I relate hard to this as a lapsed Catholic. You've given me pause to consider how spirituality can shift and change over time and doesn't need to be a hard rejection. Thanks, as always, for your wisdom, Jeannie.
Oh wow, Julie, I didn’t realize that! It’s really incredible to learn more about the people I’ve gotten to know through the Substack space. I love everything about these conversations, especially when people share things they wouldn’t normally feel comfortable or safe doing so. I want everyone’s lived experience to be welcome and honored here in my space. :) Thanks for sticking with me so long!
Yes we have much in common 😝 Fun to discover through this space. I had a similar postpartum experience, and a chapter in my book is about "losing" my religion.
I'm glad you were able to find someone that helped you grow your faith in a way that made more sense to you.
My dad was that person for me. Although we, my siblings and I were raised in a Methodist church--which was my mother's religion--my dad was raised as a Quaker.
We were taught, by him to question every aspect of the faith lessons we were learning in Sunday school and to question what fit for us right now and what didn't.
All throughout the rest of his life, his message remind the same spirituality is meant to grow with us, to stretch us as human beings to be better people.
There is more to spiritual growth than our religious beliefs and values.
I love that your dad taught you to be open-minded and curious, Nancy. Most of us were taught to never question the religious constructs within which we were raised. That’s such a gift he imparted to you.
I’ve never heard anyone describe this feeling of profound disillusionment better than you did here, Jeannie. Although I was not born into the Catholic faith, I felt a calling in early adulthood and became a candidate for the ministry in my own Protestant faith. I was so sure this was it. But one day I had a spiritual awakening and, when I realised that God didn’t live in a building, and that His role in my life was not even close to the direction in which I was heading, I had to leave that path. Although I wasn’t sure where I was going, I came to believe that the journey and how I live it is the answer for me. My faith is strong and I have developed resilience. One of my most respected teachers on this journey has said that my spiritual gift is fortitude, and I feel humbled by that, as well as by my newfound connection with fellow travellers. Thank you for being in my spiritual life, Jeannie.
I love reading this about your journey, Heather. Some of the most mature and deeply spiritual people I have met are those brave enough to walk outside of church walls and institutions in order to allow their faith to become bigger than the containers into which they were told everything had to fit.
I have to say, that’s been a really hard thing for me. I still grapple with it. I still carry a lot of guilt and shame, like, what if I’m a “bad” Catholic? It’s deeply ingrained in some of us, this concept of right/wrong and sin/holiness, and I’m not saying I don’t believe in these things. I’m saying that, as you said here, faith is bigger than the buildings and doctrines we restrict God to.
Oh Jeannie. This one line "Instead, it seems to me that the way organized religion is presented to a person can be either harmful or healthy..." This may be the distinction I've been searching for. That the harmful of organized religion is when it is presented as the only way, the only right, the only salvation. When it is presented as a way to create lines, boundaries, boxes so that there is an "us" and a "them". Because who among us has not felt like a "them" in their own house of worship? It is, as you always say, when we lead with love that the invitation feels as such. Instead of like a commandment.
Yes, Jess, I hear this so deeply! So many of us were, sadly, raised to believe that there was only one way—the “right” way—and religion became weaponized to shame and control us. It’s so sad to me, because I truly don’t think that religion in itself is the culprit. It’s the way it is manipulated by those in positions of power. And I can also see more clearly how those who are predisposed to certain psychological ailments latch on to the rigidity of religious tenets, because they can leverage these in order to justify abuse, shame, control, etc.
These conversations really fuel me. I’m so grateful for your comment and for your friendship!
“ It’s good you feel like you’re losing your faith, because that means you are outgrowing the old containers that restricted your faith from becoming something beyond definition. When your faith stretches outside these boxes, it feels like a type of death, because it is.”
I admire those who are losing and have lost their faith and are leaning into that as a way to shed an old skin and find a new awareness! It’s painful and it’s real!
It is! It was such a gift from Mary Sharon to hear this, Teri Leigh. I needed it. Such healing words. Almost like a permission I never got from my family of origin.
I was raised in a pretty conservative Missouri Synod Lutheran Church. We went to church every Sunday. My mom was all in on women's lib, though, and she wasn't afraid to voice opinions that were controversial back then on that, or any other issue. It makes me chuckle remembering her best friend was the minister's wife. Great discussions were had at our house!
After cancer, not mine but my mother’s, my faith wavered. I haven't been to church since. Long story.
I appreciate your take that it's not organized religion that's off but the way it's sometimes presented. And that we can question, even lose faith, but still have faith, too. It's complicated alright.
These days I'm disappointed in people who claim to be Christian but yet treat the poor, immigrants, the LGBT community, and even women with such judgmental attitudes. I don't mean to get political on your site, but folks that base their vote on one issue drive me a little crazy too.
