My Spiritual Journey: A new day of discovery

I was barely a teenager and decided to change churches. It was next door to the one my parents went to. They had something called a youth group which was a new idea in Appalachia in the 70s. We were about 10 years behind the rest of the world, so I've always thought I went through the 60s, just in a different decade.

I grew my hair long and wore bell bottom jeans with peace signs on my t-shirt. I was a rebel non-conformist who looked just like all the other rebel non-conformists.

The church that had this youth group would be liberal by today's standards, and probably was then too, but it was not a big deal at that time.

Everyone I knew went to church. It was a social thing but no one really cared where you went. There were differences in each but as long as you picked one, you were good in polite society.

This pastor and his wife – especially his wife – introduced me to a whole new world in addition to the idea of a youth group. I did not realize how radical this was at the time, but the church was much different in America then, and this one was different even from the other ones at the time. The focus of some churches was just avoiding sin. In some churches, however, of churches, developing your relationship with God was the focus. I quickly realized this difference and it didn't take me long to realize who I wanted to be around.

This was the only church in our area that had a youth group, and it was pretty popular.

There was the standard church service on Sunday mornings, but there was so much more. We had a weekly meeting at their house where we played games, ate a lot, and generally had a good time. We went on outings. To ball games even, and to hear religious and motivational speakers. There were trips to concerts, festivals, and even some camping trips.

As much as I liked that, I liked going to their house even better.

A room full of books in their house was something like I had never seen, and we were all welcome to borrow any book we wanted. It was like the library at school, only smaller and much more interesting.

There wasn't much emphasis on what was wrong, or “sin.” There was a lot more emphasis on doing good. We were encouraged to read, to study, to learn to develop our own faith. The idea was to develop a relationship with God, and they figured rules would take care of themselves.

It did not escape my notice that we very rarely talked about things like drinking or smoking, yet there was less of it with them than there was in churches that condemned that behavior. The idea that religion was about a relationship – and not about rules – was radical even in that time. They would speak to you about it if you were doing something wrong, but that was not the emphasis at all.

I was smoking by then, and most of my friends were too. They did talk to me about the dangers of smoking, but it didn't affect our relationship.

We were also welcome to drop by their house anytime we wanted, either as a group or individually. I stopped by a lot to visit their library. They also had a very cute daughter who was my age, and that didn't hurt either.

I read authors like C.S. Lewis and JRR Tolkien. I discovered the Lord of the Rings in their library. There were also biblical commentaries, dictionaries and so forth. Fascinating material. I was devouring their books, their food, and casting devouring look at their daughter as well. Life was good.

I learned about different denominations, different theologies, and interpretations. I enjoyed talking with the pastor about these things. The biggest thing he taught me was that we did not have to agree on various issues. He would give me an article to read, and we would talk about it. It was ok if I thought differently than he did, which was very radical to me.

I learned to question beliefs and to look for answers. Also, I learned to not ever be satisfied with an answer. There was always something new to discover and learn. It was even ok to change your mind on issues. Knowing what you believe and why is even more important than being right.

I also enjoyed the pastor's wife. She was less theological and more emotional. She encouraged us to talk about our feelings. She also encouraged my writing. She encouraged music too. Talking with her was great. I don't think I had ever talked to anyone about my feelings before. It was new territory, but I could tell her about anything without fear of judgment.

They also introduced me to Christian rock and roll, which was in its infancy. I first heard Larry Norman there, as well as Phil Keaggy. There was a girl singer named Evie they liked a lot but I was more impressed by Norman. They also liked the Beatles and Elvis.

The line dividing the religious and the secular was erased.  

My Spiritual Journey: Waterfalls and the mountain of God

This is similar to what the falls looked like. Free photo from pixels.com

A small opening in the bushes beside the road was what I always looked for. Some other wide spots along that gravel covered road looked the same, and you could easily head off the road from the wrong spot, but that one opening was enough to cue the initiated.

The trail was not marked. A waterfall was hidden back in those hills. But it was pretty much a secret, known only to locals and many locals didn't know exactly where it was. It was also a pretty hard hike, or climb might be a better word.

Because it was sort of a secret, it was fairly easy to go there at any time and not run into anyone. I lied more than once, telling people I didn't know how to get there.

