I have a dozen drafts scattered in folders on different laptops and on pages in different journals where I’ve tried to write an essay, or maybe a poem, called “Tethered.”
I have this mental image of string, thread, rope as a metaphor for my life and faith.
It feels like the perfect metaphor, yet I still struggle to find the words to capture it.
The thing about a thread, a rope, is that it can be knotted up and tangled, and my faith is often like that. The term “deconstruction” is fraught with the peril of misunderstanding, and I think I’ve seen other people use the term “untangling” instead. It makes me jealous I didn’t say it first because “untangling” is exactly it, the perfect word for the working through of faith that has never let me be.
For me, doubts and questions and study and investigation have never been about tearing down but about sorting through, like trying to get the tiny knots out of a delicate gold chain, picking and pulling with care—not to destroy or to discard but to get the necklace back to its truest and intended form, unknotted and glittering and wearable.
And threads can be woven, a great tapestry, all the pieces coming together into something magnificent we can’t quite see until we have the right vantage point. Another teacher and author I admire
titled her book about nurturing faith in families Woven, and I was jealous of that title too. Because that is exactly it too.
Faith is woven, all the threads of life and love and story and Scripture and song coming together. A collage. A tapestry. A masterpiece in progress that can feel complicated and look like a bit of a mess while it’s still in process.
In this metaphor, Jesus is the loom, “and by Him all things hold together,” all the threads finding their place in the bigger picture as He pulls them into all the right places.
Those woven threads can also be like a net—but not in a way that traps you. Like a safety net that catches you when you free fall or like a hammock where you find rest.
And a rope can be like the tether of an anchor, which has long been at the top of my list of favorite metaphors for faith in Jesus who holds me fast—my great high priest within the veil (which I suppose is woven too), my hope for the soul, firm and secure.
I tried to write part of this out in an Instagram post once over two years ago, and I wrote,
I feel so *held* by God. So securely tethered to Him—by His doing not mine. And I feel like every question I’ve ever dared ask and every rebellion or rejection I’ve ever attempted have all just served to draw me closer.
Like I’m pulling the thread, tugging on the rope, and every pull just brings me closer to Him holding me on the other end of the line. A tug of war with the very anchor holding me fast. A climb up a mountain, each grasp of the rope bringing me nearer to its source.
I have a playlist (shocker) titled “Pulling the Thread,” and a surprising number of the songs actually include some sort of thread, rope, or anchor metaphor. There’s a Jason Gray song actually called “Tethered” that even includes my favorite part of Psalm 139. All of the songs have something in them that speaks to the experience of finding myself here in the faith, still.
All the questions. All the uncertainty. All the hole-poking and navel-gazing. All the reasons I can name to walk away, but I am still here. I’m tethered, anchored, woven in, resting in the hammock or caught in the net of His love. Either way, I’m here, and I think I always will be. Where else would I go?
Where can I go to escape your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to heaven, you are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
Psalm 139:7-8
Lord, to whom will we go? You have the words of eternal life.
John 6:68
This morning, Skye Peterson gave me a new song to add to the top of this playlist dedicated to the paradox of doubt and belief.
She released her album All the Difference today, and I stopped in my tracks on the song “Calling You My Lord.” It may be the new theme song of whatever it is I’m trying to say here.
And what did she write about this song on her track list on social media?
As introduction to this song, Skye wrote, “Something is keeping me tethered to God and I don’t think it has to do with me.”
It sounds quite a bit like what I’ve been trying to say for years, “I feel so *held* by God. So securely tethered to Him—by His doing not mine.”
Lots of people keep saying it first and better, and I could keep being jealous of them. Or I could take it as a hint that what feels really poignant and like the perfect metaphor just out of reach is actually one that’s already been explored and used quite a bit, it turns out.
But for me, it’s not tired at all. After years of trying to unwind it into words, it still feels fresh, and every time another writer, another singer, alludes to the image in their mind that matches mine, I’m delighted again.
Another thread finds its place on the loom. The picture gets a little clearer.
I’m held here, and there are others here, looking for the words and the hope and the beauty and redemption too.
And I don’t think I’m going anywhere. Why would I want to?
I’m still not sure.
It’s still not clear.
But year after year,
Tear after tear,
I am still here
Calling You my Lord.
Skye Peterson “Calling You My Lord”
Thanks be to God.