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.