Right into my 30s I lived a version of Christianity that required that I was #hashtagblessed and "happy" (because "rejoice always"). Right up until I was forced out of a church due to my epilepsy/undiagnosed autism - they changed the way they did the flashy lights very slightly

Which meant I had migraines and needed to sleep all afternoon. Emails, informal discussion led to a Meeting. They said they weren't changing anything but would not let me leave the meeting until I said I was okay. Which I wasn't. So I said if I say I'm OK will you let me leave?

Sat in the car for a good 15 minutes sobbing- never felt so rejected and unloved as then because it was church - the church is supposed to love us as we are. I remember my prayer from that day.

"Well God, at least you still love me."

Couldn't even think about church for 6

Months after that. I carry the scars of that encounter to this day ... probably always will.

But it led me to a place where I could deconstruct everything about what makes my faith my faith.

My answer - God loves us and we have, each of us, value and worth just as we are.

This is my #lamentstory. This is is why I don't believe God expects us to always be "happy". Because life is hard and people are cruel - often without realising.
But there is a story after the #lament. It didn't end there. Took a long time.

Rox

Addendum- this story is more than just a call for inclusion and change, although these are important. It's a call to make space for the expression of the hurt, frustration and even rage that happens in the face of person and systemic injustice, trauma and hurt.

If we can allow space for the "negative" emotions - to process those, to safely express and acknowledge them - it becomes so much easier to find solutions and heal relationships.
We need to stop brushing things under the carpet in the name of "looking like I'm fine."

As important as inclusion is, we need to make a different kind of space for those who have been hurt by the lack of inclusion.

"But we fixed it now" or "its not that bad" won't cut it.

Making space for difficult questions and experiences matters.