This morning I read an article by Lillian Daniel, pastor in the UCC, which has caused quite a stir.   Since sharing it on my Facebook page a flood of comments are pouring in either applauding or criticizing her position.   One thing we can all agree on:  Her post, which names people who classify themselves as “spiritual but not religious” as boring, is provocative.

And I loved it.

I loved it because it serves as a reminder to religious people like myself and hopefully to anyone who is serving or will serve in any church capacity that we have a public image problem to address.   We have failed in numerous ways to reflect the compassionate and servant Christ we claim to represent. We have shrouded much of the beauty and mystery of our faith with dogma and elitism.  We have turned the open-armed embrace of Christ on the cross where radical forgiveness was spoken into a circle of wagons fearful of secular culture.

And the people have spoken.  They like our Christ, but not Christians.   To their credit, they sought higher ground elsewhere, opting to identify themselves as spiritual but not religious, perhaps so as to distance themselves from the abuse and judgment we have heaped upon others, making them twice the sons and daughters of hell as ourselves (Matt. 23:15).

I am reminded of something my theology professor, J. Kameron Carter, once said which has haunted me since it touched my ears and I hope it haunts you as it touches your eyes.  He said,

The extent to which Israel does not believe Christ is the hoped-for Messiah is the same extent to which we have failed to be Christ’s Body.

Consider that for a moment. Or a lifetime.  What he is saying, essentially, is that unbelief is not the fault of the unbeliever.  It’s ours.   That people don’t get religion – something which sociologists have long argued is second-nature to being human – is a testament to the degree with which we have failed being properly religious.   James, the brother of Jesus, once said that true religion is this:  Looking after the orphan and widow in their distress.   In other words, true religion is charity.  It’s love.

So this article convicted me.   It made me think that the next time I hear someone tell me they are spiritual but not religious that perhaps my best response is one where I begin with a confession.   I’m sorry.

I also loved it because she hit the nail on the head when she named our proclivity towards individualism.   We hate authority.   We are a people, particularly in America, who have made individualism a moral virtue.  We tend to recoil at the prospect of being told anything, especially when it comes to matters of faith.   Sure, we will gladly play the game when it comes to making a buck, but religion?   Who are you to tell me how to think about God?   I can do that on my own, under a canopy of oak trees in the shadows of a setting sun, thank you very much.

But the question must be asked:   How do you know the inward groaning  you perceive to be the Holy Spirit isn’t just indigestion?  

We recognize this in most things.   I send my kids off to school to learn math and english and science under the tutelage and instruction of a teacher.   Why?  Because they are dumb without it.   They wouldn’t know a circle from a piece of bark if I or someone else didn’t explain it to them.   The Ethiopian eunuch Philip discovered on the side of the road was humble enough to admit that he couldn’t rightly understand the scriptures he was reading unless someone showed him (Acts 8).

Humility, however, is not a lauded American virtue.  It’s often seen as a sign of weakness.   Yet Jesus saw it as a great strength.   My kids will learn well in school if they remain humble and teachable.   Are we really so arrogant to assume that we have nothing to learn from 2000 years of church history and tradition?   Are we so smug in our own self-awareness that we think we don’t need the ongoing presence of a community who is rooted in a story bigger than our own growling stomachs to hold us accountable and point out our blind spots?

Being religious isn’t about being a stick-in-the-mud.  It’s about recognizing our dependence not only on God but on the other all around me who calls me to be something more than an island unto myself.    To take Jesus seriously means we see that other as Christ himself.

And that, friends, is pretty dang spiritual.