Frozen Faith
When I cast the occasional look back over my old spiritual and religious haunts, I’m frankly astounded. For what I see is a frozen version of what was birthed in radicalism and unconformity. What began as a somewhat idealistic, yet deeply genuine search for God and all things divine appears to have morphed into a rigid belief system, one that doesn’t allow for honest questioning and experiential change. In my book, ‘Way Beyond The Blue’ I wrote a little parable to describe this settling process. In it the waters of Spirit were placed in religious and esoteric buckets and told to flow no more. God was taken in for care, like an ageing relative who could no longer be trusted to do their own thing.
In my early pilgrimage everything was taught and learned through the specs of scriptural texts. If a Biblical story couldn’t be found to back up our experience of God then I’m afraid it was immediately suspect. Revisiting the social media sites of my past religious contacts I see nothing has really changed. Sermons are still preached on David and Goliath, Paul’s letters to his Roman converts, and of course the scariest of all, ‘The Book of Revelation’. The menu hasn’t changed that much over the past 40 years, apart from a few trendy added extras to disguise the taste. The same trite, well-worn insights are wheeled out, Sunday by Sunday, to keep those in attendance committed to the cause, rather than exploring the boundless prairies of Divine Love.
Many of my old friends, after years of faithful service, have been promoted to the position of ‘elder’ or wise Christian guardian of all things church, allowing them to preach the odd sermon now and again when the pastor is away on vacation. What a settled and predictable life, one that resists Spirit in It’s dogged atempts at blowing things apart, at turning our beloeved belief systems upside-down. I guess, having been shaken to the core by the tragic storms of life, I can no longer hold to this sure and steadfast mindset, one that has maintained every jot and title of my friends’ adolescent faith.
It appears that my old spiritual nurseries still foster a semi-infantile view of all things God. Just turn up every Sunday morning, sing a few songs, give a few dollars, and listen to the same old sermons and all will be well. Of course, it doesn’t really work out like that as life buffets us for our good. Suffering, it would appear, is part of the deal, not a major part , though an unavoidable and highly significant one. The iconic Nazarene Himself could have quite easily slipped into the religious mindset of his day and been a good Torah believing, synagogue-attending Jewish boy. Yet He didn’t. For, something was stirring deeply in his psyche-soul, a spiritual energy that led him into the minefield of reformist and prophetical life. A path that eventually ended (at least within space-time) as a tortured, hanging victim of a second-rate Roman execution squad.
Of course many of my old friends suspect that I have fallen away from my early faith, my first love to use the evangelical vernacular. They may well be right, but I reckon that like Alice of Wonderland fame I’ve tumbled down a rabbit-hole more in touch with the Reality of which the Nazarene spoke. A ravenously loving God, one running wild outside the concept-based, formal paddocks of religious conservatism. Now, before any of my former comrades raise the old chestnut of one having ‘a root of bitterness’ lurking deep within, may I respectfully save them time and effort by stating that thankfully that particular trait melted away a long time ago. No, what presently lies with spiritual gut is rather a potent cocktail of sadness and bewilderment. A sadness that grieves the lack of risk taking present in my old faith communities, and a bewilderment at the level of toxic stoicism that has infiltrated the unquestioning and often subservient followers of Jesus.
The religious life is a funny old thing.
Writer Dylan Morrison 
I find that my religious upbringing was much similiar to yours, but I have morphed into someone who resents not being allowed to think for myself, or to be intimidated into thinking fearful thoughts, I am from Canada, and enjoy attending a church affiliated with “The United Church of Canada. We very rarely hear sermons such as those you have mentioned…”Sermons are still preached on David and Goliath, Paul’s letters to his Roman converts, and of course the scariest of all, ‘The Book of Revelations” I even find that the sermons are not biased “to keep those in attendance committed to the cause”, but instead rather do ” explore the boundless prairies of Divine Love”. I do feel so blessed, to be encouraged to look at myself in a positive way, while also looking at the unlimited choices I may have,to go out in a happy frame of mind each Sunday, vowing to improve myself and also trying to help make the world a better and more safe for all of us to live in. I would not continue to attend a church that didn’t encourage me to ‘think for myself’!
Thanks for popping by and posting your comments and insights Carolle. I guess there is a wide variety of faith group experience and you appear to have found one of the better varieties. For me the key question that tests the underlying nature of a group is whether it would be willing to cease ‘trading’ if the Divine were to communicate that particular course of action to them. To be honest I’ve never heard a faith group contemplate winding up, especially when the pews are full and the coffers full. 🙂 Dylan
I agree with every word. I was in a “fellowship” “under” Ernest Baxter . Today I am not defined by my church affiliation but rather my ordinariness. So great to be me and no more. To feel His pleasure every day.
Hi Carole. It’s a small world. The fellowship that I was in many moons ago was ‘under’ Derek Prince’, Ern Baxter’s fellow shepherding guru. As you say, great to have left such hierarchical fellowships behind. 🙂 Dylan
Yes, can identify with that feeling. Couldn’t describe it any better…:)
Thanks Florian. Yes, there are so many of us who have been, or presently are there. Only one way out in my experience and that is to detach from the regular brainwashing.
This speaks quite a bit to where I feel I am right now. So tired of church trappings and hearing much the same thing all the time, all the while being chastised (sometimes openly, sometimes behind my back or in not-so-hidden references) when I question something or bring up some experience that isn’t explicitly addressed in Scripture (although I do hear that every question we have is sufficiently dealt with in the Bible).
I had such a beautiful experience when sitting by the river in my hometown a few months ago. It was the first time in months, if not years, that I truly heard and felt God all around me. I crave more of that experience, yet part of me is fearful because the experience seemed “pagan” (also part of my background).
Hi Leta
Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this all-too familiar experience. In my own case the inner tensions and related pressure got to such a level that I had to move on for my sanity. I can totally understand your communion experience with the Divine sitting by the river. I reckon time spent in Nature centres us in the realm of spirit, the place where we can truly sense Presence. For me it’s neither religious nor pagan, just Reality. Those of us with a mystical inner wiring find regular religious exposure a bit like torture – a cramping of our natural style and sense of Being. Keep up your time in the wide open spaces of Divine Love. 🙂 Dylan
very touched by this post dylan – thank you
Glad it struck a wee chord with you Martin. Thanks for the encouragement!
🙂 Dylan
[…] The iconic Nazarene Himself could have quite easily slipped into the religious mindset of his day and been a good Torah believing, synagogue-attending Jewish boy. Yet He didn’t. For, something was stirring deeply in his psyche-soul, a spiritual energy that led him into the minefield of reformist and prophetical life. A path that eventually ended (at least within space-time) as a tortured, hanging victim of a second-rate Roman execution squad. – Dylan Morrison […]