OUR SPIRITUAL JOURNEY
Who, what, and where is God? I think we each have our own sacred path that leads us to this entity we call God, Spirit, Great Spirit, Universe, Jesus, and so many more names. It is more the feeling I have when I am in concert with my beliefs in God. It is my journey, not yours. You may not have recognized that journey yet and would like to skip this story. I give you permission to do so. As you read these words, understand that this is my journey that Danielle has chosen to walk with me. (At least for now.) This is our story.
Both Danielle and I began our spiritual journey’s in very different ways and yet we eventually came together on the same spiritual path.
Danielle grew up in the small town of Piedmont, South Dakota and was introduced to the Methodist church in her teens. Her mom attended church and taught Sunday School. Her dad did not attend regularly but did make time to attend on Easter and Christmas. Since Danielle played guitar and loved to sing, she became part of the Praise and Worship Team at her church. She loved her minister, Pastor Leach. In fact, she was instrumental in modifying the worship service. Danielle loves to pray and she found that during the meditation time during the service, she did not have time to finish her prayers in the time of silence provided. She mentioned this to Pastor Leach and from that time forward, the time of silence did not end until Pastor Leach saw that Danielle had concluded her prayers.
Danielle was also very active with the youth group at church and she enjoyed her party times each week with them. At the conclusion of what may have been a summer program, all of the kids were encouraged to go to the front of the church, kneel down, and say that they believed in Jesus. Danielle chose not to participate because, as she put it, she did not believe in Jesus, because she did not really know who Jesus was and she did not want to lie in front of the church congregation. That night when she returned home, she got down on her knees and prayed, “Jesus if you’re real, reveal yourself to me.” She said that an immediate feeling of peace and comfort surrounded her and in that moment she felt the presence of Jesus. It was so very real that she was able to climb up into His lap and until this day she continues to feel His presence and she still climbs up onto his lap.
Her close friendship with Pastor Leach continued. The Pastor and her began attending local tractor shows a couple times a year. (Keep in mind this was a rural part of South Dakota) Much like car shows, tractor shows were designed to showcase the latest tractors and their makers. At these shows, Pastor Leach would lead a cowboy church where Danielle would play her guitar and sing praise songs. The cowboy church was held outdoors under a tent with maybe 50 or so cowboys in attendance. Danielle would play and sing and Pastor Leach would give a short message in the hour long service.
Danielle also had a unique baptism experience. When Pastor Leach and Danielle determined it was time for her baptism, they chose the creek that ran through the back of Danielle’s house. Pastor Leach, Danielle and Danielle’s dad went down to the creek and performed the baptism ritual and ceremony. Complete immersion in very cold water. Brrr! Danielle’s mom had chosen not to attend because in her words she, “ didn’t think Danielle was good enough to be baptized.”
As Danielle reflected on her church going experience, she only remembered the good things. She had no recollection of being taught about the idea original sin. The idea that when we are born we already hopelessly sinful. Daily she watched Joyce Meyers and Ken Copeland on television and loved their messages of hope and love.
Several years later when she moved to New Mexico she attended the Assembly of God church and the Vineyard church.
My experience growing up in the church was quite different. I attended the Christian Reformed Church in Arcadia located just a couple of blocks from my home. The congregation consisted on mostly people who lived in the local area and were Dutch. The Christian Reformed Church was an off-spring of the Dutch Reformed Church, a very conservative religion that believed only members of the Dutch Reformed Church were admitted into Heaven. It was also the denomination that created the idea of Apartheid and separation of races in South Africa.
In 1941 my grandparents, and three other couples, started this church in Arcadia It was a part of a larger denomination especially popular in the Midwest, particularly in Michigan and Iowa. The first missionary minister increased the size of the congregation by going through the local telephone book and calling people with Dutch surnames and inviting them to Sunday services. Eventually the church was constructed and over the years enlarged several times to accommodate the growing congregation.
My parents met in this church, married in this church, me and all my siblings were baptized as infants in this church and I later made my Profession of Faith in this church at the age of 15. Later my children were baptized and made their profession of faith in this church. The roots ran very deep.
