I’ve been listening more these days. Really listening. The shallow God and Jesus answers I learned in Sunday School are no longer given in response to the very real struggles of others.

The religion of love that I white-knuckled for so long has shown it’s ugly truth. The rules and expectations cloaked as protection for righteous and godly living are, I’ve found, nothing more than a means of control and behavior management. And those who refuse to comply find little in the way of love or compassion.

The expressed judgements of many leaders make clear their thoughts and opinions on subjects, there is a right and a wrong. There seems little capacity for middle ground, no grace for “I don’t know.” For everything, it seems, there must be an absolute.

But, life is complicated. And I am no longer comfortable with man’s feeble attempts at explaining away that which is very [very] complex.

Last week a young pastor named Jarrid Wilson took his own life. He was only 30 years old, leaving behind a wife, two small children and a grieving community of family and friends

What seems to have struck a cord with so many is that Jarrid was “doing everything right.” He was open and honest about his own struggles, took medication and even started an organization to help others struggling with similar mental health issues.

So how does this happen? And why?

I don’t know.

I have never struggled with a mental illness. I can only imagine the torment of such hopelessness. What hell one must be battling to entertain the thoughts of suicide, what desperation to act upon such thoughts.

It’s heartbreaking and overwhelming.

Over the last several years, many church leaders have become more vocal about mental illness, most of whom have actually struggled with mental illness themselves. Unfortunately, though, the Church largely still seems to be a place of resistance, brushing aside mental illness as mere sadness while preaching against depression with slogans such as “choose joy” instead.

As if choosing were the issue; as if someone battling a mental illness just needs a simple reminder to choose joy. But, I don’t think it’s at all that simple. I know it’s not–I’ve been listening.

Suicide is not the only issue that I’m revisiting and challenging my original thoughts and views about. There are many. Growing up I was so concerned about being good and doing right; today I am more concerned with being kind and showing love.

I don’t know is no longer a phrase I fear. I do not know or understand a lot of the happenings in our world. I do know, however, that I want to be known more for the love I have for people than for the hate I have regarding certain issues.

I never want to find myself fighting against anything more than I am fighting for anyone.

Love requires a laying down, a setting aside, a willingness to concern ourselves with the concerns of others. The world doesn’t need the Church to point her fingers in rebuke; the world needs the Church to extend her reach and open her arms in a welcomed embrace.

Perhaps if the church will start confessing the three powerful words of “I don’t know” in response to the hard and mess of a broken world, people will finally start hearing and receiving her words of “I love you.”