You don’t have to have it all figured out…
What I’ve learned from five years of hosting Faith Shift Groups: Part 1
For the last five years, I have had the privilege of hosting groups for people processing change and loss, rethinking and reimagining their faith and spirituality.
I get to hear people's stories and get to share my own.
We meet one another with acceptance, kindness and understanding, often at points in our lives when we are questioning things we may once have been very certain about.
It is a privilege I don't take lightly because it takes courage to show up in this space,
It isn't unusual for people to be nervous in the first session. I reassure them this is quite normal and there can be a moment of wondering:
What have I signed up for?
Is this really a good idea?
What if I say too much?
What if I discover something I don't want to discover?
What if everyone else understands something that I don't?
What if I never figure this out?
Because when our faith changes, there can be an enormous pressure to find our way quickly, to know what we believe now, to replace the old answers with new ones.
But over the years, I've come to see that perhaps we don't need to rush towards another certainty but trust the journey and learn to embrace the mystery and the in between.
The reunion
I offer a reunion for each group about three months after our final session together.
Partly because people often feel a sense of loss having been part of these groups and don’t want them to end, so arranging a meet-up softens the edges of that transition.
But also because I have noticed something about what happens after a Faith Shift group ends. Often, the impact of those weeks together takes time to settle and we are not aware of the impact unless we have lived with it for a few more months.
People arrive at reunions and tell each other about conversations they've had, decisions they've made, things they've realised, things they've finally let go of.
Someone who has been wrestling with a decision has finally made it.
Someone has put down a weight they have been carrying for years.
People often seem clearer and with a greater sense of self-acceptance and more settled in some ways they once were not.
Sometimes they even look physically different somehow, lighter, more at ease in themselves somehow. To be clear, it isn't that everything has been resolved. Far from it. There are usually still questions, still uncertainty, still things to work through, grief to process. But something has often shifted in how they feel about these or their way forward.
You don't have to figure it all out
At our reunions, I sometimes ask the group a question:
“What advice would you go back and give yourself at the beginning of this Faith Shift Group experience?”
Here are some of the answers shared:
One participant said:
“Give permission to not be worried about trying to find an answer.”
Another said:
“Treat it as another step on the journey that may or may not reveal something.”
Someone else reflected:
“You're all on a journey together. No one has all the answers.”
Another:
“To tell the truth and permission to listen.”
I think this is one of the most important things I have learned. We don't have to figure it all out.
We don't have to know where the journey is taking us.
We don't have to replace one set of certainties with another.
We can pause.
We can breathe.
We can be curious.
We can find these pockets of belonging on the way.
We don’t have to do it alone.
And perhaps this is one of the greatest gifts of faith shifting:
Learning that uncertainty and not knowing doesn't have to be something we escape from but can be something that liberate us, towards discovering our true self, our humanity and beautiful humility. We can simply be where we are. And trust that, in time, the way forward may become clearer. I certainly have come to believe in a God whose mystery and presence encourages this kind of remaking, restoring, with gentle honesty and authenticity
So maybe the invitation isn't to arrive at certainty, but to make peace with the road itself. To let not-knowing be a companion rather than an enemy to fear. Learning to remain, even if uncomfortable, not rushing past this tender, liminal, formative place, in search of answers that were never really the point.
I don't have it all figured out. I'm not sure I ever will, but I'm learning to trust the mystery I find myself held by - a God, loving presence, who seems less interested in certainty than courage and kindness and connectivity and in the process of becoming, unfolding, remaking, restoring, enlivening, caring - gently, patiently, again and again.
Perhaps that's enough for today. Perhaps it always was.
Next instalment coming soon… Coming Home To Ourselves…