You do not have to be good.
You do not have to be good.
The first time I read the poem by Mary Oliver, which starts with this line, it took my breath away. It felt both horrifying and liberating.
Horrifying because in many ways my life was built around being good.
I am the eldest daughter. I was always one of those children that teachers called a "delight" to teach. I grew up in a church culture that gave me much to treasure but also reminded me over and over that God expected, even demanded, my obedience, and that would look like being a good girl. So I made that my one job and I excelled at it for a long time.
The sting of goodness is felt when it is anchored in an authority outside of ourselves: parents, teachers, church leaders. As long as someone else holds the key to what goodness is, that goodness will suck us dry. We will tie ourselves up in ever increasing knots of anxiety, judgement and longing trying to meet their expectations, never finally sure if we are good ENOUGH.
Often a big part of a faith shift or deconstruction is becoming aware of some of the narratives that seemed beneficial but have in fact been draining the life from us. We start to examine them and then either discard or reframe them.
I hear this particular narrative emerging in conversations with many of my directees: that their worth is in their ability to obey the rules, rather than in their inherent belovedness. They are focused on getting it right, staying within the lines, but in the process they have lost sight of their own souls and the God who wants to encounter them there.
Sometimes they need to hear me say: “You do not have to be good.”
The space of spiritual direction is not a space of measuring up. Here, there are no standards to meet or expectations to satisfy. Here, it is not necessary to be theological correct or biblically “sound”. Here, you don’t need to break yourself to prove your worthiness.
You only need, as Mary Oliver continues, to "let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."
It is an invitation to exhale, to unclench fists, to let down the facade in safety, an invitation to let the voice of desire be heard. And from there, we have the chance to explore with honesty and vulnerability and courage what it might look like to encounter the kind of God about whom we say:
“He brought me out to a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.”
Love is a faithful guide. Love will never place anything ill-fitting on you. Love will not require you to be anything you are not, but Love will invite you to step fully into your dazzling wholeness.
Questions for you and your directees:
When have you witnessed a narrative or theology that seemed helpful become an unhelpful constraint in your directees’ lives?
How do you understand the function of permission-giving in spiritual companioning? What might it enable? What might be the dangers?
How might you finish this sentence for your own spiritual journey: “I do not need to be…”
Fiona Koefoed-Jespersen
Fiona Koefoed-Jespersen is a spiritual companion and the Team Lead Tutor on the third year of the Encounter course. She lives in Copenhagen with her family, seeks the sacred in the ordinary and delights in holding space for people's shifting faith stories. When she has any free time, you’ll find her in the garden with dirt on her hands or out walking with her dog.
Website: https://www.ordinarypilgrim.co.uk/
Instagram: http://instagram.com/fionalynne/