Walking into an unfamiliar church (which equates to all but 3 on the planet) gives me hives and flashbacks to small town, foreign country new high school nightmares.
All eyes are on you as you walk in with your wrong hair/wrong clothes/wrong accent. Long, painful minutes of judging have already been endured before you cross the threshold to homeroom, and you know you’ve already lost. You don’t know the right things to say, how to say them, when to say them. When it’s okay to laugh, ask questions, or be honest.
The judging doesn’t come from the God I know, it comes from the people in the pews.
My fundamental issues with organized religion may have been burned into my intellectual DNA from my father before I was in the womb: I ask questions, just as he did when he was in seminary. Beyond the students, I find myself scrunching my nose and tilting my head when my teachers speak. When the man or woman with the collective attention leaves out key bits of the stories from the bible - like when telling the story of Abraham and glossing over the fact that he didn’t trust God and bonked a young woman in his wife (Sarah)’s employ in order to secure his lineage (I know, I know, wait for next week).
I still want to know why the first chunk of the bible is chock full of men praying to God for strength to defeat (many times in long, descriptive ways) their enemies, and why this is something frequently and conveniently not mentioned in any church I’ve been to. Why would these men think God would help them destroy his children? Would He?
A people watcher by nature, it’s also and incredible struggle for me to sit in a church and not be distracted by the guy behind me who is over acting. Who saves twenty spots then talks on his cell until service starts trying to find his “friends” and get them to sit with him. Who talks too loud with said friends while I’m trying to plug in and be present. Who sings at the top of his lungs. Should I be jealous of his faith? Of his ability to let it all hang out there? Do I have the patience or tolerance to befriend him, that maybe one day he would be comfortable enough with his faith and himself that he could worship quietly like the other parishioners? Who’s to say I’m right or wrong or he’s right or wrong in the way we observe? Should I talk to him about seeking a future leading a ministry, if he’s got that kind of energy to share?
As I said - I was raised asking questions. I wasn’t encouraged to fit a mold and it was just ducky when I made waves, which works out well because that just so happens to be a natural skill I posess.
I want these people to ask questions. I want them to allow themselves to cock their heads to the side like I did when they skipped the bit about Ole Abe and The Tale of The Wandering Pelvis. I want them to get fired up and be moved and to feel it and I want them to feel like they own their spirituality. I don’t want to find myself in a pen of sheep, stepping in their muck.
Over the years I’ve had at least a hundred conversations about blind faith, about it being as for us to explain and wrap our minds around as infinity. It’s a word and a concept that you think you know, but until you’ve experienced infinity, you don’t really know what it is, do you?
So yeah. This is a good chunk of why I’m spiritually homeless, and why, right now thisveryminute, I’m perfectly okay in my cardboard box on the side of the freeway. Because really, I like it here with the God I know, and I believe that if I’m patient and I work for it, and look for it, I’ll find the perfect house for me eventually.
Maybe it’ll be the one that sparked this post, maybe it won’t. Either way I’m glad that fire was reignited, and I’m glad it got me thinking. And I’m looking forward to that house, because it will be mine and I’ll have finally come home.
28 Jun 08
1:26 pm
great post. i have gone through phases of struggling with finding a home for church. sometimes it’s because the theology preached from the pulpit is not something i can get my head around. as an example, there are people that i call 1st timothy christians, because they seem to take the theology of the pastoral letters as the most important documents - and i cannot gel with that.
sometimes its the people.
either way, in the end i tried to find some nexus of acceptable theology and decent community that would allow me to believe in the manner in which i do, while still feeling the community of those who belive somewhat similar to me.
in the end, i have found that finding anyone who buys exactly what i do is tough, but finding a place where the core is the same isn’t.
good luck in your search.
28 Jun 08
11:29 pm
Hypocrisy…that’s what bothers me about organized religion. There they are preaching a certain belief or way of life, while doing just the opposite. Maybe its just the Catholics, but I think not. So, I just stay home. I think I sin less in the long run. I’m sure it’s obvious that I have church issues
03 Jul 08
1:53 pm
This post reminds me of my pal in the pacnw (jeffberryman.com). It reminds me of the conversations, the coffee (I don’t live there, just visit) and what for me is the dilemma of religion in general. The number one is the number one no matter which way I spell it, speak it or say it. Uno, Jeden, Ich, One…. 1 = 1.
Or so it seems to me. (must not leave out the post-modern uncertain/perception is reality caveat =)
I guess for me religion is like a language, and while any language may be a slave to my ego and it’s frailities, I guess for me that doesn’t mean it’s a language not to be spoken. I’m not one to particularly ‘like’ church. So I guess for me some churches are like languages or idioms that I’m not too particularly fond of. Or are chock full of folks speaking that particular language in ‘that’ certain particular ‘way’ that I find so irksome. Of course there but for the grace of God go I.
I guess “I” “you” “we” perhaps humankind in general….all speak some language of faith. So much is unknown to me about this life, so much is so readily assumed by my feeble mind.
Unknowns aside, and fully uncertain….still, like your bud Jas, I still have to click in, or lace up and commit to the race, and take the proverbial leap of faith. I may not know what’s going to happen, but if I don’t commit, I may never get to enjoy the ride. (Maybe I’ve just “let” “you” talk me into commiting to some sort of church, some sort of spiritual group sharing in lifes event….tsk tsk)
And as much as I like to commit it’s sure fun to explore spirituality —just how does one describe that which “is” even if they percieve it not.
Now that i’m thinking of it, maybe we are all spiritually homeless in some sense of the world. Maybe ‘our’ faculties of cognition are too limited to grasp more than the tiny moment of space and time each individual occupies at any given moment. Maybe that’s the point of ‘finding’ a spiritual home…a place to share that sense of homelessness…to reach out beyond one’s private little box and allow one or two more to come and huddle with each other in the face of lifes blizzards or laugh and bask together in the face of lifes sunshine.
Now i better quit b/4 I get too emo and wanna pew’k. =0
Thanks for the thoughts. As always your Irish flavored pixils are most palatible
07 Jul 08
5:21 pm
This dialog makes me happy. Not happy because we’re all clearly dancing with and around and on our own faith, but happy because we can have a dialog about it.
@ james - you’re on it. my shaking and rattling will probably not match anyone else’s rhythms exactly…my quest is to find those willing to play along side and jam. I think I’m close - if not there - but still need my heart to join me in the letting go to find out.
@ Louise - it’s definately *not* just the catholics.
@ Chris - I love the language analogy. Your “is” and “is not” makes me want to send you a copy of The Shack.
22 Aug 08
1:07 pm
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