I appreciate your willingness to start this discussion. Religion is a tricky one, that's for sure. But one thing we can all do a better of is listening to one another. Thanks for doing that through your writings and discussions.
Nancy, that was incredibly brave of your mom to voice her views when she was in such a conservative atmosphere. I once worked for a Missouri Synod Lutheran church, when I was in graduate school. They called me “The Roman,” because I was, of course, the only Catholic there.
I hear you about people who vote on one issue and Christians who claim to love and follow God but do not enfold the disenfranchised within their orbit of “community.” Church can mean a lot of things, not least of which is within an institution. I think many people choose institutional church, because it is safe to be part of something to which you feel you belong, even if belonging isn’t true belonging, but is instead a form of fitting in.
True belonging, of course, means that one can be oneself and accepted and celebrated as that person without being shunned or shamed.
I have to say, I was so proud of our pastor about a month ago. He gave a homily/sermon about how diversity within the church is good, and it’s important for each of us to realize that sometimes we get caught up with the wrong things, like whether or not the choir sings well enough or we have the “right” equipment for music, or the pastor preaches well enough. Instead, he said, what about embracing all of the different perspectives and acknowledging that some of these are preferences and not a make-or-break issue? What about looking outside of our synagogues and sanctuaries and seeking out relationships with the very people we are most unlike? I appreciated that so much.
Oh, how I relate to everything you say here Jeannie! What we think makes us perfect mothers... the pressure. How ridiculous (and harmful!) it is! I loved what Mary Sharon told you! So wise. And I'm glad you are here to share your wisdom with us!
You continue to amaze me. As someone who grew up Catholic, (then Lutheran and non-denominational and briefly/accidentally Wesleyan) I understand why you wouldn't have wanted to write this. But I'm glad you did.
I have a lot of thoughts on religion... I can't say anything positive there. So I probably won't say anything.
What I can say is that I felt like I was always trying to fit into a box when it came to religion, but I could never fit into the box. The box was square-shaped, and I was unicorn shaped. There was no way I was fitting no matter how much I contorter myself. I felt no love towards or from religion or church.
My church has no walls. It is sky and sun and green.
That’s such a powerful image, Sam—that you were told you had to fit into a square-shaped box but yours was shaped like a unicorn! Yes!
I honestly believe our relationship with religion is so deeply personal. What you shared here means a lot to me. It’s honest. It’s real. It’s true. And I am grateful you chose this space to put it out there.
What I want is for these conversations to be happening more, for this type of honesty. I don’t have answers. I don’t think all of us should feel or believe a certain sort of way. It’s different for everyone. I deeply respect those who walk totally away from organized religion, as well as for those who stay.
Sending you love today, Sam. XO Thanks for being here.
Your essay beautifully articulates the evolution of faith, moving from rigid "containers" to something more expansive and personal. It’s a powerful metaphor, isn't it? Those old containers felt safe, like a cocoon, but eventually, true growth demands we shed that skin, even if it feels like a death. I loved your spiritual director Mary Sharon Moore's wisdom: "Good. It’s good you feel like you’re losing your faith, because that means you are outgrowing the old containers that restricted your faith from becoming something beyond definition."
This perspective offers such a refreshing take on what it means to "lose faith." It redefines it not as a failure or a departure, but as a necessary shedding, a metamorphosis. It’s a brave and vulnerable act to allow your faith to take "different forms and to expand outside the dogmatic boxes." This isn’t about abandoning belief, but about allowing it to breathe, grow, and align more authentically with one’s lived experience. It's a journey many are on, quietly seeking that authentic space.
Yes, Alex, I had never before considered that “losing faith” was not a form of failure but instead a form of growth, until Mary Sharon told me that! It was such a relief to hear, and so clarifying to me. I will never forget it.
I’ve had a lot of terrible experiences as a Catholic, and I’ve had a lot of really life-changing ones, like this, too.
It seems to me that these conversations are opening the doors to our hearts, allowing us to question, stretch, investigate, explore. What I’m seeing in this space is that we are sharing our own stories about religion and faith, and we are also listening to and supporting other people’s journeys. I think that’s essential, and it’s what I aspire to do in my Substack space. :)
The title of your essay also sums up my lived experience. It's overwhelming for me to unpack it here in this moment. I came into this world being raised by grandparents who were Jehovah's Witnesses, and then when my mom married my dad, I became Catholic. And now I'm what you would call a lapsed Catholic. I've never lost my faith in God. I lost my faith in the people and institutions that claim to represent God.
I hear that, Doreen. God is bigger than our institutions. I talk often with a close friend of mine who is a Catholic priest, Fr. Steve, about this concern. He is battling the institutional church and feels often that he cannot truly be the shepherd he wants to be, due to his hands being tied by the politics coming from church hierarchy. There’s a lot to discuss about institutional church. I do see some good and brave people going rogue to do their best to reform the churches from within, and I respect those who choose to leave and those who choose to stay. I chose to stay, but it is hard.
