Living most of my life in an evangelical/conservative Christian environment has influenced my life in many positive ways. However, there are some things that I have lost, some ways of knowing that I have missed, some misconceptions I have nurtured. One way in which I have been malformed is the way I tend to categorize people and experiences/activities.  Some are definitely "in," and some are "out." Or to put it another way, I see people according to their buy-in to the particular brand of believing that I have suckled. I measure people by their devotion to my criteria for interpreting God. My thinking is gradually changing in this regard, but it is deeply ingrained in my psyche. Barbara Brown Taylor, in her compelling, "An Altar in the World," writes of the practice of encountering others in chapter six. She reminds the reader that the second great commandment after, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, soul, mind, and strength," is the command to "love your neighbor as yourself." Taylor begins the chapter discussing the Desert Fathers and their quest for community "to save them from the temptation of believing in their own self-sufficiency" (90). She further contends that "most of us need someone to help us forget ourselves, a little or a lot. The great wisdom traditions of the world all recognize that the main impediment to living a life of meaning is being self-absorbed" (91). Without community, the teachings of our religion lack flesh. But this loving my neighbor command is difficult to do. Indeed, it is a spiritual discipline. And while loving my neighbor who is like me can be a challenge, loving my neighbor who is different from me requires me to turn my back on self-absorption, what Taylor calls the "prison of yourself" (93).  She posits an intriguing question: "...who could be better equipped to pop the locks on our prisons than people in whom we see nothing of ourselves?" (94). Wow! This is profound, I think. It makes me remember Henry Nouwen who spent the last years of his life living with and ministering to individuals with developmental disabilities. This has always struck me as an incredible sacrifice considering his intellectual and academic background and experiences. It challenges my thinking. Combining thoughts of Nouwen's life choices along with Taylor's musings have brought some percolating thoughts to rise to the edges of my consciousness. Could my life circumstances actually be an altar in the world, one in which I have regular encounters with souls so different from me? an altar of self-sacrifice, of the lavish grace of God, of a dying to self? I think so. And I want to remember this during those times when fear grabs me by the throat as I wonder about the future of those same souls who are so dependent on me.

Additionally, I tend to regard behaviors and activities in terms of things that please God (going to church, praying, helping people, etc.) and things that please me (hiking in the woods, walking on a beach, reading, kayaking, engaging in deep conversation with a friend, eating good food, etc.). The realization that these categories really do not (or should not) exist is beginning to seep into my soul in a more profound way. I have long believed in a corner of my brain that there is no difference between the sacred and the secular, but at some deep level, that professed belief collides with actual belief. But that is just a part of who I am. At my core being, I am someone different than who I was schooled to be. I recognize the Divine and experience the wonder of worship in unlikely places. And I pray for God's mercy even on those who have not professed the same version of the gospel that I profess. I firmly believe the creeds that mark my faith, but I increasingly realize that there are many things I don't know and ways of understanding truth that I have never considered. This includes recognizing the beauty and value of people who don't believe as I believe. Taylor quotes Miroslav Volf as saying that "it may not be too much to claim that the future of our world will depend on how we deal with identity and difference" (99). Taylor asserts that as citizens of a nation with an increasingly diverse religious landscape, we should pay attention to what Volf says. She further contends that "as children of the covenant and inheritors of the gospel, we might also understand that we have the resources to do so" (99). That gives me the shivers. Another altar in the world.