Spiritual but Not Religious

As a parish pastor this phrase used to irk the hell out of me. I thought it was some sort of cop-out to not get up on Sunday morning. Or maybe they were disgruntled former church members who discovered the church was just as human as any other institution. Perhaps their family did not go to church when they were growing up, so there was no established habit or denominational preference. Perhaps they were so wounded by a church they couldn’t imagine ever returning. Perhaps they saw no reason to affiliate with an institution on the cutting edge of obsolescence. Or maybe they were just plain fed up with the church having little or nothing to do with Jesus. Whatever the reason I filtered it through the lens of trying to grow the church I was serving, and these spiritual but not religious types were not helpful. They did, however, come to the church when they wanted to get married, have a child baptized or have a funeral for a loved one. And of course the church opened its arms in welcome. Mostly we never saw them again.

More and more people describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. People probably have varying definitions of what this means; but what is consistent is that, for the most part, they feel no need to participate in institutionalized religion. I get it. There isn’t a church on the planet that isn’t screwed up in some way, some more than others. The church is a human institution and as such all the frailties and foibles of human beings play out in the life of the church. It can be crazy-making.

As someone who served the church all my life, I can also attest to the fact that churches can be the most loving, faithful, inspirational communities in the world. Churches are the institution God chose to be Holy hands, feet and hearts at work in the world.  When the church can get out of its own way and actually do real mission and ministry, it is an amazing thing. As Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small committed group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” If more churches were actually living the gospel, the world would be a very different place.

Now that I am six years into retirement, life has changed dramatically. I am an unintentional recluse. I belong to the church of my childhood, about 90 miles from where I live. I didn’t get custody of my local church in the divorce. My attendance at church is spotty at best. I do miss the communal singing, gathering at the communion table and fellowship with people I have known all my life. I believe there is a part of the Christian faith that can only be lived in community.

I never thought I would say it, but truth be told I am becoming spiritual but not religious. Not being able to attend church means I have to find other ways to nurture my spiritual life and ground myself in my faith. It has broadened my sense of worship and deepened my understanding that everything is holy.

It is a holy thing to watch vegetable blossoms turn into tomatoes, squash, beans and cucumbers. Watching the birds that find our backyard a haven of safety is an act of worship. I am struck silent in awe by the beauty of a summer day or the ferocity of a storm. I am inspired by the words of others who make me think differently about what it means to be a person of faith. I keep a journal and have quiet time every day. I listen to music that feeds my soul. I have a deeper appreciation for my tribe, that small group of people who show up no matter what, on whose fellowship I depend and through whose love I continue to grow. Many of them are also spiritual but not religious, but they embody the Christian faith in beautiful ways.

My heart is broken daily by the suffering, pain and hatred in the world. Watching the news is almost unbearable. Like many others I feel helpless to do anything to alleviate their suffering. All I can do is pray they will have some sense of the presence of the Holy to sustain them. I don’t pray for God to fix it. We don’t give God to-do lists. We humans messed it up; we are going to have to fix it. If I were younger and healthier I would be on a plane to work in the refugee camps, but alas that is not an option. What I can do is work to make my little part of the world a better place and live the love of Jesus as best I can. As the old saying goes, “If everyone swept in front of their own house the world would be a lot cleaner.”

Turns out, for the most part I am doing okay without the church. Whodathunkit? Surely I never did. My idea of what it means to be spiritual but not religious may be unique, or maybe not. It works for me and no one is more surprised than I.