First there is a
mountain then there is no mountain then there is
Caterpillar sheds
its skin to find a butterfly within
Donovan
A few weeks ago, I heard a long-time friend declare that
he no longer believed in God. I had
known some of this friend’s spiritual struggle, as we struggled together for a
time, so this news was not surprising. Nevertheless, hearing it out loud did cause me
to ponder. At a different time in my
life, such news would have been distressing.
Perhaps it is the times, or the time in my spiritual course, or both,
but I had a different reaction to my friend’s declaration.
I also recently upgraded the iOS on my iPhone that came with the new
Apple Music. After signing up and
selecting my preferences, one of the first playlists offered was Intro to
Donovan. I have always liked
Donovan. I highly recommend him if you
are into 60’s and 70’s folk rock.
Although I never bought one of his Albums during my teens, I certainly
heard a lot of him at the time and enjoyed his music. As I listened to this playlist, Donovan’s
catchy tune, There is a Mountain, came
up. As I listened, my thoughts
immediately went to my friend. The
convergence of these two events has triggered some reflection.
Spirituality, like other human qualities, develops through stages.
In the early stages, we are often taught and can only absorb things at
the level we are capable. I recall my
teenage daughter becoming upset when she heard me give my explanation of a
common bible story.
“What?!?!,” she exclaimed.
“That's not what I remember being taught about it. How come you never told me that’s what it meant?“
“Because you were 5 years old at the time. Now you’re a young adult so I can explain it
in a different way now.”
We can only understand what we are developmentally capable of
understanding. As we develop, earlier
conceptualizations need to be discharged and we need to wrestle with our new
understandings. Much of our certainty is
unsustainable. Understanding the nature
of existence must be wrestled with over time. As we do, old ways of
perceiving will pass and new ones will arise.
All types of existential crises, including crises of faith, have
been part of the human experience from time immemorial. It's what it
means to be human. It has been written about for ages and is a part of all
religious heritages. Current beliefs and behaviors are always at risk as
a result of these crises, and there are no guarantees that one will progress or
be better off as a result. But attempts to avoid such inevitable crises
by distraction or denial are equally perilous, if not more so. The path to an authentic breakthrough and
transformation of belief and behavior is through such crises. A church worth its salt should anticipate, teach, and uphold all stages of spiritual development, including crises of faith.
I am not discouraged about my dear friend’s declaration. My feelings are more like apprehensive
anticipation of his course and what lies ahead.
I am all too familiar with this feeling.
We are all riders on the storm.
I hope to respond to my friend no differently now as I should have
before, with steadfast love, support, and patience. I will mourn if my friend’s spiritual development
becomes a casualty of this existential process.
I maintain hope that my friend’s current spiritual place is right where
my friend needs to be at this point in development. And I will celebrate the goodness and new
understandings that will come as a result.
The lock upon my
garden gate, a snail that’s what it is…