Thank you for your honesty, Jeannie. I am sorry for all the hurt you have walked through. This question you posed is eerily similar to one I posed- but to God in prayer, when I was attending a Pentecostal mega church at the time: “Why does it seem like the church I love doesn’t love me? I feel like I’m losing my faith.” But I asked God: "Why did you make me to repel Your Body?"
In reading the stories of saints, I find similar stories unfolding: they each carried reform into the Church, for which many during their lifetime were not treated kindly by those around them. My favorite story growing up was ironically of Gladys Aylward who almost all believes around her rejected (too short, too sick, a woman, not theologically trained enough).
She decided to listen to God's Voice, packed up and moved to China - ending up saving hundreds of orphans from a sure death. When I read that as a little girl my heart leapt. Now, all these years later I better understand, in a smaller way, what incredible pain she had to walk through to get to the other side - to let go of all she knew to embrace the God who knew her inside and out.
Trusting God to keep leading us in His Way for us. BTW I entered the Catholic Church this January, but am still wrestling with much- but noticing how that wrestling is blessing me, changing and transforming me, as I come to know more and more of God's heart inside of me. Learning daily. It's a humbling journey.
Hi Anna, keep wrestling. If you ever want a great spiritual director, let me know, and I’m happy to connect you with mine. Her name is Mary Sharon Moore, and she has walked with me through many difficult spiritual changes and challenges for the last ten years.
I do believe when we allow ourselves to be, feel, question, ask, think, and show up exactly as we are to God, that’s when faith becomes real. It’s when we try to conceal the truth of our thoughts/feelings/decisions that religion becomes a cage.
I learned a lot of this when I was a grief author/speaker and traveled nationwide. Listening to stories of people with deep faith whose pain was so raw that they questioned everything—why suffering existed, if a good God would allow suffering, if it was wrong of them to wonder if God existed at all, etc.—and that’s what really got me thinking about how important it is for us to be real with God above all.
To me, growing in faith is all about right relationship. It sounds to me like you are doing this, Anna. Thanks so much for being here!
Thank you for the recommendation, Jeannie and your encouragement. I can't afford it right now, but a very humble priest at my church has been and is a sweet gift in my wrestling.
How precious to have had so many priceless conversations with those who were grieving deeply. I too have been gifted such precious conversations- but then with two elderly Prodigals over a longer period of time, until they went to be with Jesus. The sweet thing was that as I listened to their stories and affirmed God's beautiful heart in them, God was healing me and affirming His beautiful heart in me. Oh how we laughed and cried and laughed together.
11 years ago I was a Prodigal of more than 20 years (a pastor's/ missionary kid), believing God to have abandoned me and a loved one of mine in really abusive and traumatic circumstances as children- until the Holy Spirit descended upon me, when my Mum was given but 3 months to live. Since then, God has been showing me who He truly is and teaching me to be real with Him over and over again- to get angry, to confess my doubts, unbelief and confusion. He is so gentle, so patient and so merciful, ever reminding me that He never ever leaves or forskes us, His children.
I have to say, Anna, that what you wrote here reminded me of a conversation I had with an aesthetician who gave me a facial for my birthday a couple of years ago. She was telling me a bit about her sketchy past and said, “I think those of us who have been the Prodigal know and believe in mercy more than anyone else does.”
I thought about that, because when a person hasn’t really been in the pits or the gutter in some way, they haven’t experienced the humiliation of being “less than” human in a societal viewpoint, and therefore, it’s harder to truly embrace the concept of mercy.
When we learn to humble ourselves and identify with the “lowest” among us—the outcasts, the disenfranchised, the poor, the uneducated, etc. etc.—we know how to become mercy to everyone we meet. (And I put “lowest” in quotes, because it’s not my personal belief but a societal standpoint.)
Hmm yeah. God is good at that humbling. And I am so so grateful. I now walk up to people in the past I neverwould have - recognizing myself in them.
I asked for that humbling as an 11 year old without realizing it. My deepest desire was to know God's grace- seeing it reflected in an adult who had suffered so so much. She wanted what I had for her kids (safety, in church) - I wanted what I saw in her: a deep down knowing of Jesus and His grace, that I knew I didn't have.
Thank you for listening, Jeannie. Sharing things has been useful to expose the pride in my heart. In reflecting some more, I realized it has not been my past experiences that have made me draw near to others I never would have in the past, but the Holy Spirit's convictions. While my past experiences definitely help me once I draw near to come with a heart of compassion, the initial contact and the softening of my heart has always come in the Holy Spirit's promptings to change my mind and stop being afraid (a fear born of my human judgment and looking).
