In Silent Meditation

On a recent Sunday morning, I felt spiritually threatened. I don’t mean something as esoteric as being spiritually attacked on a metaphysical plane. No, this was more of an attack on my spirituality. I’m not sure the person who instigated that feeling had that intention. I hope not. Still, after the fact I find myself pondering the emotions evoked by the conversation. The setting had the potential for controversy, this I know. At least, I know that controversy may emerge over the coming weeks. You see, this was the orientation session for a study called “Living the Questions 2.0 – an Introduction to Progressive Christianity.” I did not, however, really expect controversy and feelings of inadequacy and threat to emerge during the orientation session.

 There were only four of us in the classroom – three of us consider ourselves to be “Progressive.” The fourth – a kind, caring and knowledgeable Christian – is probably someone who considers himself to be rather more traditional. And that’s fine. Wonderful, in fact, for the best class environment, in my opinion, is one in which we can all learn something new about our religion, one another, and ourselves. The goal of an orientation, however – at least, so I thought – is to meet one another, go over the guidelines and expectations of a course, and prepare for the class. This orientation did not go as expected.

 You should know that I was the facilitator for the orientation session. As we read through the guidelines provided by the creators of the study, we came upon the line that told us that the study was not meant for those who were adamant that the Bible is the “inerrant and infallible word of God.” In other words, those who are strict literalists might not be able to take the course, because it would be likely to challenge them too much; to anger them, for the study takes the stance that the Bible is not a literal document. Of course, since we were only in the orientation session, we have not gotten to the point where the presenters on the video discuss what they think the Bible actually is. However, from this point in the conversation, everything I attempted to explain was challenged. The individual who was challenging me, the study or Progressive Christianity – I’m not sure which, or if it was all three – made the comment that instead of this just being a study, it should be a group that takes action. For instance, going out during our social events and handing out “Books of John” to those in attendance. As a group, we agreed that if the study group were to evolve into a group that takes some kind of action initiated by our faith and our conviction, it would be a wonderful thing. I made the comment, however, that the first order of business was to do the study.

 That’s where things got rather “ugly,” at least to me. Suddenly, I was told that I was being close-minded. Solely, apparently, because I thought the purpose of having a Sunday School study was to have the study first, and what might come out of that study would be a benefit. One of the other individuals extrapolated that the other person was trying to make a point – that because I had made the comment that people often find the traditional church to be comprised of “close-minded” individuals, I was saying that as a Progressive I was more open-minded. The reality is that I am fully aware that by making such a distinction I am sometimes guilty of being close-minded. I am, after all, human. I have discussed this issue at length with others – I do find myself sometimes having trouble being non-judgmental when I feel I am being judged. I’m working on that. I’m praying about it constantly. And, of course, I suddenly felt I was being judged and found wanting, once again.

 Further discussion ensued around the subject of Communion. We all agreed that Communion was of absolute importance to Christians. The person who was challenging me brought out the verbiage we use in our church – that Communion is for “many.” Isn’t it, he asked, really just for the few, those who were true believers? I don’t want to get into the details of the discussion, I’m not sure I even remember them; I think we finally came to a consensus. However, even in this conversation, I felt a sense of personal attack. You see, when we did come to our agreement that Communion was of utmost importance, his comment to me was something to the effect that see, “you do stand for something.” As if I had said I don’t believe in anything in particular. That because I identify with Progressive Christianity, I am just floating through life with no purpose.

 I know that part of my problem is my discomfort with the traditional language of Christianity as it has come to be used by Bible-thumping evangelism. This is always my problem. I’m human, I have problems. I’m working on them, with God’s help. The reality is, of course, that I spent many years being spiritual outside of the Christian context. The words I choose may not evoke a Christian thought-pattern in those who are used to being only in the church. However, when I say “Spirit moves,” I mean “Holy Spirit.” I believe there is only one “Spirit” with a capital S. When I say, “God,” I mean the same God that is the only God who created the world. I believe there is only one God. One God, One Spirit, One Christ, Many Ways. That’s what I believe. Somehow, my belief in that seems to constitute some kind of heresy. Or something.

 I have been wrestling with this for almost three days now. What I believe; what I understand about God, the human relationship with God, the movement of Spirit and the person of Christ are unlikely to change – all I can change is the way I communicate that belief to others. I feel that if I use the language that has become so trite within the Christian church, seekers are often turned off. It is the language of judgment and dogma. I don’t think every organized Christian church or individual Christian is judgmental and dogmatic. What I am trying to say is that because many of them have been so, the non-churched, the non-spiritual and the non-Christian seeker has come to believe it to be so. It is a stereotype of the Christian, to be sure. It is a stereotype that needs to be challenged. I feel called to challenge that. If this one person in this one orientation class is an indication of what it means to challenge it, I’m not sure I’m up to it.

 And so, it comes to the crux of the matter. If I’m not up to it, how can I possibly be called to serve God as an ordained person? I have vacillated between thinking I’m called to be ordained and not; between thinking I’m called as Elder or Deacon;  between whether or not I’m called to be in the church at all. Here I am again. I am a fairly intelligent person who loves God and my fellow human being. I have been given gifts of writing, caring for others, administration and even the experiences that will allow me to help others who find themselves in situations similar to where I have been. And, yes, I am gifted with being quite open minded. Am I too open-minded? Some apparently think so. I don’t think God thinks so. I think God made me that way for a purpose. I just wish I could figure out that purpose.

 Right now, I feel lost, confused and rather alone. Thank God I have my children, my siblings and their families, and my friends. They should be sufficient, I suspect. These past few days, I am stopped in my tracks. What is it I’m seeking by pursuing my Master’s in Divinity? Why do I insist on starting up classes and study groups that are only attended by 2 to 6 individuals? Why do I stay in this local church, where people who think like me seem to be far outnumbered by those who do not? Why am I not satisfied going to work, making a decent living, saving for retirement (which I am not doing working where I am), writing poetry, reading a few books and having spirituality discussions over cups of delicious tea?

 Why am I not happy to just stop this never-ending quest and just settle into a life with someone who loves me just as I am? From there, maybe I could just write about my belief in One God, One Spirit, One Christ, Many Ways, and let someone with more fortitude and foundation do the work I keep trying to do, but cannot. Maybe, if I find someone to settle in with, I’ll discover that all I am called to do is just that. I sure wish God would get around to bringing them into my life.