Finding a place to call home

14 February 2022

Where misfits fit in and belong

Words Belinda Cassie

It might be surprising to hear this, but I don’t often feel like I fit in. 

In high school, when all the other girls had NKOTB (New Kids on the Block) and Brad Pitt posters on their walls, I had posters that mapped out the career paths I could take by studying chemistry, biology, and physics. 

Right alongside those, I had a pinboard that held a bunch of quotes I’d pulled from Bertolt Brecht plays and a ticket stub from the first time I saw his play The Caucasian Chalk Circle. 

I guess it is fortunate that I was somewhat of a chameleon in high school and would shape myself to at least look like I fitted in there – or perhaps it’s not so fortunate when I really think about it. 

I’m not entirely sure that much has changed. I still don’t necessarily fit in. I’m just learning to embrace it better. I mean, the church world isn’t exactly busting at the seams with heavily tattooed pastors with a bunch of piercings. But even with that in mind, the fact that I am a white, university-educated, cisgendered woman already opens doors for me in many places, including church circles, that are more often than not closed to people of colour or those without access to education or our transgender siblings. 

A friend of mine was visiting earlier this year, and sometimes she needs to use a wheelchair. On one particular day when the chair was necessary, we drove to another town nearby to go exploring. Or at least we would have liked to have explored this stunning locale, with its phenomenal scenic views and quaint shops and cafes. Except, as it turns out, nothing was wheelchair accessible. Nothing. The doors were all too narrow for the chair, and even if they hadn’t been, they all had stair access only. 

So, we got back in the car and drove home again. I think I was more disappointed and angry for my friend than she was. In fact, she seemed resigned to it, having not been able to cross thresholds because of lack of access so many times in the past. That day was not a new experience for her.

SIMPLE INCLUSION

We hear the term ‘inclusion’ a lot these days. And it seems it is often turned into this big complex concept with clashing ideologies and theologies and a bunch of other ‘ologies’. And perhaps I am naive, but I don’t think it needs to be. I don’t think it’s hard at all. In one of the stories in the Bible, Jesus said this, “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed planted in a field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but it becomes the largest of garden plants; it grows into a tree, birds come and make nests in its branches” (Matthew chapter 13, verses 31-32, New Living Translation). 

It’s one of my favourite of Jesus’ analogies – that a tiny seed can grow into a tree for all the birds to come and find a space, with branches large enough to provide shade for all as well. There is room in the branches, and on the ground beneath, for every type of bird to come and safely nest. 

If Jesus described the Kingdom of Heaven like that, as a space for all to find a place to call home, to belong, shouldn’t our spaces, our community places, our places of worship, our workplaces, be the same? Shouldn’t they all be places in which anyone, regardless of whether they look like us, or speak like us, or love like us, can find a place to belong? 

I want to be part of something where the doors are wide and open and accessible to all. Where the misfits find a place where they can be themselves, where people from the LGBTQIA+ community are affirmed and celebrated, where those on the margins know they have a seat at the table – because they helped prepare it. Where a weird teenager who loves science and controversial German playwrights and tattoos could grow up to be a pastor who believes that when the Bible says that “whosoever may come”, that whosoever really means everyone – no matter what. 

That, to me, feels a lot like the Kingdom of Heaven that the Jesus I know talked about.