And I realized also that that cry of my heart- "Why did you make me to repel Your Body?" was in fact exposing my repelling of His Body. In others' judgment and unkindness to me, He was inviting me to join Him at the Cross and extend mercy and kindness- something He led me to do 7 years later, as He led me to return to my church for one Sunday to receive His forgiveness and extend it. I went in absolute peace which was astounding as I was filled with fear when I attended that church previously. After that day of mercy, the door opened to the Catholic Church to me- after 7 years of having no church and God having kept the door firmly shut.
Beautiful Jeannie. Thank you for this luminous offering. Though I wasn’t raised within religious orthodoxy, I grew up inside a different kind of faith—one rooted in self-improvement, manifestation, and a New Age belief that if I just aligned myself right, I could bypass uncertainty. It was its own kind of dogma. For decades, I reached for tools and teachings that promised clarity, mastery, and transcendence. Like you, I’ve come to trust that the Divine often shows up in the not-knowing, in the loosened grip, in the moment we stop trying to define God and start experiencing love. Mystery, after all, is not the absence of meaning—but the womb of it.
This is so interesting, Kimberly. Not many people have said what you shared here, about how New Age belief can be a sort of dogma in itself. It’s interesting, because after I read Dr. Laura Anderson’s book about religious trauma, I learned from her that fundamentalism can exist anywhere—including within atheism! That got me thinking about it in a new way, like, wait a minute! Fundamentalism isn’t exclusive to Christianity. It’s more about a rigid worldview than it is about a particular religion. And that, I think, has caused a tremendous amount of serious wounds for countless people—the aspect of fundamentalism in their lives, however it was presented to them.
It’s beautiful to read here that you have developed your own spirituality about trusting the Divine within the mysteries of life. I think that’s what really got me outside of the doctrinal box: considering God-as-Mystery and knowing that I would never fully know God.
Your last line is breathtaking, too! I think the concept of the womb is so powerful. Have you read the book Theology of the Womb by Dr. Christy Bauman? What you wrote here reminded me of her book.
Great conversation! Thanks so much for stopping by.
While I still hold God in my heart, I’ve learned that I don’t need to show up to some building every Sunday to prove that. We weren’t too quick to baptize our oldest and were finally pretty much bullied into it by the time she was three and while there are still some people who want us to baptize our youngest, now that my mom is no longer here to harass us, we’re just going to leave it. I had always wanted to be a mother, I just knew there was no way I was going to do it like it was done to me.
I hear you, Stephanie. It frustrates me that there is this guilt-tripping in many denominations about things like baptism. My husband Ben and I used to teach the baptism class at our old church. We had to watch this horrific video that was ancient and outdated and boring, then play the exact same video to young couples who decided to baptize their babies/toddlers in the Catholic Church. It felt…off to me. Like we were missing the entire conversational piece, though Ben and I did try to incorporate conversation into the sessions, asking couples why they wanted to baptize. Many said, “I don’t know. Because my mom/dad told me to do it.” It’s a huge decision, and no one should be strong-armed into it.
To me, if something doesn’t point to relationship, then it’s missing the point.
I always liked how some denominations liked to have the kids wait to decide for themselves if they were ready for this type of spiritual commitment instead of forcing it right from birth.
I hear you, Stephanie. I understand why parents would choose this for their babies, though, too. I can see both sides, really. It has to be a conscious choice at some point in life, though.
If I was stronger in my Catholic faith there would’ve been no wait on baptizing my girls and had actually planned on getting my youngest done right away but when you had a baby in 2020, NOTHING went according to plan!
OMG, I hear you, Stephanie! Our youngest, Auggie, was born 3/12/2020! It was such a weird time to have a baby, especially as a Catholic. We ended up having a private baptism for him, which also felt weird during that time.
My youngest was a big surprise so my girls are 8 years apart and family had planned to throw a blowout shower because while we still had some of the big stuff, we had NONE of the small stuff you need right off the bat but everything got shut down so instead they gave us a good amount of money to get us back up.
Thank you. It was completely unexpected. He and my mom had been hanging out with my oldest the day before and that day he told her he was going to lay down because he wasn’t feeling too well and when she went to check on him later, he was on the floor unresponsive. He had just turned 69 about 2 weeks before.
Oh, wow, Stephanie, how painful. I felt that pain when I read what you wrote here. The shock of an unexpected death, especially in the midst of an otherwise ordinary day and conversation, is like the rug being ripped out from underneath a person. Here, then gone. I am reminded of something Joan Didion wrote in THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING: “Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.”
I relate hard to this as a lapsed Catholic. You've given me pause to consider how spirituality can shift and change over time and doesn't need to be a hard rejection. Thanks, as always, for your wisdom, Jeannie.
Oh wow, Julie, I didn’t realize that! It’s really incredible to learn more about the people I’ve gotten to know through the Substack space. I love everything about these conversations, especially when people share things they wouldn’t normally feel comfortable or safe doing so. I want everyone’s lived experience to be welcome and honored here in my space. :) Thanks for sticking with me so long!
