Garden of Nectarios

Despair was taking over. My questions and doubts were mounting and no one around me seemed to understand. I couldn’t fake it anymore. All I could do was write. This is the honest cry of my heart, longing for fulfillment; it is raw and unfiltered, a snapshot in time of my spiritual desperation. This was written in 2022 as I traveled the country on a quest for God. Since then, I have found peace on many of these points while continuing to wrestle with others. I have a strong feeling I am not alone.

I am tired of waiting an entire year to talk about God’s incarnation at Christmas time, and then when the day comes, to be let down year after year at a message that is either bland (seeker-friendly) or boisterous (some ‘new take’ on a classic story). Inevitably, I walk away feeling … incomplete and unfulfilled, and then feeling guilty for feeling unfulfilled. A couple nostalgic Christmas songs, an anemic message telling me why I should care, and a three minute candle lighting just isn’t enough for my soul. I want more. I want to celebrate, I want to worship, I want to bask in the theology and the mystery and the holiness. I don’t want one or two services leading up to Christmas that direct my hectic life and frazzled thoughts toward the manger… I want weeks and months of preparation, of waiting in expectation for one of the holiest days in the history of Creation. Maybe I’m asking for too much.

For years I’ve tried my best to accept that the churches I’ve attended cater these holy days for seekers. CEO Christians, as they are termed: Christmas & Easter Only. But it seems like what they need and what I need are incongruous, and no one else seems to feel that way. Why should my ardent desire for communion with God be sidelined to accommodate those who only worship God a couple times a year, and then by obligation? I don’t mean to be selfish. In fact, I have pushed down these feelings for years out of brotherly love for visitors and seekers. I want very badly for them to hear the Gospel when they arrive at church, to feel welcomed and embraced and for them to have what they need… but I need more.

But it brings me to the very nature and purpose of ‘church’, specifically the Sunday service… what is it for? Is it primarily a friendly venue for attendees to invite neighbors and coworkers to come hear the Gospel for the first time in an accessible and non-threatening way? I used to think so, even take pride in how accessible my church was to the non-believer. I believed, and still do, that there must be services and avenues for outreach and evangelism. But is that supposed to be the Sunday service where the earnest disciples of Christ gather together to worship?… I no longer think so. And it explains why I leave church on Sunday so hungry and thirsty and wondering, ‘is this all there is?’. Then on the car ride home I feel badly about myself, that somehow I am expecting too much, being too lofty or high-minded or that I am looking down on everyone else… I wonder, am I somehow trying to complicate, elevate or, heaven forbid, formalize the Sunday service to the explicit exclusion of my fellow man? My younger self would scoff and chide me: “What an un-Christian position, what a selfish heart posture, putting your needs above the needs of the downtrodden and the seeker! Christ came for THEM, remember? You’ve already been saved, but they need the Gospel! That’s more important than your desire for deeper worship, whatever that means, anyway.” My younger self believed this wholeheartedly. But I no longer can.

What is it I think I am missing, anyway? As if anticipating my dissatisfaction, pastors have told me for years that ‘it’s all about community’. Get connected, they say: join a small group/connect group/house church. Do a bible study, get an accountability partner, ask someone older at church to be your mentor. I did it all, every single thing I was told to do to increase the depth of my faith, and it worked for a long time, all through high school and college, in fact… so why doesn’t it satisfy me any more? Why does it seem like I’ve exhausted all the options and applied all the tools at my disposal for going deeper into my faith and relationship with God and still want more?

I am tired. I am tired of bouncing from church to church and looking for nourishment from the pastor. I am tired of reading my bible with no guardrails, always concerned that I don’t know what it means or am completely misreading it or distorting it or making it mean whatever I think it means. I am tired of being the final authority of what I think scripture means ‘for me.’

I am tired of having to judge for myself if a pastor’s theology is sound. With each and every church I’ve attended I feel I need to listen with a critical ear, asking myself ‘does this seem right in light of all of scripture? In light of what I know about Christ? In light of what I feel the Holy Spirit is doing in history?’ But you know what? I don’t have a seminary degree. And you know what? Each of these pastors DO have seminary degrees, and there are STILL times when they contradict one another! One pastor will emphasize the cultural context of the time, another the multiple meanings of a word in the original Greek, and still another will neglect all context and tie it to some life lesson he scribbled down the night before when he felt inspired. So all of scripture is open to interpretation, apparently, or at the very least open to application: every church and every pastor gets to decide how to apply the scripture to our real, modern lives.

