training wheels attached. The training wheels have been the church system (institutionalized church); I just didn’t know they were on my bike. Something I thought was to help turned out to be a hindrance, a constraint. Instead of helping me grow in Christ, it stunted my ability to engage with the surrounding world in a way that genuinely loves and helps others, as Jesus called us to do. Instead of growing and maturing in my walk with Jesus, it inhibited my ability to know myself fully, and more importantly, to know Jesus more fully.

A few years ago, when I walked away from the institutionalized church (the American church system) because they did not care about Jesus or the Gospel, I took the training wheels off. At the time, I didn’t know that’s what I was doing. Jesus transformed me when he saved me 22 years ago, and when I went back to “church,” the goal of that system was to conform me to the church culture. Jesus didn’t save us so we could conform to systems, but to transform us from the inside out. I contributed to conforming to church culture by my actions because I thought that conformity equaled transformation, not realizing that all true transformation comes from Jesus. Conforming to a system definitely stalled and stunted me in many areas, but now that the training wheels have come off, I already notice a difference in how I interact with Jesus and those around me.

There’s been a necessary transition from “training wheels” to no “training wheels.” What that looks like, practically speaking, has been scary and hard at times. I’ve fallen a lot, trying to get my bearings and learn how to ride without the constraints I previously had. Even with the uncertainty of what’s to come, it’s helped me to see Jesus more clearly and depend on him in a greater way than I have since I first believed. It’s allowed me to use the gifts the Holy Spirit has given me in new and different ways. It has not inhibited me from giving, sharing, or following him. In fact, it has expanded to include all of those things and now also includes joy and rest. Of course, since I’ve known Jesus for over 20 years, I’ve experienced both joy and rest to varying degrees, but the further I got into the system, the harder those things felt to attain. Everything had started to feel like drudgery, and like I was not allowed to enjoy any good thing. I don’t feel like that anymore. I don’t feel like it’s dependent on me, what I do, and how I do, because it’s not. It’s dependent on Jesus and what he’s already accomplished. So even in bike riding (figuratively, of course), I can cease striving, go slowly or quickly, coast at times, stop if I need to, and look around and enjoy the scenery. It almost makes me want to get back on an actual bike. Almost.