Goodbye Tribal Religion, Hello Direct Faith
(Prologue of my Memoir “Leaving Religion, Finding Faith”)
The seminary building seems faintly familiar. Students drift between classrooms in a dreamlike state. Finally, someone stops and asks if I need help. I smile and say, “I’m okay,” but I feel out of place.
Then, a student glances at me and says, “Dr. Johnson? Didn’t you teach here at one time?”
I give her a strained smile and nod. Do I know her? It’s been years since I was last here. The start time for my new class is getting closer. I nervously check my watch every few seconds. I hate to be late. However, right now, I am going nowhere.
I notice a large room where the president and dean of the seminary and several elders from my evangelical church are seated at a conference table.
They beckon me in. As they speak, I sit on the opposite side of the table, but I am spooked. What do these people want? The chair is uncomfortable and hurts my back.
“Why are you here today?” the president begins, grim-faced. “Did you not get our letter informing you that we no longer want you to teach?”
“That can’t be true,” I say, puzzled. “I have tenure. You can’t terminate me without due process.” My blood pressure rises, and I clench my fists under the table. I’m angry and confused. I lean forward. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“It is no use trying to defend yourself,” he replies with an air of arrogance and spiritual authority. “You’ve gone wa-a-ay over the line. In fact, you’ve passed the point of no return!
Students report that you seek to experience God through your heart, and at the same time, you challenge some of our orthodox teachings.
For example, we were also told that you officiated a same-sex wedding. That is unacceptable.” He pauses to catch his breath and then, with gravitas, adds, “We find this tragic since a few years ago; you sat right here with us as a peer.”
Is this guy clueless? Doesn’t he know that millions of people, especially young people, are deserting evangelical churches and other orthodox religions? And for good reason!
My heart pounds, and I fight the urge to jump to my feet and shout, “Many church exiles don’t buy your dogma anymore, fool!” But I don’t have the courage. Sweat pours down my face, and I can’t catch my breath.
Just then, my eyes opened wide. Above me, I see the beams on the ceiling. I glance around, disoriented. The bedding lies disheveled on the floor, and my T-shirt is sweaty. I get out of bed and stagger to the kitchen.
As I steady myself against the back of a chair, I notice my ashen face in the mirror. I need a couple shots of caffeine.
“Damn,” I mutter, “that was thirty years ago. When will this end?”
I stand alone in the dark, empty kitchen, and this semi-nary nightmare continues to haunt me like a horror movie playing over and over.
Even after three decades, it still rocks my foundations, reminding me of the price I paid to leave the evangelical tribe.