In the spirit of all the most popular 12-step recovery programs, let me stand before you and make a confession: My name is Mary Ann and I was a college sorority babe. A Chi Omega, to be exact.
Okay, maybe “babe” is a stretch, but bring on the stereotypes. I can take it, because here’s the truth: while I was in a college sorority, the sorority was never in me.
I’m not dissing all college sororities. Not at all. I’m sure most of them are wonderful organizations. And mine was, too. Great gals – nearly all of them were high achievers, physically attractive and socially adept. Some of the cream of the Auburn University crop.
But here’s the problem — I never felt like I was chosen to join Chi Omega because I was a high achiever (though I was, obsessively so), physically attractive (I was woefully average in that department), or socially adept (it’s a long way from the cornfields of Indiana to the cotton fields of Dixie – no one could have mistaken me for a Southern belle).
I knew the Chi Os had chosen me because they had to. My Mom was a Chi Omega, which made me what they call a “legacy” in Sororityland. You get big points for that. Plus, I had a personal letter of recommendation from the national president of the sorority’s alumni association, who was a friend of my parents.
I could have looked and acted like a rabid hyena and those Chi-O’s would have had to invite me to join. Something about that never felt exactly right. Kind of like making your cousin take you to the prom, I guess (although being from Indiana, and not West Virginia, I’ve never dated any of my cousins).
I accepted the invitation to join Chi Omega anyway. I went to chapter meetings, did all the humiliating sorority pledge stuff, put in time and plunked down money. I proudly wore my sorority t-shirts because I hoped they communicated, “Chi Omega chose me. I’m somebody. I belong.” And I tried to believe it was true.
But honestly, I never felt like one of the “sisters.” All the ceremonies, secret handshakes, parties, beach trips and projects never helped me overcome the feeling that I was on the outside, looking in. I never invested my heart in sorority life because deep down, I thought I didn’t have the right stuff to be a Chi O. I was convinced I didn’t belong; I felt like an imposter.
I think there are lots of folks sitting in churches who feel just like I did back in my sorority days.
They “do church” because Mama and Daddy “did” church. Their bodies are parked on the pews, but their hearts are far away. Every Sunday, they feel like imposters and fear that if anyone knew what they were really thinking, feeling, and doing, they’d surely get booted out the door.
Good news: Jesus isn’t into family pedigrees and He doesn’t invite or embrace us because we’re high achievers, physically attractive or socially adept. He knows our weaknesses, welcomes our questions and patiently addresses our doubts. He knows we don’t have the “right stuff,” but He offers us His righteousness, transforming power, and unconditional love.
When we humbly, honestly encounter Jesus, the pretending mercifully ends. Religion becomes relationship; imposters become believers; church members become Christ followers.
And finally…finally…we know we belong.