"I'm more spiritual than religious": The Return to FernGully

I often sat on the stone covered bench in the garden outside my house at the age of 13, or maybe I was 14. Either way, I was probably a little too old to be sitting around in fairyland, pretending to be in a rainforest. When no one was watching, I would make my way to the alcove in the woods where I would sit on the ground and allow the curtain of leaves to engulf my body. I remember the perfection of the leaves and how they made it possible for me to hide from those who would ridicule me for pretending. Directly in front of me was the living room whose walls were not entirely perpendicular to the ground. The wall of leaves casually met the ground without any regard to symmetry or adherence to architectural standards. There could be a sarcastic, gaping hole that would permit weather, both good and bad, to enter at will. Most of the time, it would be sunshine peeking through, contributing a sweet fragrance to the moistened iridescent leaves. In my living room, the people had no character flaws; they never spoke at all, for that matter. But their presence would often remind me of the laundry that needed to be folded in the next room. The laundry here was invisible, along with the dirty dishes and the laughter of close family.

I don’t remember what I was trying to escape. Perhaps the desire to escape family is only natural for adolescents, but I do know that I longed for a place with no rules, no order, and no noise. I was indeed in search of a great abyss, a place of nothingness, a place where I could enjoy the serenity of isolation.

Oftentimes Christians find themselves in this same desperate state, a state where they become disillusioned by some of the tragedies that lie in the Church, and they begin to search for their great abyss.

A few years ago, I heard Jennifer Lopez’s character in the movie Monster-In-Law say, “I’m more spiritual than religious” when giving her rationale as to why she didn’t want to be married in a church. Since then I’ve heard this statement a number of times, usually from a celebrity who’s tired of “religion as usual.” But I’ve noticed that it has become trendy and hip to denounce one’s religion (while sipping on a cappuccino) in order to embrace the abyss of spirituality. When people denounce their religion in order to seek spirituality, one of two things has happened: Either they have been really hurt by a person or organization within the Church or they’re tired of all of the rules and protocol that is associated with the Church. Many feel that if they claim to be spiritual instead of religious that they rid themselves of any obligations or duties.

This new spiritual lifestyle sounds appealing, especially when many churches are littered with hypocrisy and political protocol. It’s easy to embrace the trend of spirituality when the pastor of your church is oblivious to social injustices or when the Church is more concerned with selling peanut brittle than with feeding the homeless people on the church steps.

In the midst of this unsettling reality of the Church, it’s tempting to be charmed by the current trends that bombard us in the media. It seems that anyone with a voice is proclaiming, “I’m more spiritual than religious.”

The problem with this practice is that it is quite deceptive. It is a notion that a person can embrace a lifestyle that is devoid of rules, regulations, hypocrites, Pharisaical maniacs, and traditions. Although this is the case for a while, that great abyss of nothingness lasts only for a season. By nature we need rules, consistency, and stability; and eventually, we will be searching for something to bring us those things.

When I was a kid playing in the woods, although I was trying to escape the responsibility, the pain, the rules, the obligations, I sought for yet another household to fill that void. I tried for a while to sit in my alcove and allow nothingness to fill my mind with peace. Instead, I found myself turning my space into a house, imagining my own living room, bedrooms, and family. After a period of time, I could no longer sit in woods and think of nothing. I had to fill my mind with something.

If we choose to leave the Church and embrace a “spiritual” lifestyle, we are not headed to a place devoid of the negativities of the Church. Instead, we are headed to a blank slate, a fairyland that is vulnerable to the lies and deception of the enemy. Once our minds become bored with the abyss, we will begin to accept ideas that do not align with the Bible and begin to build things in our lives that aren’t even real. We will create an invisible living room with invisible people who are reminding you to wash the invisible load of laundry.

It is important to seek truth wholeheartedly and seek to change the face of religion by creating a climate in your own house of worship or meeting place that is socially conscious, nonjudgmental, and open-minded, as opposed to running from a religion that could serve as the doctrinally sound source of your livelihood.

No longer should anyone view spirituality as an escape from religion. Since when have the terms been mutually exclusive? I've had more spiritual experiences when I've embraced my core belief system than when I have allowed myself to become cynically detached from them.