Well, let’s see. How do I tell the story of my journey in church and faith communities?
Give me grandma’s religion
We moved to the suburbs east of Portland in the late fifties. For a year or two, when I was four or five, we went to church, a Methodist church, Rockwood United Methodist Church. It was in our neighborhood and neighbors went there. My Grandma Schmotzer was a lifelong Methodist. I remember her saying, “Only Methodist democrats are getting into heaven.” When I was a teenager, she hinted that those who wore “blue jeans” might be on the outs of heaven too.
My parents were young, and my dad had not yet realized he did not have to go to church if he did not want to go to church. Mom liked church, she liked most anything with people and God. Johnny and I were christened, not baptized. Not sure what difference it made in spiritual, cosmic, or cultural realms.
By the time I was in the second grade we had quit going to church.
Church without going to church
While technically not going to church I went to an after-school Bible club that met in a neighbor’s basement. Flannel graph Bible stories, catchy songs with words on cardboard signs and fun motions, snacks, memory verses and prizes. And salvation. Every week we heard a different Bible story that ended with the same message. We were all terrible little sinners, Jesus loved us and died for us, we needed to confess our sins, ask Jesus into our hearts, and believe to be guaranteed an eternal home in heaven and freedom from burning in hell, burning in hell for all eternity (the real motivator).
I sang the songs, learned the verses, got prizes, ate snacks, grew anxious and fearful, and prayed the prayer over and over and over. Hoping it worked.
Mom finds that old time religion
When I was nine or ten my mom began taking us to Faith Baptist Church on 124th and Burnside. Notice I said mom took us, dad was done with church. While the Methodist Church had lofty ceilings, colorful windows, an organ, choir, and pastor in robes the Baptist Church was folksy, homey, plain. The pastor wore the same tired suit each week. The special music was rarely special. The “pews” were castoffs from an old movie theater. When I got bored, I would pick at the peeling fake leather on the seats.
Baptists were about believing the right things. The Bible told us what all those right things were. Unending energy was spent avoiding sin, worldly things; movies, dancing, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex outside of marriage… the list continued, but I will stop. My mom loved movies and dancing, so we never fully bought into that part of forbidden things.
You also had to “believe” the right things; that the bible was inspired and inerrant. That all the Bible was historically and scientifically accurate, resulting in things like seven-day creation, plagues in Egypt, Jonah being swallowed by a whale (or big fish, there was some give here), and the whole New Testament thing of Jesus being God and human, virgin birth, miracles, resurrection, and the Trinity (which is nowhere found in the Bible). All of it absolutely, fact.
Certainty is missing the point entirely. ― Anne Lamott
As Baptist’s we also believed that all other religions and most other so-called Christians were wrong and going to hell. We lived with the tension of talking so much about caring for all those lost sinners, while hiding a bit of smug pride at being the few insiders who got it all right.
In my later high school days, I went to work at a Baptist summer camp. Something I cannot explain happened that summer. An awakening or renewal. Was it deeply spiritual or an emotional teenage hormone surge? The experience fueled me for the coming years. I wanted to hold on to that something special. I wanted to live worthy of what I had “felt.” I was drawn more deeply into the teachings, beliefs, and practices of the Conservative Baptist movement. I continued in this world during my early college days.
Salem, peace
Connie and I got married in 1974 and started attending Salem Alliance Church. While not drastically different from the Baptists in its belief system, it seemed freer from the negative focus of our background. We were there for about five years, made friends, and volunteered.
Chasing the dream
In 1979 we moved to Bellingham to work at the Firs, a fundamentalist Christian organization deep into “the Battle for the Bible.” After a season of church shopping, we followed friends to Birchwood Presbyterian Church.
Big changes
Presbyterians were different. They drank wine at dinner. A few smoked without hiding it. You could swear, in socially respectful ways. Movies and dancing were all okay. People went to Vegas on vacation and did Vegas things.
The theology seemed more open. Women could be leaders, even pastors. There seemed to be a less strict adherence as to all scripture being literally true.