It was maybe half of a mile from the gravel road that wound for miles through and around the mountain. That gravel road turned off a paved highway about 10 miles from the small community where I lived.

This was a special place, and there were a few others in those hills. Places where I could go and feel like I was one with the earth, one with the universe, and while I was there at least life was good.

There was the opening of the trail you could see, and it seemed to me like a doorway to an enchanted land. On the trail, there would be footprints, both human and animal. I liked looking for animal tracks and trying to guess what they were.

From the opening in the laurel bushes, there was a small path, a small indention in the dirt that went for about a hundred yards. The path faded away from there and was completely gone by the time you reached the first creek. That was easy to cross, and the second one was a little harder. You had to jump across from one rock to another.

After the second creek, it got interesting. If you kept going you could come to a place above the falls, and there were very high and steep rocks there. The view was not very good and it was dangerous. Not many people went there.

If you took your time and watched your step it was pretty safe. Some places were treacherous. Steep banks, boulders covered with moss making them slick. Going there in the snow was a real adventure and probably dangerous. I never heard of anyone getting seriously hurt, but a fall there could have been fatal because it would have been hours before help could arrive if it arrived at all.

No improvements were ever made to the falls or the small path. It was kind of an unspoken thing that this was an unspoiled area and locals wanted to keep it that way. Even to redneck hillbillies in Appalachia, this was something special that needed protecting.

Summers on Sunday afternoon there might be some tourists or a family wandering around, but other than that, not many people went the falls. When I went I hoped to not run into anyone, and usually, I didn't.

After the second creek, after just a few steps, you could hear the waterfall and from there you just went towards the sound. This was easier said than done and was more climbing than hiking. You had to down a very steep area from an area at the same level as the falls, to the bottom, which was about 100 feet. It was not straight down, but it was close. You had to hold on to tree branches, and at times just slide down to the next rock.

After some climbing down, the trail reappeared and again there was the sound of rushing water.

Black dirt and roots sticking up out of the ground. A thick growth of Laurels blocked the view, but they looked nice against the rest of the forest. In Spring when in bloom, it could be breathtaking.

Just one more steep hill to go up, and then around the edge to the other side.

From this angle, you would come out facing the falls, at the bottom but on the other side of the pool, the falls had created.

There was usually one column of water about two feet wide, and it dropped about 100 feet or maybe even more. About halfway down the water hit some other rocks and by the time it reached the pool, it was much wider.

The water had created a nice pool that some people were brave enough to swim in. The water was very cold even on the hottest day. The water was clear and pure. Occasionally you could see a small fish or even a rare mountain trout.

The rocks made it possible to walk around the edges, but beyond the pool, there was a very steep drop. The flowing water made the rocks slick. One bad step there and you would be falling down on rocks for a few hundred feet. No one ever did as far as I know, but they probably would have died if they had. Some people would climb the cliff on the sides of the fall. That was pretty scary, but later on, someone did install chains that made it easier.

This was really a series of falls, but it was the biggest and main one I went to see. Sometimes I would go up or down and see smaller falls. But the pool from the biggest fall was the main attraction.

Some people went there to do daredevil stunts like climb up the edges of the falls, or to dive from the high rocks into the freezing water. I don't know how deep that pool was, but people dived in from 30 feet or so and never had a problem. It was about 30 feet across and about the same from where the falls hit the rocks to where the water came out of the pool and continued down the mountain. There was about a four-foot wide area behind the falls that was fun to go to and sit. It was hard to get to and you had to swim a few feet in the very gold water, but it was worth it.

I went there for the solitude. I'd go for the quiet, which is ironic because often the sound of the pounding and rushing water made it hard to hear anything else.

But it was there my spirit would communicate with God. It was there I felt the peace that passes understanding. Often I'd just sit. And leave after an hour or so with my spirit and mind filled with good things.

One time I wrote a poem about the climb to the falls and back. I showed it to my pastor who liked it so much he put it in the church bulletin. I guess that was the first time I ever had anything published. It was the first time more than one person read something I had written. Several people commented and it felt very good.

That was one thing that led me to become a writer.

My spiritual journey: Separation of God and Church

From almost the beginning I have separated church from God.  They never were the same to me.  Photo from free pictures by Pixbay.com

I was a restless kid watching Billy Graham on a black and white television. His North Carolina accent appealed to me, the way certain words sounded was different even as someone living in Tennessee. There was authority in his voice, but a gentleness at the same time.

