Sometimes sharing my faith journey is uncomfortable to me, not because I’m embarrassed, but more because I tend to keep my deepest feelings close to the vest. Catholicism was the faith I was raised in, and while its study came easy, I didn’t always appreciate the explanations I got from the adults I was surrounded by (for example, I once had to crawl around the school on my hands and knees for messing up my first confession…but really how the hell was I supposed to know the lights went out in the confessional the minute you kneeled down?). So much of my schooling was fear based and negative, while the scripture I listened to in church, really wasn’t that way at all. I also didn’t always find the clergy very good representatives of those stories either…mostly because they didn’t seem all that happy, positive or peaceful. I remember expressing my dilemma in my childhood diary and came to this conclusion: what do I know, I’m only a kid. I’m not sure when I stopped giving adults so much deference for their instruction, but I knew there had to be another way to breath faith into my daily life.

When that did happen, and I made my own personal commitment to Christ, I felt sick to my stomach and a bit depressed. While I knew I was never an easy kid, I did take things like commitments very seriously. I knew I would be in this for the long haul, and that, if it were to mean anything at all, it would mean a deep material change to my life and how I walked in it. That’s personally terrifying for someone who felt ineffectual, lacking in social cues and graces, and didn’t particularly share an affinity for religious people. (I still feel a great deal of guilt for believing at the time, that they were too saccharine and a bit overbearing and touchy). When I found groups of faith filled people who were more like me, I was more celebratory about it, but didn’t always see how we were any different from any other young person. I also learned real quickly, as in any group, there are assholes everywhere.

My journey became much more internal, especially as I embraced theology as my major as an undergrad. The struggle was always taking all that I learned and somehow superimposing it on how I walked in the world. I also don’t naturally carry the disposition that Jesus walked in the world with, so I struggled, but still believed that it was my path to continue into the future, wherever it took me. The integrity of that commitment meant that any endeavor I made had to be a reflection of what I believed. I worked in Ministry in some shape or form for decades, and it was clinging to my integrity that brought me to the point in my life where I decided that I no longer comfortably believed that the whole is greater that the summary of its parts. This is not a denigration of churches out there who supply breath and life to faith for a lot of people. There are wonderful places out there. But if I’m honest, and that is the core of integrity, there are too many who hide under the banner of faith and never feel overly compelled to live and breathe the commandments of the Gospel. Again, perhaps I am off base, but much of the judgmental, fear and anger based vitriol I’ve experienced from religion reminds me more of the clergy of my youth than a mechanism to bring forth the Kingdom of God. Religion has become more of a mechanism for justifying intolerance and judgement than mercy and love.

I miss it sometimes, but I haven’t forgotten that what I’ve learned and understand about faith is contained in some very simple axioms…of which this is primary: to treat even the lowest as if they were Christ, and the understanding that others will know who his disciples are by how they love one another. That kind of living doesn’t depend on a structure…but the simple integrity of living according to the choice I made.