Birchwood became our church home. We became a family of four. In 1985 I joined the church staff. The church went through worship wars, bringing contemporary style music into our services. We went all in with the church growth movement and relocated, building larger, new facilities in a new part of town. Over my twelve years as a staff member the congregation steadily edged to a more conservative place while I was sliding the other way.
Bigger changes
In 1997 I moved (across town) to First Presbyterian Bellingham, to direct a college ministry.
The influence of working with young adult students, cultural shifts, getting involved with national ministry leaders, reading books, aging, death(s), music, film, life events, friends, the internet (must blame the internet) all contributed to my continuing to shift away from the beliefs and practices of my younger years.
With the coming of the 2000’s I left the label and many practices of evangelicalism behind. The name “Christian” became muddled. Over the next two decades, the depth of poverty of the religious right, Moral Majority, Christian nationalism, evangelicalism, and fundamentalism was laid bare.
After ten years in my campus ministry role, I realized I was becoming tired of the hype and show of contemporary services and church growth. I was intrigued by aspects of historic Christian traditions, Liberation Theology, the Emergent Church, Eastern Orthodoxy, higher church forms, progressive Christianity, as well as becoming open to the influences of other spiritual practices, world faiths and religions. Sexuality and gender issues had become a deal breaker. I needed to be in a place that was truly open, accepting, inclusive, and affirming. I had little interest in doctrine or scripture as absolute truth.
It’s much safer, in many congregations, to assure the faithful how our souls are saved through divine grace rather than to suggest that our societies are saved through personal and corporate aid to the poor. —Amy-Jill Levine
Connie was living her own journey toward more openness. Often, she was further down the road than me. Serendipitously we were able to keep finding common ground and have a shared sense of changing and growing together.
Getting out of Dodge
Eventually we left First Presbyterian. For the first time in over thirty years, I was moving beyond ministry as my occupation. In late 2011 or early 2012 we “lightly” attached to St. Paul’s Episcopal. It was in our neighborhood, open and affirming, and had no giant video screens in the worship space.
We took our time. Sat in the back. I was committed to avoiding getting formally involved.
We found a community that was welcoming, but not smothering.
We found a place that did not measure us by beliefs or doctrine.
Over the years we started to get involved. I enjoyed supporting the staff from behind the scenes. Eventually I did some teaching in adult ed programs. My big move last year was to be a part of the Search process in a Rector transition.
Guess I’ll post this on the door
Doctrine and beliefs have little draw for me these days. I find it hard to believe that any one religious body would have it all figured out. I, also, doubt that the source of life would only be revealed to a single people group, in one location and at one time.
Are there absolute truths of faith and theology? I have a lengthy list of things I no longer believe. By believe, I mean that I do not view these things as true, immutable. They may be true; I do not know and do not need to know. I can no longer focus on thinking I have “it” figured out and the rest of you finish last. Religions reflect diverse cultural attempts to understand and answer the big life questions. Some religious practices are helpful and some hurtful. What we choose to do with our beliefs and practices can make a difference.
Where am I today?
Church has almost always been a part of my life and so, like my family is always my family, church people are my people. I find a sense of community with church and will probably stay connected.
I sense mystery beyond what I can explain, understand, or need to understand. I have hopes, longings and other experiences that I can only describe as spiritual. And at this time in my life, that is all the explanation I need.
I'm not religious in the sense that I do not subscribe to any particular set of religious dogma. I don’t go to church. I don’t read the Bible. But I believe that the word "Spirit" with a capital S points to an ultimate reality which I give my heart to. — Fredrich Buechner
I keep seeking to learn, grow, and live each new day, in every breath, every relationship, and every situation. No matter how cliché it sounds, I do believe (so, yes, I believe something) scripture is on point with love one another, the greatest of these is love, and love your neighbor as yourself.
Throughout my life and church wanderings I have frequently heard that the source, sustenance, and essence is love. I can only hope this is true.
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painting by Pattison
Jim Schmotzer
9.15.23
wonderful! Thankful for your journey and your reflection upon it!
Thankful for you! ❤️❤️