I was at a wedding reception when someone came up to me and said, “I’m not religious, but I really felt there was definitely something going on in the service today...” It is a conversation I have a lot at gatherings after weddings, baptisms and funerals and it usually starts with, “I’m not religious, but…” In reply I usually say something like, “That’s interesting, because I’m not religious either.” This usually gets a puzzled look and I explain that I have faith in God, but I don’t equate that with being “religious.”Words can have very different meanings for people. To many people who don’t regularly attend church services (or the worship gatherings of other faiths) the whole thing of church buildings, Sunday services, church symbols/rituals, faith, etc is all wrapped up in the word “religion.” I think my aversion for using the word “religion” comes from the connotations it used to have for me. I didn’t grow up in a churchgoing family and didn’t attend a church school. I remember thinking that church and church services were more than a little bizarre, and were completely irrelevant in todays world. As a young atheist studying engineering and having a love of science, religion belonged in the past; church was a club for people that wanted to believe that sort of thing and “religion” was not for me. Then I had an “I’m not religious, but…” moment. It wasn’t in a church service, but was when I read a book, “The Cross and the Switchblade”, which told the true story of a country pastor, David Wilkerson, who in 1958 felt called to go and work among the street gangs of New York city. He went into places that the police refused to go and had a profound impact on the lives of the young gang members; helping them turn away from drugs and violence. This wasn’t a story about religion as I’d understood it. It was a story about a man of great faith, who should have been killed within minutes of setting foot in these areas, but something supernatural was at work through him to bring about massive change in the lives of the young people in those gangs. I realised there was a God who was at work through those that would work with him, and that he was building this dynamic movement that was bringing real hope and change in the world. I remember thinking that it would be great to be part of a movement like that, so I went to a local church to find out more. It was just as bizarre as I’d thought; standing up and sitting down at difference times, singing hymns, interminable prayers, strange robes on the priest, etc. So, I decided again that religion was not for me, however, I was still curious about my new discovery of God, and particularly in Jesus.
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I’m not “religious”
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I was at a wedding reception when someone came up to me and said, “I’m not religious, but I really felt there was definitely something going on in the service today...” It is a conversation I have a lot at gatherings after weddings, baptisms and funerals and it usually starts with, “I’m not religious, but…” In reply I usually say something like, “That’s interesting, because I’m not religious either.” This usually gets a puzzled look and I explain that I have faith in God, but I don’t equate that with being “religious.”Words can have very different meanings for people. To many people who don’t regularly attend church services (or the worship gatherings of other faiths) the whole thing of church buildings, Sunday services, church symbols/rituals, faith, etc is all wrapped up in the word “religion.” I think my aversion for using the word “religion” comes from the connotations it used to have for me. I didn’t grow up in a churchgoing family and didn’t attend a church school. I remember thinking that church and church services were more than a little bizarre, and were completely irrelevant in todays world. As a young atheist studying engineering and having a love of science, religion belonged in the past; church was a club for people that wanted to believe that sort of thing and “religion” was not for me. Then I had an “I’m not religious, but…” moment. It wasn’t in a church service, but was when I read a book, “The Cross and the Switchblade”, which told the true story of a country pastor, David Wilkerson, who in 1958 felt called to go and work among the street gangs of New York city. He went into places that the police refused to go and had a profound impact on the lives of the young gang members; helping them turn away from drugs and violence. This wasn’t a story about religion as I’d understood it. It was a story about a man of great faith, who should have been killed within minutes of setting foot in these areas, but something supernatural was at work through him to bring about massive change in the lives of the young people in those gangs. I realised there was a God who was at work through those that would work with him, and that he was building this dynamic movement that was bringing real hope and change in the world. I remember thinking that it would be great to be part of a movement like that, so I went to a local church to find out more. It was just as bizarre as I’d thought; standing up and sitting down at difference times, singing hymns, interminable prayers, strange robes on the priest, etc. So, I decided again that religion was not for me, however, I was still curious about my new discovery of God, and particularly in Jesus.