I miss having a simple faith. I long for the connection of group worship, the joy of dancing before the Lord, the weight of a word, and the communion of prayer. At one time in my life these were all places of connection–connection with friends and family and something bigger than myself. So much has changed in my spiritual walk; Faith is not simple nor easy to hold.
When I was little, I believed in the tooth fairy and Santa Claus. It was easy. As far as I can remember, discovering these characters were not real did not jade me too badly. Yet, as a young mother, (in part because of my faith) I decided not to engage in the fantasies with my children. Hidden teeth beneath the pillow still resulted in gifts of money. Stockings were still filled with goodies to be found on Christmas morning and we intentionally learned about lots of different Santa traditions as celebrations of goodness and generosity. I simply did not want a lie from me to be the first lie my children needed to navigate.
As a child, I watched my very conservative father walk out his faith and convictions with a quiet resolve. He was not just a provider for his family but also a father figure to some of my friends who did not have that stability in their lives. His commitment to our “church family” was built on his deep respect for the leader of our congregation. And, through his example (my father was not a preacher except by deed), I grew to understand the value of personal integrity, family connection, and standing by one’s convictions.
Truth. Honesty. Integrity. Generosity. Stewardship. Loyalty. And faithfulness. These principles were foundational to who I wanted to be because they were lived out in front of me. They were what I hoped to pass on to my own children, as the foundation for the connections I hold most dear. Being true to these ideals, in the end, is why I left building based Christianity, despite missing intensely the sense of belonging it once provided.
More than a decade has passed since I faithfully participated in any kind of Church community. Today re-entry to that particular community feels impossible, even though my longing for the connection I once felt has not dissipated. No doubt the residue of unresolved trauma–their rejection of women in leadership, their villainizing of LGBTQ believers–and the fear of once again being disappointed, contribute to my feelings of distrust. Clearly, our current political environment, which has so thoroughly co-opted the “faith” of many self-identified Christians, has not alleviated my misgivings.
As I mentioned in my last post, we Dems need to do some soul searching. Yet, those of us who profess a faith in Christ may want to check that mirror as well. Self righteous fervor is not a good look for anyone but for those in the Church, those who are supposed to be know by their love as opposed to their rejection of the poor, the down trodden, the other, it is especially detracting.
This week as I read various memorials and watched President Carter’s funeral service at the National Cathedral, I have been struck by how every person who spoke about the former president mentioned his faith. His witness to the folks who knew him best–friends, family, and even his political foes–was as a man who walked humbly, honestly, and consistently before the Lord. Before, during, and after his moment in the spot light, James Earl Carter fixed his thoughts on “whatever was honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellence, and praise worthy.” To paraphrase his grandson, Jason Carter, “he chose to lift up others with love and respect.” As a result, homes were built, diseases were eradicated, peace was brokered, and a lasting, living good was accomplished.
My father, and the former president would have found themselves on opposite sides of the political aisle, and yet…. The principles which guided their individual lives, the respect with which they regarded the other, and their deep belief in service would have set them on common ground. For me, they represent the promise of America–a promise we have never completely kept and that has been seriously tarnished in the last dozen years. As a nation, we need to find our way back to our promise, or perhaps it is actually that we need to make our way forward. We need more than the false security of numbers to sustain us. Our enduring accomplishments will be few if they are not built with a sense of communion–the core of which must be a commitment to mutual respect, authentic compassion toward others, and an active practice of generosity.
Love overcomes fear. It doesn’t eliminate it. Fear is actually a healthy warning sign, a call to greater awareness. Love pushes through. And a faith anchored in love gives us strength. My faith will never again be easy. But pairing it with love does make it simple. I will undoubtedly continue to miss some of the expressions my faith once enjoyed, but the communion it desires is available so long as I push through.