There was a feeling that burned in my body, a desire or yearning. He had something that I wanted, and he was telling me how to get it. I guess it was his charisma, but I always felt like he was talking to me specifically.

I knew about God but didn't know what that really meant or what to do with that knowledge.

The Gospel message is very simple, but at the same time, it is very radical.

God offers to pay the price for our sins so that we can be forgiven and have a relationship with him. Period. End of sentence, end of everything. That is all there is to the basic gospel message.

That was the message of Billy Graham and it resonated with me. It just felt good listening to him. One of my few early role models there on the black and white TV.

He said if we would say a certain prayer, we would have that forgiveness. Great, I thought. I did that a lot of times, and it would feel good, but it seemed to wear off after awhile. I looked forward to watching him because I would get to say that prayer and feel good for a little while.

The same thing happened in the church. That was not as inspiring but it still had the same effect. Only at church, there was the fearful thing of having to walk up to the pastor in front of everyone and pray with him. The pastor would rant and rave, and try to get you to come up front. There was even this thing of “renewing” the salvation or recommitting.

Now go tell others, they said. But I was still in the dark and confused. Tell others what?

The more I tried to believe the more questions I had. There was a desperation that developed over time. Frustration grew. I kept “getting saved” over and over again. I did believe in God, I did want to trust Jesus as my savior. Somehow that was not enough. It wasn't enough for them and it wasn't enough for me either. Still, it seemed no one could tell me what it was I was missing.

The only information I could get from people was that I should not sin. There were bad things you could do that would make God mad and you would go to hell. What was a sin? Smoking, drinking, sex were the biggies. Just about every adult I knew was doing all three of those things and most of them were in church with me.

The deacons would stand out front of the church and have one last cigarette before they came inside for the service. The irony of that always hit me. I had also witnessed one or two of them doing even more than that which most would have said was sin. Yet, there they were, the pillars I was supposed to look up to as Christians.

A lot of people dump the church and religion at this point. I really wanted to, but there was something, an inner voice that kept me coming back. I couldn't forget the way Billy Graham talked on the TV. That wasn't what I got at church. I believed the black and white TV more than I believed what I heard at church.

Somehow I got my hands on a Living Bible. Controversial in those times, and that it was controversial appealed to my youthful rebellious nature. It wasn't that controversial though. About the only comment I ever got was when older people would say the King James was better. So it wasn't much of a radical move, but it was something and encouraged me to want to read it.

When I did read it, it was liking watching color TV, or a big-screen movie in living color as opposed to the black and white TV that church and religion had become. There was a one-dimensional – black and white – thing about Christianity as it was presented to me. The Living Bible was so much more vivid.

It brought back the memories of the rainbow river I had seen before I even knew words to think of.

While religion told me to get saved over and over again, and that if I sinned God would get mad at me and I might not be saved anymore, the Living Bible had so much more to say.

The stories were fascinating. The words of Jesus were amazing. He talked about loving people. He talked about being authentic, or real. He said don't do your good things for others to see or to not be concerned about getting praise or condemnation from others.

He also talked about hypocrisy. Appearing good on the surface but doing bad things in private. I thought of the deacons smoking in the churchyard, and even what else I had seen some of them do. There was no reason to look up to them.

It was enough to make me reject church and religion, but I had this secret knowledge from the bible. Did people in the church not know about this? There was just so much more to see than the very basic thing of salvation and avoiding sin. There was also a lot about faking religion and doing bad things behind closed doors.

Soon I had a real separation between religion and God. They really were different things.

I kept going to church but I don't know why. The God I believed in was not the mean hypocrites that they were. The dichotomy would only grow from there.

Working on Christmas Day

There's beauty in the harshness of a cold winter at christmas

Christmas Day, cold and alone at work. That sounds much worse than it is. The emptiness of blank concrete and steel kept cold with a freezing wind chill shows the contrast of the merriment of the season. I wouldn't know one without the other.

The emptiness seems endless at times, but i'm not complaining. The one thing I do want is to be left alone. To just have my thoughts and be at peace. So being cold and alone at work on Christmas is really a good Christmas present. Can't reasonably hope for more than that.