I had so many mentors growing up. Friends of my parents that took a real interest in helping me along my religious path. People who cared about what happened to me. People who were kind and caring. They often waved at me or stopped me when they saw me riding by on my bike and sometimes invited me in for a cool drink and a snack. It was like one big happy family and I loved it! I set up my summertime “Lemonade and Hot Dog Stand” in front of one of their homes which was a busy street and a more desirable sales location than on the quiet street I lived on. I used their stove and refrigerator to cook the hot dogs and store the lemonade and made a few bucks from my sales.
I was often invited in for lunch with these friends and invited to Sunday dinners and barbecues.. Dutch meals were the best. Lunch often included a variety of meats and cheeses along with a delicious selection of breads and crackers. Sunday dinners were almost always a roast or fried chicken. I remember a very socially active church community that I was in love with. It was a close knit family of both adults and friends my age. In fact, the church was criticized for being less than hospitable to people with non-Dutch heritage.
Most of the people attending this little church lived within a mile of the church. Some of these people, including my parents, started the Arcadia Christian School, a one room schoolhouse with eight grades. One of the more humorous stories to come out of the beginning of this school was that it was originally named the Arcadia Christian Reformed School to match up with the Christian Reformed Church located a half-block away. It didn’t take long for the local community to react and take issue with the school being located in their community. There is no way they were going to allow a “reformed school” in their neighborhood. There was a lot of explaining to do before the community understood it was a church school and not a “reformed school” for juvenile delinquents. The controversy finally subsided. The school was appropriately renamed the Arcadia Christian School.
The Christian Reformed Church taught me early about being born into sin, that if I didn’t obey God I would go to hell, that if I didn’t measure up to God’s standards, my prayers would not be answered. It was drummed into my head from a very early age that I was born into sin. I was corrupt and that could not be changed unless I believed in Jesus dying for my sins and living an upright life governed by the teachings of the church. I believe this had everything to do with my poor self-image, my feelings of being less than, and believing I would never be good enough.. This was so deeply ingrained in me by the constant teachings by ministers, sunday school teachers, school teachers and members of the church.
Fast-forward many years. I am now an adult in my 40’s and am still very involved in the church. I am attending both the morning and evening services as well as being totally immersed in church activities. I sit on the church council and have served as both deacon and elder. I teach Sunday School, head committees and so much more. I am perpetuating the teachings I later realized to have been such a hindrance to my own growth.
My soon to be ex-wife and I were going through a separation and divorce but both of us were still attending the same Christian Reformed Church. The church of my childhood. I saw no difficulty in attending and worshiping in the same space. Two of my close friends and elders in the church came to visit us one evening. These two elders were people I had known for many years, had taken meals with. These were men that were among my dearest friends. I knew this must be more than a friendly meeting when they arrived unannounced and had driven more than 30 miles to where I was now living. They hesitatingly got to the point of their visit. They were representing the church council and asked me to find another church. My presence and my wife’s presence at worship services were creating a problem. People were taking sides and they thought it best I find another place of worship. What? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was devastated at what I was hearing. Really! Was this what my religion had finally come to? Where was the love? Where was my support? Where was God? I was being uprooted from my heritage. As much as I hated what was happening, I chose to find another church and in doing so God was leading me in a direction I could not have seen coming.
Although it took some time, I soon started attending a Presbyterian church. I soon found myself very involved with this church, had found a close friendship in Mark Kliewer, the interim minister and was a member of the Session or church council.
I was the chair of the Personnel Committee that was responsible for overseeing personnel issues with the church, the associated nursery school, and the church administrative staff. As mentioned, Mark was the interim minister and had a one year contract to provide ministerial duties with the church. The previous minister had accepted a call to another church and Mark served as minister while another minister was found.
As so often happens when there is a change in leadership, a particular faction in the church resented Mark and felt he was not doing what he had been called to do. I won’t go into the details but I was often asked to sit in on meetings between Mark and congregants who aired their grievances and complaints. I often could not believe my ears as these people shouted profanities and obscenities at Mark. Sometimes it felt as if I was sitting in a bar and not in the minister’s office. A few months later, Mark’s contract expired and he left to serve another nearby church as interim minister.
