Until It Tore
When the Faith You Built No Longer Fits
When the Faith You Built No Longer Fits
⏳ 4 min read
You don’t notice it at first.
A tug. A pull.
It still mostly fits. You just have to stretch it. Shift your shoulders. Ignore the tightness when you reach too far.
You tell yourself it’s fine.
You work with it. You work around it.
You try to convince yourself that maybe you’re just being too sensitive.
That things are supposed to feel stiff sometimes.
That a good thing just needs breaking in, not throwing out.
But there comes a day —
If you stretch it too far —
when the jacket rips.
Maybe it starts with a quiet tear you barely notice.
Maybe it rips, loud and sudden, before you even realize you moved too fast.
But either way, it happens.
And in that moment, you know:
it can’t carry you anymore.
It’s not because it was bad.
It’s because you have changed.
And no amount of patching will make it fit again.
That moment — the rip — is what awakening feels like.
Awakening isn’t some grand enlightenment.
It’s not a bolt of lightning.
It’s the simple, aching honesty of realizing that what once fit — beautifully, perfectly — no longer does.
It’s the moment when you can’t unknow what you know.
You can’t squeeze back into the life, or the faith, or the self you’ve outgrown.
You’re left standing there, torn jacket in hand, staring at a future you didn’t plan for — and a past you can’t climb back into.
In that moment, you have a choice.
You can pretend it didn’t happen.
Try to patch it up.
Try to force it to fit, even as it pinches, chafes, and splits wider with every move.
Or you can admit it.
You can honor what the jacket was —
everything it carried you through, every place it protected you —
and still lay it down.
You can let yourself step, jacketless and uncertain, into the work of finding a new one.
One that fits who you are becoming — even if you can't see the full shape of it yet.
It won’t feel the same right away.
It might feel stiff, awkward, even wrong at first.
You’ll miss the softness of what you had.
You’ll grieve the way it once moved with you.
But as you stretch, stumble, and live,
the new jacket will soften too.
It will stretch in the right places.
It will grow worn with love.
It will become something real, something earned.
Until, someday, you’ll outgrow that one too.
And you’ll know it — not because you failed,
but because you lived.
Awakening isn’t a single moment.
It’s a rhythm woven into the life of anyone brave enough to grow.
Over and over again:
Stretch.
Tighten.
Rip.
Begin again.
Each time, becoming more ourselves.
Each time, stepping closer to a faith — and a life — that fits.
Maybe you’re feeling it now.
The stretch.
The tightness.
The little rips beginning at the seams.
Maybe you’ve been tugging at the jacket for a long time, telling yourself it still fits if you just adjust the way you move.
Maybe you’re standing there, jacket torn in your hands, trying to decide what comes next.
This is awakening.
It’s not a moment of mastery.
It’s a moment of honesty.
The moment when you stop forcing what no longer fits, and start listening for what’s calling you forward.
Awakening isn’t the end of your faith.
It’s the beginning of a new way of living —
One that breathes, stretches, and carries you into who you were made to become.
Stretch. Tighten. Rip. Begin again.
-Scott
Scott is a soul in process, a husband, father, and a son relearning what it means to be held while translating mystery into something we can hopefully feel.