The clouds on the political front are troubling I suppose. Like the clouds today could give us snow. Dark and gloomy. Feels like it could snow but the weatherman isnt sending any.

Old timers used to say my generation was the end of civilization, and now we say the same. Those same clouds that gave us snow years ago, don't give us anything today.

Are we at the end or is it just another empty cloudy day. Only time will tell. I can say it seems more real now, but I guess that's what my grandparents said 50 years ago.

It is easy to get caught up in the finger wagging, tongue lashing, emotional baggage of moaning and groaning about the state of the world. Its just an emotional game to get us upset and to ignore a greater travesty.

Of course no one wants to work on Christmas, but the lot fell to me and so it goes. I didn't care too much this year. Somehow I just never got into the Christmas spirit. I didn't go to any music or performances of any kind, and to maybe only one lights display. But the holiday spirit – the reason for the season – lives in my heart and mind.

Today more than others I see how the attitude affects reality, or how the emotional state confirms or denies the reality that exists. Its easy to write with passion when I feel the blues. Somehow its harder when life is good.

Remembering ghosts of Christmas past, the story never gets old. Missing the snow that used to cover the pine trees at home, but home isnt there anymore. The snow isn't either, so times have changed.

It is still cold though, never did even get up to freezing today, so it's probably still in the 20s.

A slight breeze made it worse at times, tried to keep my back to the north.

The end of the day comes as the sun sinks in the west. Another Christmas Day is gone. Gathering my things and heading home. Another day in paradise lost. The dark clouds are threatening. I smile. Thanks, but not today my old friend. Bring your darkness back another time.

Finding God in new ways

Click the above graphic to go to where you
can buy this book, used and cheap.

Going to church is boring.
It's a provocative statement.  It's not because there's anything wrong with the church. I could try another one. I have done that before and not had much luck. Something might be a little bit better somewhere else, but that would not fix the problem.
For years the idea of going to church has been the hallmark of what being a Christian is about. We go for an hour - maybe two hours if you go to Sunday School too - and its the same thing every week. Maybe the names of the songs are different, and maybe there's a different series or topic now and then in the sermon, but essentially it never changes.
There was a time when I liked church and even looked forward to it. Now its more with a sense of dread that I wake up on Sunday morning. The church hasn't changed. I've no complaints. I think it is my that has changed.
The problem is not the church, and for a long time, I thought the problem was me. Now I am seeing that neither the church nor myself are to blame.
There is a great book, called Sacred Pathways, Gary Thomas, that gets at this problem.
It sounds kind of new age, but it isn't.  He talks about different pathways in the sense of how we relate to God. It is not about God but it is about how we relate, or how we get there.
Modern day Christianity presents a one-size-fits-all package, and the reality is we are all very different and one size does not fit all.  The modern-day package includes going to church, maybe Sunday School too, maybe being part of a small group and having fellowship with other believers.
Those things are ok, but I think I have changed some, to the point that these things no longer connect me to the higher power.
In his book, Gary Thomas talks about this very problem.
We all have different personalities. We all relate to things differently.
Thomas lists a few possibilities, and there may be more.
Some people are moved by music, some by study, some by acts of service. The key is to find the one that works for you or even the combination that works best for you.
A friend used to invite me to conferences. I'm sure the speakers were good, and the food probably was too, but I always declined. To me, there could be nothing more awful or boring than sitting around listening to speakers all day and then having to discuss those speakers.  I do this a couple hours a week and that's too much already, so a full day would be beyond what I could stand.
However, a walk in the woods, or even listening to some music, would do a lot of good for my spirit and my connection to God. Also thinking about some deep theological question would point me in a good direction.
Philippians  2:12 says, "continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling."
What this means is, we should continue to work out the details of our relationship with God. "Fear and trembling" is a phrase used in the bible to mean with seriousness.  The scripture's don't say to go church necessarily. But I think the implication of this verse is to find out what works for you. That may not be what works for other people. But this is not about changing God or the message of the gospel. Rather, it is about changing how we relate to God.
I found the book by Gary Thomas to be very helpful. He lists eight pathways, and he says you may find a combination of more than one would work best for you. There may be even other ways. There is a "test" in the book to find where you fit among the eight pathways, and that might be a good thing. But remember this is not gospel.
Thomas also recommends trying out new things, and to perhaps develop some new ways to appreciate God.