Yes we have much in common 😝 Fun to discover through this space. I had a similar postpartum experience, and a chapter in my book is about "losing" my religion.
I’m really looking forward to your book, Julie!
I'm really looking forward to your thoughts on it 🥰
If there’s enough overlap in our stories, Julie, maybe you might be willing to endorse/blurb my memoir IF ANYONE OUT THERE WILL TAKE IT!? :)
Of course 🤞🤞🤞
I'm glad you were able to find someone that helped you grow your faith in a way that made more sense to you.
My dad was that person for me. Although we, my siblings and I were raised in a Methodist church--which was my mother's religion--my dad was raised as a Quaker.
We were taught, by him to question every aspect of the faith lessons we were learning in Sunday school and to question what fit for us right now and what didn't.
All throughout the rest of his life, his message remind the same spirituality is meant to grow with us, to stretch us as human beings to be better people.
There is more to spiritual growth than our religious beliefs and values.
I love that your dad taught you to be open-minded and curious, Nancy. Most of us were taught to never question the religious constructs within which we were raised. That’s such a gift he imparted to you.
I’ve never heard anyone describe this feeling of profound disillusionment better than you did here, Jeannie. Although I was not born into the Catholic faith, I felt a calling in early adulthood and became a candidate for the ministry in my own Protestant faith. I was so sure this was it. But one day I had a spiritual awakening and, when I realised that God didn’t live in a building, and that His role in my life was not even close to the direction in which I was heading, I had to leave that path. Although I wasn’t sure where I was going, I came to believe that the journey and how I live it is the answer for me. My faith is strong and I have developed resilience. One of my most respected teachers on this journey has said that my spiritual gift is fortitude, and I feel humbled by that, as well as by my newfound connection with fellow travellers. Thank you for being in my spiritual life, Jeannie.
I love reading this about your journey, Heather. Some of the most mature and deeply spiritual people I have met are those brave enough to walk outside of church walls and institutions in order to allow their faith to become bigger than the containers into which they were told everything had to fit.
I have to say, that’s been a really hard thing for me. I still grapple with it. I still carry a lot of guilt and shame, like, what if I’m a “bad” Catholic? It’s deeply ingrained in some of us, this concept of right/wrong and sin/holiness, and I’m not saying I don’t believe in these things. I’m saying that, as you said here, faith is bigger than the buildings and doctrines we restrict God to.
So grateful you are here!
Oh Jeannie. This one line "Instead, it seems to me that the way organized religion is presented to a person can be either harmful or healthy..." This may be the distinction I've been searching for. That the harmful of organized religion is when it is presented as the only way, the only right, the only salvation. When it is presented as a way to create lines, boundaries, boxes so that there is an "us" and a "them". Because who among us has not felt like a "them" in their own house of worship? It is, as you always say, when we lead with love that the invitation feels as such. Instead of like a commandment.
Yes, Jess, I hear this so deeply! So many of us were, sadly, raised to believe that there was only one way—the “right” way—and religion became weaponized to shame and control us. It’s so sad to me, because I truly don’t think that religion in itself is the culprit. It’s the way it is manipulated by those in positions of power. And I can also see more clearly how those who are predisposed to certain psychological ailments latch on to the rigidity of religious tenets, because they can leverage these in order to justify abuse, shame, control, etc.
These conversations really fuel me. I’m so grateful for your comment and for your friendship!
This. Yes.
“ It’s good you feel like you’re losing your faith, because that means you are outgrowing the old containers that restricted your faith from becoming something beyond definition. When your faith stretches outside these boxes, it feels like a type of death, because it is.”
I admire those who are losing and have lost their faith and are leaning into that as a way to shed an old skin and find a new awareness! It’s painful and it’s real!
It is! It was such a gift from Mary Sharon to hear this, Teri Leigh. I needed it. Such healing words. Almost like a permission I never got from my family of origin.
Hi Jeannie,
I was raised in a pretty conservative Missouri Synod Lutheran Church. We went to church every Sunday. My mom was all in on women's lib, though, and she wasn't afraid to voice opinions that were controversial back then on that, or any other issue. It makes me chuckle remembering her best friend was the minister's wife. Great discussions were had at our house!
After cancer, not mine but my mother’s, my faith wavered. I haven't been to church since. Long story.
I appreciate your take that it's not organized religion that's off but the way it's sometimes presented. And that we can question, even lose faith, but still have faith, too. It's complicated alright.
These days I'm disappointed in people who claim to be Christian but yet treat the poor, immigrants, the LGBT community, and even women with such judgmental attitudes. I don't mean to get political on your site, but folks that base their vote on one issue drive me a little crazy too.
I appreciate your willingness to start this discussion. Religion is a tricky one, that's for sure. But one thing we can all do a better of is listening to one another. Thanks for doing that through your writings and discussions.
Nancy, that was incredibly brave of your mom to voice her views when she was in such a conservative atmosphere. I once worked for a Missouri Synod Lutheran church, when I was in graduate school. They called me “The Roman,” because I was, of course, the only Catholic there.
