My faith has morphed over the years. I was raised Catholic, thought for a bit about being a Unitarian and a Buddhist, and then through yoga thought that Hinduism may be a possibility. Finally, I happily settled on being interested in religion and calling myself spiritual without affiliation.
So it came as quite a surprise that Christmas Eve found me in a Methodist Church pondering my faith again. I went with my family to the First United Methodist Church of Orlando. I really went because I wanted to support my sister; she’s on staff there and runs all of the communications for the Church. She and my brother-in-law were married in that church and both of my nieces were baptized there. Plus, I love Christmas carols, of which there are many at the family service.
And then a very odd thing happened. The Head Pastor gave a sermon about people unlikely to call themselves religious. He talked about Joseph and his very serious consideration of leaving behind his family and his faith. After further contemplation, he felt something greater than himself asking him to stay, to persevere, to not give up. He talked about people who have considered giving up on their faith, people who doubt and question, people who feel like they don’t really belong to any affiliation. The remarkable thing is that he didn’t talk down to those people; he didn’t criticize them. Quite the opposite – he invited them in. In a moment of silence he asked us to bow our heads, close our eyes, and raise our hands if anyone felt like they might belong to one of those groups, and would like the congregation to pray for them.
I found that the idea of staying, just sticking around to see how it goes, made my eyes water, and I raised my hand. I did need the prayers he so generously offered. On Christmas Eve I felt a little lost, a little out-of-place, but still moved to further explore my faith, and even considering that spiritual without affiliation may not be enough for me anymore. And even though I felt lost, I also felt that I was in exactly the right place, as if that Pastor, and maybe even the Universe, knew what I needed far better than I did.
We closed the service by lighting candles and walking together out of the church singing Silent Night. I was surprised how warm the light of my candle felt, alarmingly warm. I felt a little message in that flame. If I stayed, maybe some answers would show up, answers that in all of my exploring I have not yet been able to find. Rather than dashing here, there, and everywhere, maybe I just needed to be still, and wait, and listen.
That’s my Christmas story this year. How did it go for you?
The image above makes me remember how much can be found through faith. Find it here.
Christa Avampato 