The eight pathways he lists are:

• Naturalist: Seeing God in nature, experiencing God in the natural world.
• Sensate: Using all of the senses - touch, taste, sight, smell etc.
• Traditionalists: These would be churchgoers who love the church. Rituals and such.
• Ascetics: Personal disciplines like fasting or other harsh treatment of the body
• Activists: Getting involved in your community, seeking justice for others
• Caregivers: Taking care of people or acts of service
• Enthusiasts: As the name implies, excitement and enthusiasm rule.
• Intellectuals: Studying, these are the theologians. Seeking new realities and truth.
• Contemplative: This can also be seen as celebrating, but it is meditation, focusing on who God is. A contemplative is more concerned with God than religion.

Each of these has its place, but the important thing is to find one that fits you and your spiritual temperament. But remember the pathway is yours, and not the one for anyone else. A pitfall in Christianity is that sometimes we find our path and expect others to take the same one.

For me its a heavy dose of naturalist and intellectual, with a touch of contemplative. 

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Reactions to the gospel, doubt versus faith at Christmas

As Christmas approaches, we celebrate the coming of Christ into the world. As Christians, we have also had Christ “born” in our hearts when we received a relationship with Him. Even today, we may have many “receptions” of Christ.
In Luke Chapter 1, we see how two people reacted differently to the arrival of Jesus.
The Angel Gabriel was sent to a priest named Zechariah, and to a peasant girl named Mary, and he announced the coming of Jesus to both of them.
Zechariah was a priest, and according to the text a righteous man. He was a faithful follower of God, and as a Priest had a certain rank. If anyone would be expected to have faith, it would be Zechariah.
He was chosen to burn incense before the altar of God, which was done yearly. This was a very high honor as the priest was standing in front of the altar in the presence of God. The priest would actually enter the Holy of Holies, which was done only at this time each year.
This was how it had been done since the time of Moses as the priest made atonement for the sins of the nation of Israel.
According to Jewish legend, when priests went to the altar for this duty, a rope was tied around their leg just in case they were struck dead by the Spirit. If any sin was found in them, this could likely happen.
The text tells us he was a righteous man and had been praying fervently for years, asking God to give him and his wife a son.
Now, in his old age, he sees an angel, Gabriel, who is bringing him the news that he will indeed have a son. That son is to be John the Baptist.
But even so, Zechariah doubts. He asks the angel how he can know for sure. In essence, he was asking for a sign that the angel’s words were true. The Jewish leaders all had this problem … a basic lack of faith in God. When Jesus ministered on the earth, the Jewish leadership constantly hounded Him for a sign.
Gabriel was no common angel. He is the one that stands before God, implying a special relationship. He had been sent to both of them with a specific message.
It is interesting to note that Zechariah was standing before God at the moment. By offering the incense, he was doing on an earthly level what Gabriel was doing on a heavenly level.
Even so, he asked for a sign as though he really did not believe.
Zechariah would still receive the promise even though he had not believed, but he would not be able to speak until the child was born.
Later in the chapter, we see a much different scenario as Gabriel appears to Mary, to tell her that she will bear the Christ child.
Mary was probably a basic peasant girl without much education. Many people probably would not have considered her a spiritual giant. And as you might expect, she was terrified at seeing an angel.
Here response is much different than Zechariah’s response though. After just a little questioning, she believes the angel.
“I am the Lord’s Servant. May it be as you have said,” she told him.
Her faith was simple but effective.
While Zechariah had all the education and connections, he failed in the crunch, to have simple faith.
If we compare the two people, we can see that perhaps religious position does not necessarily translate to being truly close to God.

As we celebrate Jesus coming into the world, let us ponder how we will receive Him on a daily basis in our lives.

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The Christmas story through the eyes of Easter

In the beginning was the word, and the word was God. That is a paraphrase of John 1:1, which the writer uses to introduce the Christmas story.  God became flesh and lived on the earth. This was a  radical thought in those days, and it is now.  The synoptic gospels - or the other three - tell a more traditional story of the birth of Christ. John jumps right to the spiritual meaning.

This is perhaps a unique thing in Christianity, that God would actually come to earth and live as a human being. That is radical enough, but he also came to die to pay the penalty for our sins.

The meaning of Jesus was this - "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind."

