The Expansion of Faith

I attended a candlelight vigil for victims of the Christchurch Mosque attacks this evening at Pasadena City Hall.  It was pretty well-attended--I'd eyeball it at 120 people, from all faiths and walks of life.  There was also representation from City Council and the police department.

Driving home, I marveled at the expansion of my own faith over nearly three decades of religious upbringing and spiritual pursuit.

When I was little, I led several other little girls in inviting Jesus into their hearts.  My childhood friend Katrina; my other childhood friend Katherine; my little cousin Sophie.  As I grew older, I continued sharing my faith, but the conversions ceased.

At church--I'm thinking in particular of a charismatic megachurch we attended from 1996-2000--my heart would swell with tears during altar calls.  People were being saved and made whole again.  My sense of family was spiritual--and my immediate family was my site of discipleship.

My dad was especially gifted in Evangelizing family and friends--we said he had the gift, because it happened so naturally for him.  Much of our extended family in Taiwan was unsaved, and we prayed for them regularly.  We weathered "persecution" from them, too, ranging from mockery to outright conflict.

I went on mission trips when I was older, but the scope of our work was that of witness rather than overt proselytizing, due to the sensitive geographic area we were trying to reach.  As I interacted with poor farmers and minority tribes in China, my heart was stirred, but I knew that my long-term calling was to minister in the U.S.

The thing that has always puzzled me is why I inherently feel more comfortable, sometimes, around very good people who are not necessarily Christian.  My violin teacher in high school is one example, as are several friends from college.  I always "fellowshipped" and shared my "true heart" with my Christian community, but sometimes I felt I could be more myself with "pagans."

When it came to dating, Christian guys seemed both attracted to and cautious of my spiritual core.  I so longed for a life partner who would have my back in spiritual warfare, run hard after Jesus with me, and stand up against hypocrisy and injustice--even if it came at a personal cost.

I have yet to find a man like that in the church.  The American church has been so corrupted that sometimes I feel sick going to worship services.  I felt guilty for the last few years both about the amount of discomfort I would experience and also for the times that I opted out of Sunday worship for something more soul-satisfying.

I am now stepping out of that guilt and into the freedom that comes with know who I am, what I value, and those I call my family.  I spend about 10 hours a week in ecumenical community at Claremont School of Theology, where we engage in contemplative practices (as early Christians in the desert did), talk about the intersection of ministry and social justice (like so many founding leaders of faith in America did), and share personal theological struggles (in a way that I often can't within church structures).  I still listen to at least one sermon a week via podcasts, and I read Scripture daily.  I check in with a very prophetic friend on the phone once a week, and I keep running group texts with other friends from Divinity School.  God continues to speak to me in the dawn hours, right before waking, so that I can write down what I have received as soon as I get up.

I also spend about 10 hours a week interning for the Orange County Interfaith Network, where I have met some of the humblest and most faithful people I have ever encountered.  There is something very sweet and winsome about the interfaith community, where hearts are stirred to action whenever any segment of humanity suffers.  It's not about "us" or "them" or "this church" and "that congregation."  It truly is about following our collective conscience for the common good.  My faith is strengthened whenever I participate in interfaith gatherings.  "Let your light shine before all wo/men..." --and that includes lighting a candle for sisters and brothers of humanity, who express their faith in mosques, half a globe away.  Amen.