Check Your Fit!

By Natasha Robinson
CRS Board of Directors
Assistant Teaching Professor at Roosevelt University

A little over a decade ago, I made a major decision. I felt led by the Spirit to leave my childhood home church that nurtured me, raised me, and loved me for thirty years, and connect with another faith community.  It was a decision that shocked quite a few people, but I knew in my heart (I still do) that, at the time, it was the best decision for me.

However, the people who were the most upset with me were my nieces and nephew.  We had attended church together for practically all of their lives.  Although we would still see each other at holiday gatherings and overnights at my house, to them, our family was now fractured.  My nephew, who was six-years-old at the time, questioned me with a quiver in his voice.

“Ta Ta, why are you leaving?  We are a family.”  I calmly explained my decision to him and reassured him that I would be in his life just as much as I had been, but in a different way, as we would be attending separate churches.

“But why are you leaving us?” His emphasis on us stung and I felt in that moment that I had betrayed him.  He did not have the capacity to understand the complexities of “breaking up with a church” and no matter how I rationalized my decision, all he knew was his Ta Ta, who he saw in church almost every Sunday, would be gone.

Holding space for him and his perspective, our conversation unfolded in this way. 

“K.J…You know how you slept in a crib when you were a baby?” 

“Yes.“

“And that crib held you and kept you safe each time you slept in it?”  

“Yes!” 

“Do you sleep in that crib, now that you are 6?”  

He giggled. “Nooooo TaTa.”  

“What do you sleep in now?”  

He turned and pointed to his race car bed, smiling. “That’s my big boy bed now.”  

“Did your crib break and you had to get another bed?”

“No, Ta Ta.  I sleep in my big boy bed because my old bed didn’t fit anymore.”  

“That’s what happened to Ta Ta.  I grew and my old church didn’t fit me anymore.  I had to keep growing.”

And you know what?  He gave me a huge hug and said he understood.

Family, as we enter into the seasonal observation of Lent (for those who engage in this faith practice), in the spaces and places that we occupy in our towns, our cities, our states, our countries, and our worlds, juxtaposed with the multiple pandemics that are currently still occurring in our lives, I suggest we reflect upon what fits and doesn’t fit in our lives. More to the point, as we think about what we are “giving up” and what we are “taking up”, a soft and graceful inquiry can occur around the practice and observance of our Lenten rituals.  For many Christians, individual and communal commitments are made of what will be given up during the 40 day period. There are both personal and collective reflections upon the life and lynching of Jesus Christ and, in solidarity, personal sacrifices are made thinking about what Jesus, according to sacred texts, sacrificed when surrendering his life for the salvation of the world. 

Chocolate. Meat. Alcohol. Social Media. Starches.  Gone.

The lists goes on and, in addition, many of us take on different Lenten practices.  

Meditation. Exercise. Fasting. Study. Journaling. Silence. Contemplation. 

Here to stay for (at least) 40 days.

There are those of us who have been doing this for a while. For years. 

While these rituals and practices can yield several outcomes, one being growing closer to the Divine, my question becomes whether these rituals and practices still fit who you are now.  In several religious, cultural and spiritual traditions, current generations pay homage to their ancestors by practicing revered rituals of old and, at the same time, creating and invoking contemporary iterations of those traditional rituals. Nevertheless, some of us engage in a tradition, practice and/or ritual for the pure sake of doing it because “we’ve always done it this way.”

When I propose we should “check our fit” to make sure what we do fits who we are now, it is not to suggest we ignore and reject all of the old, the tried and true.  Rather, I am saying we can take inventory of our lives and determine who we are now and what we believe in now.  We can also give each other (and ourselves) grace in making these determinations, as sometimes the twin siblings of shame and guilt haunt us and have us believing that what we ultimately choose to do and who we choose to be is selfish and lacking any value that will serve the individual and communal good.

I am here to say to you that it’s okay. Lent is a time of reflection, yes, and it is also a time of refurbishing and replenishing.  How much of a paradigm shift would it be to believe that taking a walk in nature or on a picket line for justice is sacred? That creating a playlist of your favorite songs (religious AND ratchet, if that’s your thing, cause it’s mine–LOL) is divine? That a lively and loud game night (virtual or in-person) is worshiping in community? That refraining from spending money with any business that does not support all Black lives and instead, giving that money in solidarity to organizations and groups charged with demanding reparations, IS holy work?

The pandemic has wreaked havoc in a lot of our lives, mine included.  And at the same time, I have received clarity of thought and peace of mind like never before.  I am getting freer by the day as I determine that the beliefs, practices, places, spaces and people that fit me in one season of my life, no longer do.  That does not make my prior decisions and connections inherently bad or deficient.  It just means I am growing and I am confident about who I am and whose I am.  For me, it is a blessing to “check my fit” and pray that whatever I choose, whatever I believe, whoever I am, is the right fit at the right time for me and those in community with me. I think about the adage, “change is inevitable, growth is optional.”  In the times in which we live, as we reflect upon who we are and who we would like to be, I say, “check your fit.” Grow into who you are, out of who you are no longer, and may grace meet you at all of your new fittings.

Natasha Robinson
CRS Board of Directors
Assistant Teaching Professor at Roosevelt University

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