Introduction

This is not a theology book.

At least not in the usual sense.

There are no footnotes arguing in Latin. No carefully organized doctrines descending in neat rows from the filing cabinets of heaven. Here you will not find a seven-step plan for enlightenment, guideposts to spiritual victory, or ten rules for successful living.

This is, instead, a collection of suspicions.

Some arrived while sitting in church sanctuaries. Others appeared in grocery stores, hospital rooms, fellowship halls, parking lots, elevators, and long conversations with ordinary people trying to make sense of being alive.

For thirty years, I was a United Methodist pastor. Which means I spent much of my life attempting what might best be called retail theology: taking ideas far too large for the understanding of human beings (especially me) and packaging them into twelve-to-fifteen-minute sermons suitable for people who still needed to get home and beat the Baptists to the buffet.

Some Sundays I succeeded better than others.

Over the years, I slowly became less certain about many things I once thought required certainty. But strangely enough, uncertainty did not destroy faith. If anything, it made faith feel more honest. More human. Less like a fortress and more like a journey.

Or perhaps a wandering.

This book follows some of those wanderings.

Along the way, we will encounter an idea I call “The Me” — the complicated bundle of memories, fears, ambitions, opinions, wounds, loyalties, and survival mechanisms that most of us spend our lives defending as ourselves. Beneath that, or within it, I suspect there is something deeper. Something prior to all the noise. Something I refer to simply as “I Am.”

I am aware these terms may sound mystical, philosophical, or suspiciously like someone who owns too many wind chimes.

Please relax.

This is not a system. I am deeply suspicious of systems. Human beings have a long history of confusing explanatory diagrams with reality itself. A menu is useful, but eating the menu rarely satisfies hunger.

Instead, think of these essays as conversations. Or perhaps as sitting at a table with coffee and pastries while someone says, “I have been noticing something lately…”

Some chapters may sound theological. Others may sound philosophical, psychological, humorous, melancholy, or mildly absurd. That is because human life contains all those things simultaneously.

And while this book talks about God, religion, consciousness, myth, suffering, politics, love, fear, and meaning, it is not trying to trap the reader inside conclusions.

Quite the opposite. My hope is that these essays move you to do what I spent much of my ministry encouraging people to do:

Think.
Notice.
Question.
Wonder.
Reflect.

Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.

Or perhaps with humility and curiosity.

So this is not a map toward certainty. It is simply a record of things I have suspected while wandering around inside ordinary life.

The story is told of a congregation that decided to go out into the woods for a picnic – and became completely lost. After a while, they spotted the preacher. “Pastor! We’re so glad to see you. Now you can show us the way.

The preacher said, “To be honest, I am lost too. But I know several ways that do not get us out of here.”

And if any of these reflections help you notice something true about yourself, your neighbor, or the strange experience of being alive at all, then this quiet little adventure will have been worthwhile.

By the way, I put a blank page between each chapter. I certainly could have filled it with words, but perhaps you will have something to jot down there – something my words brought to mind.