Edge of the Bubble

Picture by Alexa on Pixabay

I realized I was living in a bubble when I bumped up against the edge. I’d always been the darling, the one who worked her butt off to say yes, and to do it well. Working with kids kept me pretty much out of controversy for years. I was the cheerful one, often patted on the head, rarely invited into the decision-making room. I did the best I could with what was decided by others.

And then I did something that they didn’t like. I continued to be friends with someone who’d been seen as not part of the group anymore. By association, it was assumed I believed what they believed, without ever asking me. It went from smiles in the halls to avoiding eye contact. I was told that “people had been saying” that I believed these things, and perhaps I should apologize publicly. I was never told who was saying those things, I was ever allowed to explain myself, and not one of the people saying these things had come to me personally to talk about—after decades of friendship.

So this is what it meant to live in a bubble. Until you hit the edges, you don’t even really know you are in one. Often, you hit the edges on the way out, as you are pushed out. I was crying on the phone to a friend, huddled on my kitchen floor, feeling immobilized, paranoid that perhaps my neighbor would see and report to “them” (the unknown people talking about me) that I was falling apart.

My friend simply and powerfully said, “Perhaps this is God calling you to show them what it means to disagree on something—and still love them. Can you still love, even if you never get to explain or vindicate yourself? Even if you don’t know who is speaking against you? Can you still serve alongside them in disagreement? Because if you can’t, how are you any different from them? Maybe they just need someone to show them it is possible.”

One of the main tenants of a bubble is that there are clear definitions of what being inside it is, and what being outside it is. You may not know all of the rules—but someone does, and someone will make it clear if they are crossed. Once you know, you have the choice to agree with them and stay inside, or disagree and leave. But what if there were another way? What if you could disagree and still love them. Still be close. Still hold to a God who is bigger than both of you and certainly bigger than this situation? What if you could grow the bubble, without cutting them out?

There certainly are majors and minors. And the argument will continue through history on which is which. There are majors that over history have been proven to be things worth living and dying for. There are majors that will divide, and rightly so. And then there are a multitude of minors that were elevated to majors that have devastated the world. That have destroyed countries, civilizations, cultures, and families. Minors that many people woke up to one day and realized they were on the wrong side of. In the glass half full or half empty world, I live thinking most things are minors until proven wrong. Life just wasn’t meant to be taken that seriously. Me and my opinions weren’t meant to be taken that seriously.

Many things have changed in my life since I hit the edge of the bubble, but realizing one of my callings hasn’t: what does it look like to disagree and still love? It looks like patience for relatives at Thanksgiving. It means starting with common ground rather than rushing to the hot button topics. It means realizing this person in front of me is more important than politics. More important than religion. This person was made by God, and if He loves them, so do I.