I used to belong to the Do Not Do group. Legalism was the brand of Christianity I lived and breathed. I had a lot of expectations for others and held myself to the same standards. It was important for me to be perfect. I followed all the rules. When I realized I’d broken one, I worked myself sick trying to change. I wanted to be loved. I thought this was how you get love.

By some people’s standards, I was the model Christian.

It’s taken me a long time to finally be at peace with the idea that being a good person is more important than being a good Christian.

It’s also taken me a long time to recognize my privilege.

Following all the rules is easy for someone who is white, English-speaking, heterosexual, able-bodied, financially stable, of average intelligence, and married with two healthy children. It wasn’t hard for me to blend in with the Christian crowd and follow all their rules, because the crowd looked/acted/thought like me.

Suddenly I knew what it felt like to follow all the rules and still have everything crash and burn around you.

All of that imploded when I got divorced. Suddenly I was not in the happy majority of happily married heteros. No longer could I make judgments about others’ relationship fallouts or their non-traditional partner choices, because suddenly I knew what it felt like to follow all the rules and still have everything crash and burn around you.

Losing my marriage felt like losing my identity. At least, the identity I had pieced together, based on my handy dandy Do Not Do list.

It also happened to be a great place to start accepting others as they are, to stop trying to cram them into a set of expectations I had for them. It was a great time to finally accept who I was and let some of my expectations for myself crash and burn up, too.