I’m tired of trying to find a church that fits what I genuinely and earnestly believe to be the truth revealed in scripture. And I’m not alone. I’m burdened for my friends who are trying to find the right church for their families. Is this a good church for my kids? What are the programs like? Is the worship style/duration/volume to my taste? Is this church doing good in the community? Does this church align with what I believe about the sacraments, and is that something I can overlook? To be fair, I believe most of these decisions are made prayerfully and earnestly as my friends and I seek to honor God and be in the church He has for us. I know this because I do it, too. There are some people who switch churches because they don’t like the worship style, or they don’t feel ‘fed’ by the teachings from the pulpit. But there are others who have genuine concern that certain teachings are contrary to scripture (the highest authority for Evangelical Protestants), like homosexual unions, for example, just one of a hundred polarizing issues. For these dear friends, leaving one congregation is disheartening and not what they want, but their commitment to scripture and God compel them to sacrifice comfort for faithful obedience. And I can’t fault them for that, because I’ve done the same exact thing. Multiple times.

Trying to choose from the menu of denominations is more overwhelming than eating at The Cheesecake Factory. Just when you think you’ve found the right one, you start to second guess yourself. You finally order, you choose your denomination and settle in for the long haul. But then something shifts. Maybe a new pastor takes the helm. Culture, expression and even theology morphs around a leader, disrupting the community and detracting from the witness of unity and consistency in Christ. Sometimes an entire denomination or branch thereof announces a shift in their individual dogmas, their statement of faith. All of a sudden you have half the congregation staying, many people leaving, and most everyone feeling scared or confused or hurt or angry. Schism, fracture, splinter, pain.

I am tired of searching through church history for the ‘right’ branch of Christianity. Which reading of scripture and theological framework is correct? Can they all be? Can a Catholic agree with a Calvinist? Can an Anglican agree with a Reformer? Can Orthodoxy agree with any tradition? What is ecumenism, and is it truly the will of Christ to unite all the disparate churches into one? Are all branches of the church just that, branches of one larger tree, the body of Christ? Or is one church the ‘right’ church, and all other churches false/misled/deceived/incomplete? ‘It’s not my place to judge’, I remind myself, ‘only God knows’. Is that trust, or burying my head in the sand? Maybe God just gives every church denomination a little piece of truth, and we all need to work together to build the puzzle… but that doesn’t seem right… that seems like God is playing a game, or like the Holy Spirit has different ideas for each denomination, and that feels like confusion and not truth. Who has the real Holy Spirit? Maybe we all do, and maybe none of us do.

So I guess God is schizophrenic. This thought has haunted me for years. Can God be doing different things in different churches across the world, even when the beliefs and practices of those churches are in stark opposition to one another? What items of doctrine are dogma, and what are open for interpretation and individual and community expression? Baptism? Communion? Clergy? “It’s not all relative, you know…” I heard my mom say as a kid, “… there IS Truth.” That idea, that there is a concrete Christian truth, has always–and still does–make me uncomfortable, I’m not going to lie. Because it might mean that there is a right path, the Way, and that would mean there are wrong ways… and I have no idea which is which. And that would mean that that old timey word, ‘heresy’, might actually be real and I might actually be a heretic without knowing it… and since that thought is too terrifying to bear, I push it down and plug my ears and just choose to believe that the Holy Spirit is guiding me and showing ME the truth, somehow, some way…

I’m tired of having all these thoughts and on top of that guilt. Guilt that searching for truth and ‘right’ness is being dismissive of or even divisive among my fellow Christians. Guilt that somehow my search for Truth is dangerous and threatening to some. Guilt that stops me from pursuing Truth because finding it might hurt/challenge/offend the faith walk of someone I love. Surely harmony is the highest value. I’m called to be a peacemaker, right? So why does it feel like asking hard questions and searching for truth is disruptive to peace between Christians?

