Evolving Faith

When I had children of my own, I passed my religion to them. I took them to church and sent them to a Lutheran school where they could learn, as I had, how to be a good Christian.

When my daughters were in elementary school, I became the children’s ministry director of our church. This role afforded me the opportunity to explain the rules to other people’s children. I assured them our faith, unlike the others, was correct and that our mission, as keepers of the truth, was to guide others to this life of assurance.

About twelve years ago, a same-sex couple wanted to join our congregation and have their son baptized. The council held an emergency meeting and decided this would not be possible given their lifestyle choice. The couple was given literature about aligning themselves with our Christian values so they could participate in our rituals. Shortly thereafter, in the wake of the Ferguson protests, one of our members requested permission to organize a racial justice event. Again, the council held an emergency meeting, which resulted in the denial of her petition. It was determined that such a gathering could upset our parishioners.

I began to feel uneasy about the faith in which I had been so certain. I started to wonder if, in fixing our eyes on the rules, we had lost sight of Jesus. Perhaps we’d focused so intently on policing His people that we’d forgotten to love them.

For those of us who were conditioned in traditional fundamental spaces, it’s uncomfortable when our certitude is challenged. We don’t like our security to be threatened. We don’t like blurry boundaries.

The conundrum, however, is that Christianity is defined as a religion based on the teachings of Jesus, and Jesus made it His business to blur the boundaries. He welcomed. He invited. He included.

When I think about my early faith, I realize I underestimated God’s capacity. I thought inclusion was contingent, that only a select group had access. I had forgotten that Jesus prioritized people over logistics.

As my faith has evolved and expanded, I’ve come to hold most religious tenets lightly, at least the ones created by man. I no longer believe God needs us to patrol the perimeter of His kingdom. Maybe the most important rule is the one Jesus gave us. Love God and love your neighbors. And perhaps, loving God doesn’t mean upholding the standards of entry as much as it means opening the doors.

Recently, I asked a Christian leader I greatly respect how to discern whether something is of God. His reply was simple. “If it’s not love, it’s not God.”