I believe there is a force, a power in the universe that has to do with love. That power has something to do with us, it is present in us and around us and between us. Somehow, it is for us. It becomes tangible in our caring for others and in fleeting moments of perceived connection to something larger, grander and deeper than our day to day experience. Our attempts at community, contemplation and reflection can open us to a sense of its presence.
After I wrote those words last week, I went on to say about them, “that feels like solid ground.” Had I waited a week to post, I might have said they felt like an open field at the end of a dark woods, or a deep breath after a long dive. I am still reeling from the impact of those words. Of course, it wasn’t just the words, but the sharing of those words that has opened a new world to me. I am, as my friend said last week, out, and nothing will ever be the same. Thank God.
The words I found last week were new to me. I had, at times throughout my life, reflected on what I believed, by rehearsing what I might say to someone who asked about my belief. That reflection had always involved some sort of attempt to reconcile what I thought I could honestly claim as belief with what seemed to me to be the beliefs of the church I serve. Those two lists never matched and they never came together in a satisfying way. Sometimes I would end up feeling, deep down inside, though I don’t think I really understood it until this week, that I needed to find my way to the Church’s belief or disqualify myself as a priest. It had seemed so obvious, so natural, so easy to tell others they are welcome in the Church regardless of what they believe. I am still surprised at how right it felt to say that to them while I really didn’t believe it for myself. It felt last week as if this new core belief statement had just appeared suddenly out of nowhere. I now understand that I have been working on that statement all my life.
I am also beginning to see that those few short lines about what I really do believe have the power to provide a new context for some of those other ideas I had to let go of. Not only that, but this whole experience of becoming honest about belief has much to teach me about the faith that seemed so complicated.
I have a long list of “church” words in my notes for this blog, words about ideas that have caused me trouble and about which I plan to write. Among them, is the word, “salvation.” Salvation has been on my troubling words list for some time. When I’ve heard the church say “salvation” I have heard judgement, and the threat of hell, and Jesus paying a debt for us. Not believing in hell, salvation has always seemed a bit anachronistic. I’ve wondered if it isn’t time to be through with the whole notion of salvation. I did have a glimmer of hope for the concept years ago when Don McLean asked, in his song “American Pie,” if music could save my mortal soul and I was able to answer an enthusiastic “yes.” Otherwise, it just isn’t a topic I’ve felt any inclination to talk, much less preach about.
That was last week. Today, I think salvation might be the telling of old stories. It might be getting honest about wearying struggles, about claiming your own truth. Today, as I write these lines, I feel—having chosen my own truth, my own beliefs over some other list I thought someone else might want me to believe—as if I once was lost but now am found…..was blind but now I see. Salvation is, for me, this afternoon, a pretty powerful concept having to do with freedom and acceptance and honesty. I wonder what other words I might be able to salvage from my scrap heap in the wake of having come to solid ground.
I set out a couple of months ago to write for others who might be struggling with this whole belief thing. Now I know I am writing for myself as well. Who knows where this will go? I am grateful for the feedback many of you have given on these posts, and particularly for those who tell me they have lived with the sorts of questions that have shaped my journey and who, with me, keep working within the questions because there is something here we need. I’m thinking about painting this new faith statement around the edges of a mandala on this snowy afternoon. I’ll send you a picture when it’s done. John Baker