I’m tired of being a Jesus-ite when I want so badly to be a Christ-ian, and more than that, a Trinitarian. I know from experience that being a Jesus-ite sidelines the Father and the Holy Spirit. I’m tired of being treated like someone who can’t handle the complexities of trinitarian theology, like somehow that is too lofty and remains in the ivory towers of seminary, like somehow I don’t need to know that stuff, I just need to love Jesus with all my heart; the rest is too complicated for me, apparently. I’m tired of watered-down sermons when what I crave is true meat.

I’m tired of casual worship on Sundays. I’m tired of worship that emphasizes trendy vocals and instruments and technique and everything else. Don’t misunderstand, there is so much I’ve gained from the worship I’ve experienced throughout my life.. true feelings of connection with God. I think fondly of all the years at summer camp, belting out the words of heartfelt worship in the company of a hundred other students. I can recall with a smile the countless hours of Christian pop music blasted through the car radio as I was driven here and there by my devout mother. From radio to CDs to MP3s and finally iTunes, Christian music has moved me to cry in repentance, shout with joy and rejoicing, and pray fervently for the world. I have only good feelings about the worship that has drawn me close to God’s heart for decades. But a handful of 3 minute songs on Sunday morning somehow lack something for me now, and that loss of connection is not only sad but a little concerning. Is that wrong of me? Does that mean I’m not in the right frame of mind or I’ve somehow ‘outgrown’ the repetitive and theologically weak songs that qualify as worship? And there’s that guilt again: if contemporary worship isn’t ‘good enough’ for me anymore, then will others feel judged if they see me move in another direction?

I’m tired of irreverent and inconsistent communion. One church has it every week, delivered by the priest. Another church has it set up around the sanctuary to take individually as you please. One church offers a prayer of confession beforehand, another leaves it up to your own conscience to determine if you are ‘right before God and your neighbor’. One church provides it every week, another sporadically or once a month or a ‘bonus’ communion on a special holiday. Sometimes its wine, other times its juice, still other times its a sealed plastic pouch. I remember feeling strongly about communion in college. We should partake together, as the body of Christ, not just as a personal and optional choice. But I was the minority in a milieu seeped in a ‘personal relationship with Jesus Christ’ framework. From that perspective, communion is deeply personal so taking it as a group detracts from one’s personal connection with Jesus to remember and give thanks for what He accomplished for ME. Worse than that, taking communion as a congregation in an orderly fashion starts to feel formal, AKA old-timey, AKA stuffy, AKA rigid and, heaven forbid, liturgical. Worse still, receiving communion from an elder in the church or a priest starts to feel exclusive, like there is a power dynamic that confronts the freedom and equality I’ve come to love so dearly as a Westerner. Then there’s the issue of symbol vs. imparted grace, memorial of past work vs. strengthening for work to come. Is communion just a symbolic reminder of Christ’s work and what He accomplished once-and-for-all on the Cross? Or is it a real and tangible partaking of His very flesh and blood that imparts actual grace to sustain the Christian as they pursue Christlikeness? Is it looking back or looking forward, is it dead or is it alive, is it memory or is it hope for tomorrow?

I’m tired of being ignorant of church history and the richness of my faith. I’m tired of basically being told that they way we are doing it in our Evangelical Protestant church in the 21st century is the closest to the original church that we can get in today’s modern age. I’m tired of being surprised to learn things about the early church I never knew. I’m tired of feeling somehow that things have been kept from me, whether by ignorance or intention. And that makes me tired of questioning whether my church leaders and pastors were really paying attention in seminary, or if they just wrote off the church fathers and extra-biblical documentation of the church like it doesn’t matter anymore. Or like the first 1000 years of our faith is just ‘meh, not relevant’. Old men, old writings, old news. I guess we know better now.

I’m tired of mixing and matching my theology with every new wind of doctrine… liberation theology seems good in some ways, but so does feminist theology… the most compelling of all is the social justice angle of theology so relevant today. Isn’t God in the business of defending the poor and opressed? Isn’t he in the business of elevating all people into dignity regardless of gender? Isn’t he in the business of liberating the captives and taking the side of the downtrodden?… I see why I am so easily enamored with these aspects of modern theology. They call to a deep longing in my soul to believe in a God who is bigger and better than all these theological labels and theories.

