When You've Outgrown Church

One of my girls has a cute little pair of black, glittery shoes she absolutely loved.

And, one day, she grew out of them.

Oh that was sad. She kept trying to cram her foot back in. And it worked for awhile. Until it didn't. She still loves looking at them. But it's a little bittersweet.

You know, baby birds outgrow the nest.

Sometimes they don't want to fly, I imagine. They're not good at it the first try. But then, they learn. And they take flight.

Because they're supposed to.

What if organized religion was always supposed to be more like a nest? A place where we begin. A place where we learn, where we grow?

But then, one day, we outgrow it.

We outgrow having a "parent figure" teaching us about God,

when we wake up to our own embodiment of God.

We outgrow giving money to an organization,

when we'd rather see it spent on transformation.

We outgrow our religious duty checklist,

And wake up to the never-ending intimacy of His Spirit within.

What if it's not only ok to outgrow religion—

What if that was the whole point?

I remember the day my parents dropped me off at my college dorm room. Oh I cried! I was so excited—to be there, with my friends, so ready for the all the adventures and the freedom. But I mourned the final chapter of my childhood, too.

What if that's all ok?

What if outgrowing religion was the point all along?

What if embodying love was the ultimate goal?

...and what if this was the point Jesus was trying to make?