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On a sunny morning in June, 2003, two days after my 37th birthday, I had an unsolicited, unexpected and unbelievable encounter with God. Put more simply, without asking, praying or seeking, I woke up one morning a churchgoing agnostic (following years of rabid atheism) and put my head to the pillow that night a newly minted, highly unlikely Christian. I wish I could say my radical conversion happened gently…all harps and angels and light…but that was not my experience. On the contrary, I was nauseous, had trouble catching my breath and felt like there was a 500 lb weight on my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. But here’s the kicker. A lifelong skeptic who was, at times, militantly anti-Christian, I suddenly believed without hesitation that the Christian story that I had frequently railed against was true. I couldn’t have told you what that story was, but I knew without the luxury of details that it was all true. Now this might make some sense if I needed a spiritual experience. Say if I was fighting a serious illness or was down on my luck financially-or maybe if I were struggling with a painful loss or trying to navigate a tough personal challenge. But I didn’t need a spiritual experience. As far as I was concerned, my life was perfect. I was a successful PR executive making a healthy six-figure salary, married to my best friend who also made a six-figure salary. We had three healthy, happy kids and lived in our dream home about an hour northwest of New York City. I was seven years sober and had faced down most of my major issues/resentments in a program of recovery. Life was pretty good. Yet, there I was-sick, crying and convinced that something beyond my comprehension had happened to me. No one was more surprised than my husband Martin, who was there with me when it happened. He had been a Christian since he was a kid and knew the extent to which I thought the whole Christian thing was a contrivance. I had fought vigorously over coffee and cigarettes to convince him that religion had been created by leaders to control the masses or by weak individuals to soften the blow of their incapacity to deal with their day to day lives. He never did come around to my way of thinking, but I figured if he could overlook the fact that I was an alcoholic single mother with two kids and marry me, I could overlook the fact that he was a Christian and marry him. So here I was, convinced that this Christian thing was true, with no idea what that really meant. What followed was years of learning that is discussed in much greater detail in a book that I am writing. Suffice it to say that I learned that following Christ and living by the dictates of the Holy Spirit does not always add up to the overly simplified “join the team and your life will be wonderful” message that I have heard so frequently. As a matter of fact, the years since that day in 2003 have been some of the most difficult I have ever encountered. We have lost more than you can imagine-money, possessions, prestige and people. And yet, I would not turn back for the world. So, now I’m trying to make sense of this new life. Attempting to go beyond predictable platitudes in order to allow this change of heart to lead to a genuine change of life. This blog will chronicle the day to day joys and trials of my journey and raise some key questions and challenges I face as I find my place in a faith that still confounds me.
I’ve been thinking about Caroline’s Ferdinandsen’s post on ConversantLife.com called A Case for a Little Spiritual Quarantine. One line in particular has haunted me since I read it. Caroline writes, “my Christian faith has suffered from my chronic reading, interfacing, and networking this past year.”
I find this to be a chilling statement.
I do not know Caroline beyond her published articles in faith-based magazines, blog posts, comments and Conversant profile. But, if this writer/educator is finding it difficult to discern among thoughts and perspectives of the bloggers and authors out there, who else is reading books, blogs and articles and struggling to find a foothold?
This question led me to ask my writing-self some probing and personal questions. Specifically, I wondered what part my words play that struggle? Why is it that I write what I write? Do I take the time to consider how my words might impact a devout reader? A questioning reader? An unbelieving reader? Does it matter? What is my intention? Am hoping to entertain? To teach? To win an argument? Am I just trying to sound smart? Or to impress? Or be funny? Are my choices of topic and tone and perspective serving the reader? Or am I serving myself? In a nutshell, are the things I write part of the problem or part of the solution?
In her piece, Caroline made a somewhat counter-blog suggestion–for people to take some time off from reading to get alone with God and the Bible to gain a little clarity. I wonder if I might add my own counter-blog suggestion and ask that we take a break from writing long enough to consider these questions here together.
All you writers out there…would love to hear your thoughts…
posted December 1, 2008 at 3:41 pm
Caroline writes, “my Christian faith has suffered from my chronic reading, interfacing, and networking this past year.”
Ironic isnt it, the more information people of faith get, the less inclined they are for “blind” faith. Now you know why the Catholics only wanted priests to have bibles.
posted December 1, 2008 at 4:09 pm
TitforTat: I cannot speak for Caroline, but I think this may be the challenge of some people who grow up believing that one manifestation of faith is the “right” one. When other versions are presented, things that seemed absolute are less so. I think it begs a question not about having what you call blind faith, but whether that blind faith was in God or in the processes, procedures and doctrines. As for the Catholics. I know that there is a no-Bible history there, but that has changed dramatically. While I am not a Catholic, I teach at a Catholic college and listen to Catholic podcasts (I like to hear from everyone) and they talk about and encourage Bible-reading all the time.
posted December 3, 2008 at 2:18 pm
I run hot and cold with this. There are times when I’m a voracious reader of all manner of thoughts on faith. And then other times when I need a sabbatical from all that input, time for God and I to sit down and sort it all out.
It’s fun that not every day of my spiritual journey looks the same–there are great resources out there when we need them, but we’re not tied to them for our spiritual balance. Thanks for sharing this provocative post!
posted December 3, 2008 at 10:05 pm
Hi Joan – (I also commented on your Conversant Life page, but really wanted to find your blog. I found it!)
I read Tony Jones book a few months ago and really enjoyed it. FOr those of us brought up in the EVangelical Faith (and who can actually think for ourselves) it is a refreshing perspective on a potential transition in the church. I especially like the part where he talks about how Apostle Paul used a common “curse” word that never gets translated as such in our bibles. I guess that goes to show how easily amused and shallow I am, I guess.
posted December 4, 2008 at 12:41 am
Hey Brad: I responded at CL, but thought I would check in with you here as well. So what are you writing at Salon?