Spiritual But Not Religious

I remember in college when I was working at the library’s circulation desk, and I would see hordes of other students come and go every single day. They would pass by the big black desk, or they would stop, and I would have small, incidental conversations with them about whatever book they were checking out, or about the class they were taking that required the book, or about the weather. Some of them I would know from my own classes, and we would exchange a little more personal chitchat, making fun of professors, or setting up study “dates.” And once in a while someone would come up who didn’t have books,who I didn’t have classes with, and who I didn’t recognize at all. These people had ulterior motives, agendas that they would quickly get to, and I would have to respond. They knew I was stuck at that desk, so they had a solid audience, even if sometimes a perpetually bored one.

There were these two guys who showed up one afternoon while I was behind the desk. They were dressed in suits & ties (and now I have that Justin Timberlake song stuck in my head), with closely cropped haircuts, and smiles that would have creeped out even the people from the Black Hole Sun video. On their backs were bookbags, not unlike the type young children wore to school, with characters from kids’ shows emblazoned across them. And in their hands were pamphlets with pictures of hands pressed together as if in prayer. I knew exactly what they stood for, even though I didn’t know them personally. Every few months some facsimile of those guys  would show up at the desk and try to get me to go to their church. I would always decline, and they would move on to the next person at the desk.

But that one time was different. You see, I was at a crossroads in my life then. So when these two guys came up with their short haircuts, with their bookbags, and with their pamphlets, I was vulnerable to them. Then they asked me the question that shook my world.

“Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?”

And I had to answer “No.” There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation. The answer was “No.” And I didn’t even know if I wanted one right then, but I did know that I needed something to make sense of my life, where it was going, where it had been, what was so wrong with it at that exact moment. I knew I needed some answers. And those guys were as good a place as any to start. So I said “No,” and they took me to their nomadic church. They paraded me in front of their nomadic worshippers. They tried to groom me to be the next “guy” who would go out and bring other nomads into the faith.

I passed. Because in the process of going through the experience, I realized something extraordinary. I will always be spiritual, but I will never be religious. And that’s just fine with me. Let somebody else keep religion alive.

Sam