I hear you about people who vote on one issue and Christians who claim to love and follow God but do not enfold the disenfranchised within their orbit of “community.” Church can mean a lot of things, not least of which is within an institution. I think many people choose institutional church, because it is safe to be part of something to which you feel you belong, even if belonging isn’t true belonging, but is instead a form of fitting in.
True belonging, of course, means that one can be oneself and accepted and celebrated as that person without being shunned or shamed.
I have to say, I was so proud of our pastor about a month ago. He gave a homily/sermon about how diversity within the church is good, and it’s important for each of us to realize that sometimes we get caught up with the wrong things, like whether or not the choir sings well enough or we have the “right” equipment for music, or the pastor preaches well enough. Instead, he said, what about embracing all of the different perspectives and acknowledging that some of these are preferences and not a make-or-break issue? What about looking outside of our synagogues and sanctuaries and seeking out relationships with the very people we are most unlike? I appreciated that so much.
This piece took my breath away. Thank you Jeannie, it's so healing.
Wow, so grateful to hear that, Stephanie. I didn’t realize it might be healing for someone else. Thanks for telling me.
Oh, how I relate to everything you say here Jeannie! What we think makes us perfect mothers... the pressure. How ridiculous (and harmful!) it is! I loved what Mary Sharon told you! So wise. And I'm glad you are here to share your wisdom with us!
I loved your voice message, friend! XO I think you and I could talk about this subject for a long, long time.
You continue to amaze me. As someone who grew up Catholic, (then Lutheran and non-denominational and briefly/accidentally Wesleyan) I understand why you wouldn't have wanted to write this. But I'm glad you did.
I have a lot of thoughts on religion... I can't say anything positive there. So I probably won't say anything.
What I can say is that I felt like I was always trying to fit into a box when it came to religion, but I could never fit into the box. The box was square-shaped, and I was unicorn shaped. There was no way I was fitting no matter how much I contorter myself. I felt no love towards or from religion or church.
My church has no walls. It is sky and sun and green.
That’s such a powerful image, Sam—that you were told you had to fit into a square-shaped box but yours was shaped like a unicorn! Yes!
I honestly believe our relationship with religion is so deeply personal. What you shared here means a lot to me. It’s honest. It’s real. It’s true. And I am grateful you chose this space to put it out there.
What I want is for these conversations to be happening more, for this type of honesty. I don’t have answers. I don’t think all of us should feel or believe a certain sort of way. It’s different for everyone. I deeply respect those who walk totally away from organized religion, as well as for those who stay.
Sending you love today, Sam. XO Thanks for being here.
Appreciate you ☺️
I appreciate you, too, Sam! XO
That final paragraph just says it all. Beautiful, Jeannie! 🙏💚
Thanks, Don! :)
Your essay beautifully articulates the evolution of faith, moving from rigid "containers" to something more expansive and personal. It’s a powerful metaphor, isn't it? Those old containers felt safe, like a cocoon, but eventually, true growth demands we shed that skin, even if it feels like a death. I loved your spiritual director Mary Sharon Moore's wisdom: "Good. It’s good you feel like you’re losing your faith, because that means you are outgrowing the old containers that restricted your faith from becoming something beyond definition."
This perspective offers such a refreshing take on what it means to "lose faith." It redefines it not as a failure or a departure, but as a necessary shedding, a metamorphosis. It’s a brave and vulnerable act to allow your faith to take "different forms and to expand outside the dogmatic boxes." This isn’t about abandoning belief, but about allowing it to breathe, grow, and align more authentically with one’s lived experience. It's a journey many are on, quietly seeking that authentic space.
Yes, Alex, I had never before considered that “losing faith” was not a form of failure but instead a form of growth, until Mary Sharon told me that! It was such a relief to hear, and so clarifying to me. I will never forget it.
I’ve had a lot of terrible experiences as a Catholic, and I’ve had a lot of really life-changing ones, like this, too.
It seems to me that these conversations are opening the doors to our hearts, allowing us to question, stretch, investigate, explore. What I’m seeing in this space is that we are sharing our own stories about religion and faith, and we are also listening to and supporting other people’s journeys. I think that’s essential, and it’s what I aspire to do in my Substack space. :)
The title of your essay also sums up my lived experience. It's overwhelming for me to unpack it here in this moment. I came into this world being raised by grandparents who were Jehovah's Witnesses, and then when my mom married my dad, I became Catholic. And now I'm what you would call a lapsed Catholic. I've never lost my faith in God. I lost my faith in the people and institutions that claim to represent God.
