I recently had a dream about a church. It was one of those mega-churches that make some stare in wonder and others grimace at the unnecessary cost that went into its construction. I attended the entire service, going through rituals I’ve been born and raised with: herds of various age groups dispersing to sunday school, the firm handshakes and soft hugs as the masses gather, a powerful display of an animated choir, the passionate, red-faced sermon of the baptist minister. It was all so familiar, yet it all seemed like a distant memory echoing through my heart. I woke up feeling an odd mixture of nostalgia and guilt that left me a bit sick to my stomach. I wanted to go back. Back to what I used to believe.
I can’t though. That’s not who I am anymore.
It was like termites got inside of me and started gnawing it to sawdust, little by little. Despite my best efforts, my spiritual conviction was waning. I never doubted God, but I couldn’t get past certain tenets of the Christian faith. My realization of historical discrepancies made it hard for me to find guidance in a Bible. While everyone else raised their hands to the sky and closed their eyes in praise, a voice in my head grew louder every week. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” it said. This wasn’t a simple drought of faith, this was something radically changing inside of me. I knew I couldn’t keep putting on a facade, and I knew that voice was right. “I don’t belong here.”
It didn’t really hit me at first. I tore off the bandage slowly, and it seemed like something in me was decaying. Wrought with more guilt and shame every week, I found myself in a very peculiar place. It’s that feeling of losing someone you care for with such an excruciatingly large part of your heart and there isn’t anything you can do about it. I was falling out of love because…well…because people change. I changed. Changed to the point where I would skip church every other week to skipping every week to making rare guest appearances a handful of times a semester. I walked out on The Walk, a formerly beloved outlet for spiritual nourishment. I knew this was something that I truly needed to confront, yet I put it off for so long. I was angry at myself, confused as to why the flame that used to burn so bright was growing so dim. I was terrified at the prospect that I was abandoning the guiding force for my life and soul.
Nonetheless, you can’t run from what you truly believe. I knew there was a God, but I knew Christ was no longer my lighthouse. Finally, the full weight of my decision hit me, and I dropped my religion. It felt scary and uncomfortable in many ways but at the same time….it was just so liberating. I knew that my decision was right. Not right in the sense that my new belief was factually correct—just right for me as a person.
Now, over half a year later I’m on the way to solidifying a newfound spiritual belief, and I think I’m on the right track. The one just seems like my cup of tea. I’m excited and awe-inspired when I delve into this new conception. I feel a trust and a passion, and suddenly everything seems to make perfect sense. Like a ethereal glass slipper, this one seems to be the perfect fit. I hear the coast, and I'm following its call. The real beauty is that it's just the beginning for me. The start of my journey; I'm taking my first steps towards those beckoning waves.
I may feel nostalgic, but I think that’s to be expected at times. In the end, I don’t think I lost anything, because, at their cores, my beliefs are one in the same with Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and all other peaceful beliefs. We all believe in peace and love and following a calling that’s bigger than ourselves. Our journeys may be different, but all roads lead to the same end. Your path will always lead to the sea.
I’ll end with a rather profound metaphor from one of the most eloquent books I’ve ever read.
“I sometimes like to think of God as a great symphony and the various spiritual paths as instruments in an orchestra. The gift that you have is like music waiting to be played. you need only to find the instrument that will best bring it out. You alone can never play all the instruments, and your music might not find voice in all instruments. All you can do is find the instrument that suits you best, play it as well as you can, and add your music to the great symphony of divine creation.”
-Kent Nerburn, from Letters To My Son
Amen.
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