Seems Like God…

This post originally appeared in a discussion started on Wondercafe called The Point of My Religion. It was written by Linda, a good friend whom I’ve only ever once met face-to-face. I thought that it was a wonderful reflection on the difference between “religion” and faith. If it speaks to you as it did to me, I hope you’ll take a moment to add a comment or pass it on to others.  -David

Long ago I lost religion – and I think I’m losing it again – but I have never lost the presence of God. I find God in the wonder of the moment. It can be any moment; because of where I live the moments are usually natural but I can experience God in people too. It can be that slow-coming smile from a vulnerable person, a child or the ill, when they realize they are with someone they can trust. It can be that soft spoken word of encouragement said for no other reason than love.

 Those moments, and they may be fleeting but they are daily, give me the faith to carry on. At some point in a day I will feel that presence and am lifted by it. It is personal and universal. It is in the moment but infinite.

 Religion is where things get more complicated and convoluted. Where even a name may not be what one thinks it is. It becomes a mirage and each time one gets closer to “finding it”, it vanishes in the harsh light of reality.

 I embrace Christian faith because it is both my tradition and heritage. I unknowingly know the meaning of the imagery and symbolism expressed because it has been passed down through the generations. I embrace it because I believe in Christ’s message – at least the message that through tradition and heritage as been passed down to me.

 That message sent via my parents and grandparents, Roman Catholic and Protestant, has always been consistent. A Christian is to care for all that God has created. In my case the *all* was stressed. It was not just human but animals, plants and the very soil we sprung from and will return to.

That care was to manifest itself through compassion not judgment. The message was to act not speak. We were not sent to change the world or others, just make it better or easier for those we encountered; and if we could not leave this mortal coil a better place at least not leave a mess for the next generation.

My parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, were/are living embodiments of this message. They indeed practiced what they preached. Long before it was fashionable, they embraced the message of Christ that equality was not just some lofty ideal but a practical way of life. They believed that justice was to be measured with compassion and understanding, not vengeance and privilege.

I learned this message through osmosis – just as I believe my relatives did before me. It has become ingrained in my very DNA. My religion is not a label but the very what of who I am.

And I struggle because of it. I lose my religion when I walk through the doors of a Church and do not see the message being lived as I believe it to be. I lose it when I see people who call themselves Christians with a capital C act in ways, as Gandhi would say, so unlike our Christ.

 So, while I can embrace the intellectual exercise of meditating on the infiniteness of God, smile at the finer debating points of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin or whether the streets of heaven are paved in gold or platinum, I can not disentangle myself from the fundamental belief that Christ demands more, that God wants more, and that more is that we live our lives with the same love that created the planet and her inhabitants.

 So I can lose my religion but I can not lose what has become me.

 Linda

R.E.M, Losing My Religion