I hear that, Doreen. God is bigger than our institutions. I talk often with a close friend of mine who is a Catholic priest, Fr. Steve, about this concern. He is battling the institutional church and feels often that he cannot truly be the shepherd he wants to be, due to his hands being tied by the politics coming from church hierarchy. There’s a lot to discuss about institutional church. I do see some good and brave people going rogue to do their best to reform the churches from within, and I respect those who choose to leave and those who choose to stay. I chose to stay, but it is hard.
Thank you for your honesty, Jeannie. I am sorry for all the hurt you have walked through. This question you posed is eerily similar to one I posed- but to God in prayer, when I was attending a Pentecostal mega church at the time: “Why does it seem like the church I love doesn’t love me? I feel like I’m losing my faith.” But I asked God: "Why did you make me to repel Your Body?"
In reading the stories of saints, I find similar stories unfolding: they each carried reform into the Church, for which many during their lifetime were not treated kindly by those around them. My favorite story growing up was ironically of Gladys Aylward who almost all believes around her rejected (too short, too sick, a woman, not theologically trained enough).
She decided to listen to God's Voice, packed up and moved to China - ending up saving hundreds of orphans from a sure death. When I read that as a little girl my heart leapt. Now, all these years later I better understand, in a smaller way, what incredible pain she had to walk through to get to the other side - to let go of all she knew to embrace the God who knew her inside and out.
Trusting God to keep leading us in His Way for us. BTW I entered the Catholic Church this January, but am still wrestling with much- but noticing how that wrestling is blessing me, changing and transforming me, as I come to know more and more of God's heart inside of me. Learning daily. It's a humbling journey.
Hi Anna, keep wrestling. If you ever want a great spiritual director, let me know, and I’m happy to connect you with mine. Her name is Mary Sharon Moore, and she has walked with me through many difficult spiritual changes and challenges for the last ten years.
I do believe when we allow ourselves to be, feel, question, ask, think, and show up exactly as we are to God, that’s when faith becomes real. It’s when we try to conceal the truth of our thoughts/feelings/decisions that religion becomes a cage.
I learned a lot of this when I was a grief author/speaker and traveled nationwide. Listening to stories of people with deep faith whose pain was so raw that they questioned everything—why suffering existed, if a good God would allow suffering, if it was wrong of them to wonder if God existed at all, etc.—and that’s what really got me thinking about how important it is for us to be real with God above all.
To me, growing in faith is all about right relationship. It sounds to me like you are doing this, Anna. Thanks so much for being here!
Thank you for the recommendation, Jeannie and your encouragement. I can't afford it right now, but a very humble priest at my church has been and is a sweet gift in my wrestling.
How precious to have had so many priceless conversations with those who were grieving deeply. I too have been gifted such precious conversations- but then with two elderly Prodigals over a longer period of time, until they went to be with Jesus. The sweet thing was that as I listened to their stories and affirmed God's beautiful heart in them, God was healing me and affirming His beautiful heart in me. Oh how we laughed and cried and laughed together.
11 years ago I was a Prodigal of more than 20 years (a pastor's/ missionary kid), believing God to have abandoned me and a loved one of mine in really abusive and traumatic circumstances as children- until the Holy Spirit descended upon me, when my Mum was given but 3 months to live. Since then, God has been showing me who He truly is and teaching me to be real with Him over and over again- to get angry, to confess my doubts, unbelief and confusion. He is so gentle, so patient and so merciful, ever reminding me that He never ever leaves or forskes us, His children.
I have to say, Anna, that what you wrote here reminded me of a conversation I had with an aesthetician who gave me a facial for my birthday a couple of years ago. She was telling me a bit about her sketchy past and said, “I think those of us who have been the Prodigal know and believe in mercy more than anyone else does.”
I thought about that, because when a person hasn’t really been in the pits or the gutter in some way, they haven’t experienced the humiliation of being “less than” human in a societal viewpoint, and therefore, it’s harder to truly embrace the concept of mercy.
When we learn to humble ourselves and identify with the “lowest” among us—the outcasts, the disenfranchised, the poor, the uneducated, etc. etc.—we know how to become mercy to everyone we meet. (And I put “lowest” in quotes, because it’s not my personal belief but a societal standpoint.)
Hmm yeah. God is good at that humbling. And I am so so grateful. I now walk up to people in the past I neverwould have - recognizing myself in them.
I asked for that humbling as an 11 year old without realizing it. My deepest desire was to know God's grace- seeing it reflected in an adult who had suffered so so much. She wanted what I had for her kids (safety, in church) - I wanted what I saw in her: a deep down knowing of Jesus and His grace, that I knew I didn't have.
This is really a beautiful testimony, Anna. Thanks for sharing so much of your heart here.
Thank you for listening, Jeannie. Sharing things has been useful to expose the pride in my heart. In reflecting some more, I realized it has not been my past experiences that have made me draw near to others I never would have in the past, but the Holy Spirit's convictions. While my past experiences definitely help me once I draw near to come with a heart of compassion, the initial contact and the softening of my heart has always come in the Holy Spirit's promptings to change my mind and stop being afraid (a fear born of my human judgment and looking).
