There is a new season of Queer Eye on Netflix. And this show, it just gets me in the feels every single time. It's so not about the makeover, friends. It's about the compassion and love shown in every last episode. It's about these five human beings who model humility, compassion, grace, dignity, and forgiveness. It's about their ability to be fully present to someone else's story, to see past all of the externals, and to shed light on the beautiful human being that has been right there all along.
I'm watching an episode this morning about a young, African American, lesbian woman whose religious adoptive parents kicked her out of the house when she came out. It is heartbreaking. She talks about how her whole life she has been told that she is not black enough, not white enough, not straight enough, not gay enough.
Meanwhile, it's been a rough week.
In large part, it's because of a few things that have come up this week that have brought to the surface for me the deep pain that comes from being told, overtly or subtly, that you are not enough. My church experience, the predominant message that I've heard from this church family that told me that they were here for me, that baptized me and welcomed me as one of their own, was that I'm not enough. Not male enough. Not married enough. Not gifted enough. Not humble enough. Too gifted. Too female. Too single. Too outspoken.
I have tried really hard to be gracious. But the truth is, it hurts.
Until eventually I had to walk away, into what felt like the wilderness.
And, as always, it turns out that God meets us so very often in the wilderness.
I am in a very good place now. A place of welcome. A place where the encouragement is freely and frequently offered. A place where nobody is telling me that who I am is not enough.
I'm grateful.
But you don't learn to love yourself in five days, as they say on Queer Eye. And this week, the "not enough"s keep rearing up their ugly little heads.
What strikes me is how deeply painful it is to be told that you're not enough, and how many people hear that message on a daily basis, for so very many different reasons.
And how often we try to hide, to push down those parts of us that we think, that we've been told are not enough.
And how that kind of masking doesn't address the deep pain that's also hiding deep down.
And how much genuine beauty and goodness is hiding out there in this big, beautiful world as a result.
Then, I see the Fab Five do what I pray that I will learn to do better, what I pray that our faith communities can learn to do better: just listen. Their ability to be present to pain and to create space for someone to share their story--all of their story--is inspiring to me. They have an incredible capacity to be present to pain, and not to try to shush it or pamper it away too quickly.
In the process, healing happens.
Beneath all of the labels that we apply to people, beneath all of the stereotypes and fears and boundaries that we erect, is the beautiful, glorious image of God in every created person. I believe this with all of my heart.
I also know how deeply wounding it is when people tell us that who we are is not enough.
And, to my friends in the Church, can I tell you that it's extra damaging when we are the voices telling someone that who God made them is not enough? That speaking as the body of Christ has tremendous power for good, but also for harm?
May we be people who listen deeply.
May we be people who have the capacity to hold the hard as well as the beautiful, and who don't try to quiet either one too quickly.
May we learn to apologize well when we need to, and to forgive when it's appropriate.
May we create space to celebrate difference, to see the beauty in the unexpected, to open ourselves with love.
May we be kind to ourselves, and kind to others.
And may we know that, in God's eyes, we are always, always enough.
You. Are. Enough.
