Belong

In my recent experience with dating, one of the most common questions I am asked on a first date is how religious are you?

I do not blame guys for asking me this. In the early get to know you conversations religion comes up a lot: I work for a mainline Christian denomination, my dad is a retired pastor, my mom is a director of worship, my grandfather was clergy, one of my best friends is clergy, I have godparents and a goddaughter and wear a cross around my neck. It is a fair question to ask.

The funny and also sad thing is the way the question is asked. It seems that the men asking me this are always a little afraid of the answer, like I’m going to turn out to be one of the scary, wildly radical Christians on TV. I sense the fear that a relationship with me would involve my insisting they convert and become pious.

They could not possibly be more wrong. I am pious in almost zero ways (it might actually be zero ways, I’m not entirely sure of the exact definition of pious). I love a good joke about religion. There are many Jesus memes saved in my phone, which I deploy when things are getting to serious. Frequently I will say things like “Blessings” or “Praise be”, but in a jokey way. The only scripture I quote is “Jesus wept” for three reasons: 1) it’s short and I can remember it, 2) it’s funny when used at the right moment, and 3) I don’t know any other scripture by heart. I get actively frustrated that we pray so much at work and am annoyed when people say, “we know your work here is your ministry.” (It’s not a ministry for me, it is my job. To say otherwise feels disingenuous, even though I do work for a church.) At times I do or say things that I imagine some people might call sacrilegious, such as slugging back the leftover blood of Christ of an Easter Sunday morning. (Which is not, by the way, sacrilegious. Leftovers are supposed to be consumed or returned to the earth, not dumped down the drain.)

It tasted a little metallic if I’m honest.

Then there are the other things that I suppose do make me religious. I wear a cross. I have a cross and angels around my home, not to mention half a shelf of decidedly religious books and bibles. (I don’t read them much, but I have them). I don’t pray conventionally all that often, but I do talk to God much like Tevye does in Fiddler on the Roof, randomly speaking out loud as if God is standing in the room with me. There are select stories from the Bible, mostly of Jesus, that I know and refer to for peace, comfort, mostly wisdom. These stories, made relevant to me through sermons or conversations mostly with my father and/or my best friend, are structural to my understanding of being. There are hymns and praise songs that make me feel things deep in my soul which feels decidedly religious.

Even with the major influence of Christianity in my life, I still sometimes find myself at sea in the practice of religion.

I haven’t gone to church regularly since my dad retired last year, in part because I don’t know how to go to church when I’m not blood-related to the pastor. For all the unique and sometimes annoying moments it brings to life, being the pastor’s kid is still better than not being the pastor’s kid in my eyes. It feels like being a church celebrity.

In worship services I do not actually feel like I am worshipping. I am not comfortable demonstrating public displays of worship other than singing along to the music. I do not like praying out loud, unless I am allowed to use one of the sung graces that I learned at summer camp. To me, faith feels very private, but that is the very opposite of the point. You’re supposed to talk about it, to share your faith, to spread the word. It is deep confliction to fall back on Jesus personally, but not want to talk about it. It is especially weird as I will talk about pretty much anything else.

This weekend I worked the largest youth event of our whole year for work. It is a massive three day conference with lots of great worship music, performance artists, and speakers all devoted to bringing young people together to experience Jesus. It is the most fun event to work without question. The odd thing is that when I think about it, I know my teenaged self would have hated the whole experience. It just wouldn’t have been my thing, it wouldn’t have been meaningful for me because of my aversion to public displays of worship and also crowds.

The theme this year was “Belong” based off of a scripture from Romans. To sum it up the scripture essentially says that we, though many and varied, form one body to which we all belong. I spent a lot of this weekend with a whisper in the back of my mind, asking myself over and over again, “Do you believe that? Do you believe that you belong here? Belong in the church at all? Do you believe in any of this?” Doubts soared as I bopped around the convention center surrounded by vocal and very public believers. I truly wondered if I belonged.

Then, this morning. Just after 7:00 am I was in my car driving from the hotel to the convention center. My phone connected to my car and music started playing. The song was “We Belong” by Pat Benatar and when I heard the opening notes I laughed out loud. The whole time we were planning this event when anyone mentioned the theme “Belong”, that song popped into my head. I mentioned the song when the theme was picked, but most people I spoke to about it weren’t familiar. It became a thing I just sang to myself any time I saw the logo or heard “Belong” mentioned in conversation. Hearing this song, which has nothing to do with religion whatsoever, come on randomly this morning on the last day of the event: that was a God moment for me. I honestly believe that God knew I needed to hear that song, my little theme tune from over the months of planning this event. I needed to hear it to be reminded that I do belong right where I am, doing the work I am doing, even when I get annoyed that we pray so much at work.

Okay God, thank you for that. Message received.

So, how religious am I? More than the average bear, but a lot less than the pope.