And I realized also that that cry of my heart- "Why did you make me to repel Your Body?" was in fact exposing my repelling of His Body. In others' judgment and unkindness to me, He was inviting me to join Him at the Cross and extend mercy and kindness- something He led me to do 7 years later, as He led me to return to my church for one Sunday to receive His forgiveness and extend it. I went in absolute peace which was astounding as I was filled with fear when I attended that church previously. After that day of mercy, the door opened to the Catholic Church to me- after 7 years of having no church and God having kept the door firmly shut.
Beautiful Jeannie. Thank you for this luminous offering. Though I wasn’t raised within religious orthodoxy, I grew up inside a different kind of faith—one rooted in self-improvement, manifestation, and a New Age belief that if I just aligned myself right, I could bypass uncertainty. It was its own kind of dogma. For decades, I reached for tools and teachings that promised clarity, mastery, and transcendence. Like you, I’ve come to trust that the Divine often shows up in the not-knowing, in the loosened grip, in the moment we stop trying to define God and start experiencing love. Mystery, after all, is not the absence of meaning—but the womb of it.
This is so interesting, Kimberly. Not many people have said what you shared here, about how New Age belief can be a sort of dogma in itself. It’s interesting, because after I read Dr. Laura Anderson’s book about religious trauma, I learned from her that fundamentalism can exist anywhere—including within atheism! That got me thinking about it in a new way, like, wait a minute! Fundamentalism isn’t exclusive to Christianity. It’s more about a rigid worldview than it is about a particular religion. And that, I think, has caused a tremendous amount of serious wounds for countless people—the aspect of fundamentalism in their lives, however it was presented to them.
It’s beautiful to read here that you have developed your own spirituality about trusting the Divine within the mysteries of life. I think that’s what really got me outside of the doctrinal box: considering God-as-Mystery and knowing that I would never fully know God.
Your last line is breathtaking, too! I think the concept of the womb is so powerful. Have you read the book Theology of the Womb by Dr. Christy Bauman? What you wrote here reminded me of her book.
Great conversation! Thanks so much for stopping by.
While I still hold God in my heart, I’ve learned that I don’t need to show up to some building every Sunday to prove that. We weren’t too quick to baptize our oldest and were finally pretty much bullied into it by the time she was three and while there are still some people who want us to baptize our youngest, now that my mom is no longer here to harass us, we’re just going to leave it. I had always wanted to be a mother, I just knew there was no way I was going to do it like it was done to me.
I hear you, Stephanie. It frustrates me that there is this guilt-tripping in many denominations about things like baptism. My husband Ben and I used to teach the baptism class at our old church. We had to watch this horrific video that was ancient and outdated and boring, then play the exact same video to young couples who decided to baptize their babies/toddlers in the Catholic Church. It felt…off to me. Like we were missing the entire conversational piece, though Ben and I did try to incorporate conversation into the sessions, asking couples why they wanted to baptize. Many said, “I don’t know. Because my mom/dad told me to do it.” It’s a huge decision, and no one should be strong-armed into it.
To me, if something doesn’t point to relationship, then it’s missing the point.
I always liked how some denominations liked to have the kids wait to decide for themselves if they were ready for this type of spiritual commitment instead of forcing it right from birth.
I hear you, Stephanie. I understand why parents would choose this for their babies, though, too. I can see both sides, really. It has to be a conscious choice at some point in life, though.
If I was stronger in my Catholic faith there would’ve been no wait on baptizing my girls and had actually planned on getting my youngest done right away but when you had a baby in 2020, NOTHING went according to plan!
OMG, I hear you, Stephanie! Our youngest, Auggie, was born 3/12/2020! It was such a weird time to have a baby, especially as a Catholic. We ended up having a private baptism for him, which also felt weird during that time.
My youngest was a big surprise so my girls are 8 years apart and family had planned to throw a blowout shower because while we still had some of the big stuff, we had NONE of the small stuff you need right off the bat but everything got shut down so instead they gave us a good amount of money to get us back up.
Thank you. It was completely unexpected. He and my mom had been hanging out with my oldest the day before and that day he told her he was going to lay down because he wasn’t feeling too well and when she went to check on him later, he was on the floor unresponsive. He had just turned 69 about 2 weeks before.
Oh, wow, Stephanie, how painful. I felt that pain when I read what you wrote here. The shock of an unexpected death, especially in the midst of an otherwise ordinary day and conversation, is like the rug being ripped out from underneath a person. Here, then gone. I am reminded of something Joan Didion wrote in THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING: “Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.”
I got the call that afternoon and I don’t think I’ve really recovered 5 years later. ☹️
Maybe you never will, Stephanie. That's love. ❤️
I love this series of essays, Jeannie. So much of what you describe resonates. Thank you.
Grateful to hear that, Maria. Glad you are here.