Fearless Faith

So, 2024 is beginning to wind down amid some of the most childish and rancorous hyperbole attendant to presidential politics in modern history. Each party’s gloves are off, political prizefighters championed with ferocity by their respective corners and coached into landing every possible blow to inflict the most damage. The greatest damage, however, is not to the opponents, but to the very soul of the country. Is there yet a place for religiosity to ease our pain?

I am a late sixties, white, prototypical professional American male. I have worked hard at life to be a decent person in spite of my share of baggage and imperfect propensities of which I am too familiar.

I pastor a small church where people seek out my wisdom in roles of counselor, advocate, confessor and saint. I carry out those duties with far less alacrity than people suppose, yet over time I pursue the fantasy that in some small way I might have helped gentle and no-so-gentle souls make sense of their life journey as well as their connectedness to the common spirit of humanity.

The equation is hardly balanced. I receive more blessings through others than I am able to dole out on my own, with or without divine assistance. Through the grace of my spouse, my work with the church is non-salaried, thus I am freer to act and speak than others bound to similar conventions.

I do not wear the title of reverend comfortably. I have donned varieties of vocational mantles: primary parent, dairy farmer, public health inspector, paperboy and pizza delivery guy. I confused graduate degrees in science, law and theology with wisdom and after six decades have concluded I don’t know a doggone thing.

At great risk of oversimplification, I avoid the ‘Christian’ label as much as possible. It seems that many followers of the first-century carpenter Jesus have lost their way, mired in unhelpful dogma and doctrine. I am no longer able to rationalize literal renderings of scripture. Humankind has had too many years to screw up the original inspiration and intent of those ancient texts. Scripture must be placed in context for it to carry significant meaning. Literalism denies such leeway.

I frequently challenge why we do what we do in churches. What is the nature of grace? What are we to do with prayer? What theories of atonement has the church kept from us? That Jesus died on the cross for the sins of humanity is but one view. There are many of us who refuse to paint the Divine Parent as sacrificial abuser of his or her own child. And how do we understand the concept of forgiveness when we fear the notion of a condemning, vengeful god? If God is the ultimate power, are not grace and forgiveness attainable for all without condition? Bear with me while I confess that the decidedly human construct “Are you saved?” is no longer part of my lexicon.

No coercion in religion and the honoring of individual conscience in matters of faith are core values ably regarded by our founding fathers. I covet coffee over such topics with modern day spiritual adventurers, but only if we enter such conversation with the intent to leave and return as friends. Absolutism and willful ignorance are the greatest dangers to religion for this and future generations. I am deeply concerned about the peril that radical fundamentalism poses to humanity, fundamentalism that is also fully present in Christianity.

My own matrix of understanding and experience is uniquely mine, tempered by community and populated by others who share various points along the theological continuum. Why is that important? Because I must provide evidence of my own transparency and beliefs before I have standing to challenge the beliefs and behaviors of others. Are those conversations even possible? I raise the expectation that spiritual community can rise above itself as one model of behavior that greater society can heed. It is a lofty endeavor, amplified by the need for a deeper understanding of our relationship with The Divine, a thoughtful and considerate approach that offers light and grace to a world desperate for both.