I’m tired of a gnostic approach to our bodies in worship. We don’t bow. We don’t fast. We don’t light candles. We don’t smell incense. We don’t stand in reverence but for a few songs. We don’t believe the sacraments impart any real grace, but are merely symbolic. We don’t honor the clergy, but call them by first name. We adamantly resist confession. We don’t cross ourselves. Evangelicals find these customs superstitious and outdated at best, legalistic and heretical at worst, and those who worship in these ways are pitied for their provincial understanding of the faith. ‘We have freedom in Christ, we don’t need any of these old trappings and rituals to bring us closer to God!’. So, our bodies aren’t important in worship, then? It’s all in the rational mind, or in the emotional heart? What about my physical body? I’m tired of the lack of beauty in the sanctuary. I’m tired of a purely mental faith.

I’m tired of having no history, no cloud of witnesses, no communion of the saints. I’m tired of feeling like the dead in Christ are laying dormant somewhere and have no connection with the faithful alive today. Maybe someday we’ll talk to them again, but doing so in the here and now is not appropriate or beneficial. Praying to a saint is akin to idol worship in the Evangelical tradition.

I’m tired of feeling like there is something more, something I am missing in my faith. I’m tired of feeling guilty for feeling this way.

I’m tired of the lack of ascetic practice and the absence of those who honor God by willingly sacrificing their lives to solely worship Him. I’m sad that we have no role models for living pure and righteous lives, since we Protestants don’t look up to the saints. I’m tired of looking outside my faith tradition for those who have walked before me in ways I can emulate. I’m tired of being told that all I need for faith and righteousness can be found in the Bible, and if I’m not finding it, I must not be looking hard enough. I’m sad that the beauty of monasticism is not only missing completely from my faith tradition, but is derided and scorned by many Christians who pity those who have devoted their entire lives to worship and contemplate God.

I’m tired of craving a mentor and finding no one wise to speak into me and guide me in holiness. I’m tired of looking outside my tradition for a spiritual guide or director only to be disappointed by the relativistic, equivocal and noncommittal approach to spiritual growth when what I crave is guidance, instruction and wisdom as I pursue Christ. Once again, I come up empty. I’m tired of not having a trusted spiritual father/mother or confessor, someone who intimately knows my journey, accepts me as a fellow pilgrim, and yet exhorts me toward holiness. REAL holiness and sanctification, in a Real faith in the Real God, not just what makes me a nicer person.

I’m tired of hearing of the scientific ‘certainty’ of the precise nature of God and His working in the world and a host of other topics. I’m tired of the lack of mystery and reverence. I’m tired of applying the Western scientific method to faith, to systematizing and categorizing and formulating it in ways where everything is known in certainty. ‘This is precisely how salvation is attained, this is exactly what the sacraments impart, this is the totality of what Christ accomplished on the Cross’. Conversely (and somewhat ironically), I’m tired of NOT having certainty on theology! So much of what I’ve learned is mere opinion and individual interpretation of the text and independent word study of the teacher of the week. No consistency, reliability or trustworthiness in the source. Am I supposed to fact check every sermon or do my own deep-dive into the original Greek to verify this person’s facts to know whether their fresh take on this or that passage is sound? I guess I should just trust that the Holy Spirit is speaking through him or her, and if that is the case, then error can’t be taught… which then leads me back to confusion about the myriad denominations where pastors right this very moment are delivering conflicting sermons on this exact passage. So… who do I believe?

I’m tired of feeling like my ‘mission’ as a Christian is to reach and convert and convince others of God’s existence by my ‘witness’. I’m tired of looking outwardly toward others’ salvation to the neglect of my own soul and salvation. I’m tired of believing that salvation is a one time choice. I’ve laid aside that belief in favor of a living and active daily salvation until my final breath, a salvation I am working out with fear and trembling. I’m tired of being concerned for others’ eternal fate, and I don’t know if that is bad or not… I am tired of carrying that burden or responsibility somehow. It is too heavy for me.

All in all: I am tired.

Now that I see this all written down, I’m surprised and a little embarrassed. All this was inside me over these last few years, and I never gave voice to any of it… its no wonder why I feel exhausted. I can’t carry this burden of doubt and questioning in silence anymore. I need answers.. no, I need an encounter with God.