My Faith Journey

As a child, i envisioned God from the image of the Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, a great, giant, all-seeing being, Santa Claus on steroids, all-powerful in the ways of humankind. Mysterious, unreachable.

As a teen, I struggled with the dichotomy of rationalism vs. faith. We learned in science classes about the Big Bang, multiverses, and of course evolution, and in history we learned about the humiliation of William Jennings Bryant at the Scopes “monkey trial”. With prayer and faith banned from schools, our church carried on with a vibrant youth group and active adult Christian education in a parallel journey of discovery of a different kind. (Render unto Caesar…). In college, even more a desert of faith, I attended church only twice, and only on Easter. In my ’20’s, trying to figure out the world as a young urban professional, there seemed to be no room, no reason, for religion. And yet, we never considered being married in anywhere other than a church, and as it turned out, in the same church, and by the same minister, who led me in youth group, fifteen years earlier.

Once married, we were drawn back to church; more to give God His due than a spiritual need or yearning. But two ideas struck me in those early days as a young adult. First, I was curious about some of the men at church, older than I, but not yet old, regulars, leaders, who lived with a purpose, and a faith that I envied. I wondered, wouldn’t it be cool to get what they got. The second was an appreciation of how our minister could consistently weave ancient stories from the Bible into guidance for a broad spectrum of contemporary life challenges. It occurred to me that those old men in beards and robes might actually have known something about life, about humanity, that demanded some attention. Maybe we 30-somethings didn’t have all the answers after all. While not yet ‘all-in’, topics discussed in church cultivated a growing moral and spiritual consciousness.

In 1988 my pregnant wife was in a terrible car accident. Bad. By the time she was home from the hospital a few weeks after the accident, with a hospital bed in the downstairs living room, we had been set up with meals from church, every Thursday (our choice of frequency and dates), and visits for as long and often as needed. (2 years). Faith and Spirit aside, our church provided a service steeped in community care that we had not expected, and valuable way beyond getting a casserole from a different family each week. We found ourselves on the receiving end of a common theme, experienced through life: If you’ve ever volunteered in a place after a major disaster, or places that are ongoing disasters (like soup kitchens), you’ve seen that Christians, from all over, are always there too.

We wanted our children exposed to church to provide them a foundation to make informed choices for a life with faith – or not – as adults…as we had from our families. So we attended church most Sundays, they learning about Moses and Noah, God and Jesus, as we continued to learn how the Spirit might guide us in an increasingly agnostic and chaotic world. It was in this period that our (then new) pastor said something foundational, an epiphany at the time, but borne out as remarkably true. In her own faith journey, she had found that deliberate exploration, even with fits and starts through life, would reset periodic high-water marks of faith. Meaning, once you get to a certain point of understanding, of faith in God, and internalizing a meaningful relationship with Jesus, you rarely backslide. You have that mark to hold on to, before moving further, more deeply, ahead. She was so right.

My journey had begun to recognize the difference between rationalism - wherein science has answered and will continue to answer life's mysteries traditionally ascribed to God - and faith. I still hold on to a rational reason for my faith: the volume of human wisdom concentrated in the many books of the Bible: a staunch guidepost for navigating a chaotic world. My mental health benefits. But there's so much more!

I became a middle school youth group leader when my children were in that program, mostly to be with them, like coaching. Our objective was not to replicate Sunday School, but simply to make church a safe, fun place for kids. Having been a camp counselor in my youth, this was an easy lift, but less about faith than about safe. (And the angels said, “Fear not.”)

My mid-life high-water mark rose substantially when I volunteered to teach confirmation class the year our younger son began that program. Our pastor at the time ran it the first year, I as his understudy. Those seven years began and cemented a true relationship with Jesus Christ. The program ran for 14 weeks, two hours Sunday nights, exploring the life of Jesus: his birth, his teachings, the crucifixion and resurrection. Our only reference was the 4 gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Simple, unfiltered. At the conclusion, we’d spend a weekend off-site for the kids to answer, spending hours writing about, two questions: What does it mean to be a Christian? (To follow Jesus). And, do you want to be a Christian? (Do you want to follow Jesus?… and officially join the church as an adult).

Two themes stuck: First, these are 8th graders, going through major change, physically, emotionally, intellectually, influenced by family, school and social forces all affecting their trajectories in life. Having an opportunity to provide a foundation to these kids for a life with purpose, a connection to Jesus, was a gift I’ll always cherish. (Side note: not all the youth buy-in, but each year as the 8th-graders present their insight and beliefs to our church community, there are often 9th or 10th graders too, who just needed more time to say, yes, I want to follow Jesus now also. These were particularly meaningful for me.). Second, preparation for 14 lessons from the Gospels, to discuss the topics properly, taught to a fresh group each year, took me deeper into the texts, seeking connections to contemporary life, each successive year. An education, an exploration. The research, the reflections, the feedback, – the deliberate exploration – let me discover how rich a relationship with God can be. It’s not just for kids.

Today we have drifted from the church I grew up in because an associate pastor uses the pulpit to promote a progressive agenda that we find divisive within the congregation and offensive to us. History is replete with ideologues who cloak their motives with religion for legitimacy or credibility and this self-indulgence was tiresome. Some say we should be more open to seeking God’s purpose within these ideas, but the vitriol is palatable, and always predictable. We prefer church as sanctuary from all that noise. The departure was hard, especially the absence of thought-provoking messages from our lead pastor, but the search is its own journey with new appreciation for how much our former church does offer, as well as exposure to the nuances and different perspectives from varied communities right in our neighborhood. Christianity has such depth, such richness; there is plenty of room for interpretations and applications that are meaningful in different ways to different people. We still visit our home church on occasion, but find plenty of rich and thought provoking examination of the Bible on YouTube and in podcasts. (Tim Keller is a great one).

During Lent this year, as coronavirus keeps us at home, we have participated in our own home church ceremonies, online. It’s easy to close the device when a discussion on health devolves into the progressive altars. We often visit instead our former pastor’s church (whom I began Confirmation with), or my sister’s daily Facebook messages, only a click away. A downside to this digital trend is the certain effect on small rural centers of worship. The mega-churches whose primary function is fund-raising, (a far worse transgression than ideological hijacking in my opinion), is that these organizations have already mastered digital delivery. We pray that the small, local groups that worship together, in close personal contact, are not superseded by these opportunistic charlatans. They are bad for vulnerable Christians (and their pocketbooks), as well as the perception of Christianity within society. “You brood of vipers…”

The journey continues. My relationship with God, and with Jesus, keeps me grounded to permit broad spiritual exploration. Continued, deliberate exploration will as surely yield new meaning and understanding of God and His Will in my life as the wandering path has in the past. May the tide continue to rise.