In the very beginning, in the Adam and Eve story, sin entered the world. Human beings rebelled. Some call this original sin. We are not guilty of original sin, that is not what makes us guilty. It is because we do the same things they did. Original sin just means where it originated. 

But God loved his creation.

There's some deep mystery here, but in some way, God wanted to have a relationship with his creation. He set about pursuing us. The scripture says we love God because he first loved us. It also says, while we were dead in our sins, he made us alive together with Christs.

Constantly people have tried to find a way to get to god, to have a relationship that way. This is the basis of religion - seeking God.

There were lots of efforts to make us "good," or to make us acceptable to God.

The radical idea of God was to come to earth in human form.  Some say he came to show us how to live, but I've never really thought that was true. 

Instead, I think the reason God came to earth as a human was to be the ultimate sacrifice. The Reason Jesus was born was Easter.
Jesus had to be both God and Man, and doing this in some miraculous way, makes this happen. Jesus gets his human origin from Mary and his heavenly origin from God himself.

The story in the synoptic gospels explains how this came about. The virgin birth takes on new meaning when we think of God arriving in human form. Some people try to explain this away, and even point out that in the ancient prophecies, the word "virgin" can be translated "young woman." Granted, but if that were the case, why would there be a prophecy about a young woman having a baby. That happens a lot all around the world every day, so it doesn't make much sense as a prophecy if just a young woman is all that is in mind.

Rather the virgin birth matters more on the theological level than even the physical. In terms of the physical world, it was a miracle. 

Theologically it is how we get the idea that Jesus was both fully God and fully man at the same time. In order for the sacrifice to do what was intended, it was essential that Jesus be both God and man. For that to happen, he had to be born of a virgin.

The virgin birth becomes a key part of Christian theology.

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My spiritual jouney: Learning the religions

From college days an onward for a while, I sought new ideas. Learning new things was actually a lot of fun, and even interesting in most cases. I found there were a lot of interpretations and variations on religion in my area, even though this was southern Appalachia where it is pretty much all Christian.
I studied some theology in college and found it fascinating. There was also the general study of religion itself, which was also interesting. I Checked out a lot of groups over a few years, staying with most a few months.

Each group thought it was the best of course, and they wanted you to join up with them. That wasn't really enough though, in most cases they wanted you to also help them criticize the other groups.
I saw that a lot, but it wasn't always the case. And I had my own legalistic moments I'm sure.
There were some groups I liked.

The Presbyterians and their systematic theology appealed to me in a great way. Theology should make sense, they said, and that sounded great. I had always wanted for it to make sense and be at least for the most part reasonable and logical.  So we interpreted the Bible in that light, and we studied theology. It was good, but it was academic in many respects. That was partly because it was at university, but it was also partly because of the people involved. I was as guilty as any of them of just focusing on the mental aspects, and even denigrating the emotional aspects.

Maybe God was telling me something by then exposing me to the charismatics. They believed you could "name and claim" anything you wanted because you were a child of God. If you had enough faith you could move mountains. It didn't help much that the person telling me all this had a cold the next day and could not just make it go away.  But I did like their spirit and their music.  I liked the way they seemed sold out to what they believed in. There were some good things here, and they had the spirit. There was a lot I liked about them, but the glaring problem was that "name it and claim it" just didn't work. It also was not in the bible as far as I could tell.

Again a great divide was presenting itself.
Should I go with the systematic theology that appealed to my brain, or with the name it and claim it crowd that appealed to my emotions.  What I really wanted was a church that had both. A place that could engage the mind and heart as one. I found a few places that claimed to be that, but eventually, they would lean far to one side.
Of course, there were other groups. There were the fire and brimstone, hellfire preachers, but they didn't grab my imagination at all. There was the middle of the road groups like the Baptists or Methodists, or even the non-denominational groups, and they seemed ok. They just didn't inspire me the way the Presbyterians or charismatics did.

As time went on I started noticing a strange thing inside myself. Whenever I would meet a new group there were be a sort of "inner witness" or inner voice that either said yes or no. It seemed to tell me to listen to this person but not that person. Very often I would find out the voice was correct and that the one it warned me about was not real or true.
I didn't have words for this at the time, and could barely even consciously notice it, but at the same time, I knew it was there. I didn't know what to make of it and didn't understand it enough to even talk about it.