After Mark’s departure, and since I was seen as his friend, the same people who had resented Mark turned their anger and energy towards me. I suddenly found myself as their new “whipping boy”. Session meetings became difficult. If I said white one of them would say black and their anger was prevalent. I soon found myself feeling abused and those old feelings of not being good enough were returning.
By now a new minister had been found but that did not seem to solve any of the issues I had been experiencing. After one particular volatile diatribe directed at me by a fellow Session member, I saw myself as the victim. I realized perhaps for the first time that I had the choice to continue to be victimized or to be strong and stand up for myself. I chose the latter and made the decision to resign from the Council and leave the church. I was not going to be the victim of anyone’s verbal abuse again. I sent a letter of resignation to the minister along with my reasons! Interestingly, I never heard one single word back from anyone. I left the church!
I wondered where the love was in these churches? I also realized that this was a two-way street. I was not loving my enemies, I was not praying for those who persecuted me, I was only caught up in my own stew of anger and hate. The teachings of the church and Jesus were ignored as I was too busy being the victim.
I had now been away from the church for many years. Sundays became just another day for me. Fortunately, I did attend my A.A. meetings and that provided a spiritual base. I learned more about my relationship with God through the teachings of A.A. than I had never known while attending church. In 2001 I retired from my law enforcement career and was enjoying retirement. One day I had lunch with an acquaintance that changed my life forever. A former Captain I had worked for, Sue Burgoon and I had lunch together in Huntington Beach, one of my favorite spots in the world. During lunch the topic turned to spirituality, God, and religion. Sue said she had a book she thought I would be interested in and a few days later the book entitled “Discover the Power Within You” by Eric Butterworth arrived. The book, written back in the 1960s was amazing. I had only read the first half of the preface to the book when I could not put it down. It spoke to me as nothing had ever spoken to me before. It spoke of love, compassion, peace and most of all of never judging another for who they were or how or where they worshiped God. Butterworth let it be known that God leaves no one out and that became my credo. Most important was that Unity believed we are born into Original Blessing and not original sin.
Mr. Butterworth was a Unity minister, a movement that taught the importance of inclusivity, leaving no-one out. This movement was accepting of all other religions and sought only to see the Divine spark in all of us. Unity church was co-founded by Charles and Myrtle Fillmore back in the late 1800s. Myrtle was healed of her tuberculosis after being given a six month death decree (she lived for more than 40 years after that.) Charles saw how his wife had been healed and began a journey that would not only start a new movement but would see his own disability healed. He had one leg shorter by inches than the other and had to wear special shoes. Over a period of years the leg lengthened until he wore normal shoes and no longer walked with a limp.
I wanted to know more about the Unity movement and sought out a nearby Unity church in the Los Angeles area. I was met with open arms and warm smiles. I felt like I was home. I attended this Unity church for a little more than a year before moving to New Mexico. The small town I lived in had no Unity church and the nearest one was 87 miles and an hour-and-a -half away. So, I reverted back to old habits and just stopped attending church but I maintained a great interest in Unity. I read everything Eric Butterworth had written as well a several other Unity authors.
After nearly 10 years, I was going through yet another separation and divorce when I met Danielle. Our courtship and relationship is outlined in the chapter entitled The Teacher and the Groom. It soon became apparent that although Danielle and I came from different religious backgrounds, we had the same ideas about love, compassion, kindness, and peace. Danielle’s background was founded on love and a close relationship with Jesus. Mine was filled with the idea that I was born into a world where I was already condemned.
Soon after Danielle and I began dating, we drove to the Unity Church in Albuquerque where once again we were greeted with open arms and warm smiles. People seemed genuine in their loving ways. We were told that we were born into a world of original blessing! We were the apple of God’s eye and were magnificent and loved! We were not judged!
We still drive to Albuquerque each Sunday. A lengthy drive that is filled with music and conversation between Danielle and me. As we enter the sanctuary each Sunday we are greeted with the sound of laughter and love. The message is clearly mentioned by the minister each week, GOD AND UNITY LEAVE NO ONE OUT!”
We are now on the road to making a transition from New Mexico to Missouri to be near Unity Village, the headquarters of the Unity movement.
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