Margaret Wheeler-Johnson (1964-) wrote in the Huffington Post, “I gave up my religion – my magical thinking – around the time I went to college and tried not to think too much about it. I was no less alone when I had my religion than I am now.” Her article, “Losing My Religion: If I’m So Done With Faith, Why Do I Still Feel Its Loss?” (Feb. 28, 2012) immediately generated 2604 comments. Remarkable.
Comedian George Carlin (1937-) took a more relativistic approach. “Religion is like a pair of shoes … Find one that fits for you, but don’t make me wear your shoes.”
Like Margaret and George, many of us distance ourselves from “religion.” Being privately “spiritual” but not publicly “religious” has become the norm in American culture. “Religion” means ill-fitting “shoes,” repressive dogma, guilt-ridden duty, and all too common hypocrisy. It is not unusual to hear: “I’m into relationship with God, not religion.'”
But, hear that cliché with my ears. By the conclusion of this essay, I hope you will join me on a quest to reclaim this misunderstood word.
Imagine you are an adoptive parent meeting a nursery of toddlers. In this case, the toddlers are words describing how we relate to God. “Religion” is over in the corner. Come in so you can take a fresh look at “Religion.” This toddler comes to us from Latin – re – “again” + ligare – “to bind” (the origin of our word “ligament,” which binds bone to bone). Holy re-connection!
Some things need to be joined together. How could we live without our ligaments? Why leave a wound open when we can pull it together with sutures? How rejuvenating – when what had been broken is restored – “religamented” – especially our connection with our Maker and our neighbor. True “re-ligion!”
Still, let’s be honest – we are too disconnected from God and others. But, individuality is not the problem. When we look at the big picture, we find God likes diversity – he’s made a lot of unique individuals. Even as the Father, the Son, and the Spirit each have their own dignity, so each of us is prized as an individual person.
Our problem is not individuality but our natural selfishness. In “Blue Like Jazz,” Donald Miller (1971-) writes: “I felt like life was a story about me because I was in every scene. In fact, I was the only one in every scene. I was everywhere I went. If somebody walked into my scene, it would frustrate me because they were disrupting the general theme of my play. Sometimes I would have scenes with them. They would speak their lines, and I would speak mine. But the movie, the grand movie, was about me” (p. 180).
Because others are like us, real connections can be complicated. Some relationships can be toxic – even in our families and where we go to school or work. Some relationships are like trying to put the wrong blade on a pair of scissors. Likewise, some religions are false. Ultimately, they do not connect us with God and others. They are like trying to force a non-metric nut on a metric bolt and stripping the threads. Those are only “so-called” religions. Be aware.
Despite the reality of such disconnects, there are authentic relationships. When Jesus tells us that we – folks whose connectors are damaged – are to focus on loving God and our neighbor, his purpose is to change us from the inside out. And how does he do that? In some mysterious way, by voluntarily giving his life on the cross, Jesus opened the door for his Spirit to be at work in so many of us. If we are to get beyond focusing on ourselves, we need the Spirit of Christ.
Still, we wonder: “Is community with God possible for people like us?” We are naturally selfish, easily distracted, and wrapped up in the complexities of our own lives. We would rather leave the toddler “Religion” in the corner.
Here the Christian story takes a twist. Many of us find that we are in the nursery, and God has come with adoption papers. The marvel of the gospel is that God has taken on himself the weight of reestablishing his relationship with sinners like us. This adopting Father is real. Through his Spirit, we sense his care for us – particularly in his noblest act of love – sacrificing his Son for us on the cross. Our adoption papers are signed in the blood of his beloved Son. In Christ, we can be religamented – in our relationship with God and each other. Welcome home.
What would it be like for Margaret Wheeler-Johnson to be “religamented?” She feels alone. She wrote: “Afterwards, we ride or walk back to our respective apartments, which do not feel like home, and on the way peer into store and restaurant windows, gazing at the human forms inside, the mannequins and the animate, and resist feeling all kinds of empty that we can’t name and can’t begin to fill.” What if she discovers that the heavenly Father has chosen to establish rapport with her in Christ – that he has adopted her and is taking her home to his family – true re-ligion?
