The Burden of Belief

Finding the Way of Belonging over the Ways of Believing

Photo by David Pisnoy on Unsplash

As far as I know, Jesus never came to tell us whose in and whose out. It seems to me that he favored the ones who thought they were “out” and reserved his harshest criticism for those who thought themselves “in.”

What I’m seeing now is that Jesus offered us a way to live—more than he did a way to believe. Of course, he did lay some things out in black and white. But, in order to live well and be well, we need a whole “other” way of living and believing than just trying to believe the right things. I get this notion from the times in Acts where Luke, the author, tells us that the first followers of Jesus were not called Christians. They were called “followers of the way.” Luke repeats this for us no less than five times in Acts. (If this interest you, I explain this in my book, The Jesus Life).

I like calling myself a “follower of the ways of Jesus” these days because there is so, so, so much baggage in calling oneself an “evangelical” (a term I gave up on years ago) and a “progressive” ( a term that is loaded and creates discord). If I am to wear a label these days, let it be this one: I follow the ways and the teachings of Jesus and love is my aim and my mandate.

For many of us who were raised in certain denominations and reared saying certain creeds, we seemed to have spent a lot of time trying to convince everyone else that we are in the right and “those” people are in the wrong.

It all creates a burden of belief that is exhausting. As I look back on my faith journey these days, I can see how tired I have become of this burden. I don’t think I am alone either. We are learning that those who now call themselves the “dones”—the ones who are done with the church; done with denominationalism, done with in-fighting, are now the fastest growing and soon to be largest set of people groups when asked about religion preferences. Done with church—that kind of thing. I am done with the burden of belief.

Religion can cripple. Religion can create a heavy burden when wonderful people are swept into churches, denominations and faiths where much of the talk; much of the energy; much of the money is going to divide us and keep us apart.

Just this past week, a couple told Gwen and me that they now realize that their church is a cult. In their late 60’s, they came to the conclusion that being in a system where there was such an authoritarian leader (preacher) had created a system akin to a cult and they wanted out. They felt shame for realizing this so late in their journey. But, at least they did—and they are now finding a freedom they had heard about but had not tasted until now.

It doesn’t take long to realize that this kind of mentality is seen in the political world as well as the theological world. The fruit of such nonsense is the fracturing of people and relationships.

We have perpetuated what I call “Torah living.” Torah is the Hebrew word for “law” and it is associated with much of the laws contained in the Christian Scriptures in the Old Testament—the first five books of the Bible to be more exact. In these books, we find: Laws which tell you what is right. Laws which tell you what is wrong and who is wrong. Laws which define how a one set of people, who are “in” should live and how everyone else is, well, they are just wrong and they are out.

The older I become, the more I wholeheartedly agree with the poet, Mary Oliver who wrote these words:

“Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.”
― Mary Oliver, Evidence: Poems

To unlearn the burden of belief is a journey in itself. You may at first feel shame; feel yourself in a wilderness; feel yourself ostracized and more. But step by step, in the unlearning, we find a whole other way of live that is more spacious and more gracious.

When we made our big reset of our lives and moved to the mountains of North Carolina, I did two important things. First, I registered to vote and registered this time as an “independent.” I just can’t take this war of words; this ‘sin of certainity’ over this group is wrong and this group is right. My registering this time as an “independent” actually invited me to experience some “independence” from always being in one camp. I guess, I’m not a one camp kind of person. It’s too complicated for me to think in such a binary way these days.

Secondly, for my faith community, I needed to find people who were gracious, open minded and offered space to keep on figuring things out or resigning to some of the things that perhaps will never be figured out. To our great surprise, we found a band of brothers and sisters who welcomed us not for our right beliefs; not because we were card carrying denominational experts. But, we came as pilgrims in search of a place of belonging. Having never been Episcopalian before, we are offered a way to belong without actually looking for membership. When our priest asked us if we intended to “join” the Episcopal church, I said, “I’m not sure I can “Join” anything else at this stage of my life. There’s alot I don’t know and to be more specific, I have not figured out the hats, robes and rings —all the smells and bells of the Episcopal way of faith.” She laughed. I laughed. She said, just belong then. I really, really liked it when she said, “just belong”. You don’t have to join. I felt a settledness come over me that I have been looking for—to belong without having to believe certain things. As I was writing this Substack, I just texted our priest to ask her what the exact wording is that is used that attracted me so much to this church. She texted back these words: Our church is A JOYFUL, GENEROUS and WELCOMING FAITH COMMUNITY. I love each of these words and I love to belong to a people group who seek to both understand and practice these words.

The writings of Wendell Berry, has helped me greatly. Berry writes:

As I have read the Gospels over the years, the belief has grown in me that Christ did not come to found an organized religion but came instead to found an unorganized one. He seems to have come to carry religion out of the temples into the fields and sheep pastures, onto the roadsides and the banks of the rivers, into the houses of sinners and publicans, into the town and the wilderness, toward the membership of all that is here. Well, you can read and see what you think.”

― Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow

Belonging trumps belief for me and still does. I wonder how some of you will react to me saying this outloud? I wonder what me saying “belong” matters more than “believing”—will stir up in you?

Will I now be “out”? :-)

The burden of belief is a burden I simply cannot carry any longer. I don’t have the bandwidth and I do not have the strength to carry such a burden. I have to lay it down.

What I’m finding these days are the lessons I keep learning in the Sunday School of my covered porch as I keep watching the birds and the flowers in their full array of glory and manifold beauty. They are not striving. They are not toiling. They are not taxed. They seem to know nothing of creeds and religious formulas. But they are alive. They are doing important work in their nest building and pollinating and showing off from time to time.

For eleven months now, I’ve been at work on this particular poem I’ll show you today in this Substack. You’ll catch my drift pretty quickly and see where I’m going and what I’m intending to say in a poem—that feels different perhaps, than how I’ve said it right here in the prose section.

See what you think and if you feel free, leave a comment for us to read. It is always so encouraging when you—the readers of my Substack interact with me. I’m so grateful when you do. It helps foster the little community I was hoping for when I started the Substack almost a year ago now.

Here’s the poem titled, “The Burden of Belief.” It’s the same title as the prose introduction, but in my poem, as you know, I am trying to say more in less words.