Losing Our Religion

Over the past few months, I have come as near as I ever have to losing what was left of my religion. This pandemic is beginning to wear thin, and the recent election was thick with thieves full of all sorts of chicanery, negative ads and stonewalling the outcomes. Good news has come: we just might have a vaccine before we can say the Apostles’ Creed, and the voters have made their choice for a new President crystal clear. There is a God!

A lot of people have lost their religion over a lot of things, but have you ever considered what would happen if a minister lost his or her religion. When I worked at the preacher’s trade for so many years, I worried about losing it.  It is possible, you know. One minister I know confessed that he almost lost his during the ninth month of a six-month building project at his church!

When we moved within driving range of Pinehurst, all my friends who indulged in that holy game called golf would offer the next interrogatory sentence: “You do play golf, don’t you?” My comeback was always “I tried it once and almost lost my religion.  Without that I would be out of work.” But the worst possible scenario would be to lose your faith in church!  I came within a fraction of falling out with faith altogether in several of those ungodly church meetings.

I recall a conversation with an insurance agent in which I asked about the possibility of insuring ministers from the loss of their religion. Virtuoso pianist and violinist have their hands insured. Jimmy Durante had his nose insured. Why shouldn’t preachers have their religion insured since it has something to do with their livelihood as well as their vocational calling.

But why stop with just the professionals of the church? Why not offer insurance packages for those in the pew against that doomful day when everything falls apart. When there’s no reason for going on. When all is lost. When a pandemic comes along, and the church doors are locked.

Some will argue that religion is a kind of insurance. It’s a way to hedge your bets. “Let’s join a religion, just in case there is a god who can help us make it through this mess.” Others even consider it a form of everlasting life insurance: if we believe in the right religion, say the right things, follow the rules, we will be guaranteed a first-class ticket on the train bound for the sweet, bye and bye. And may the devil take the hindmost! I’ve known people who feel this way, and I almost lose my religion whenever I’m around them.

Maybe it’s a good thing to lose our religion. When you finally hear the Good News, you might discover that it draws the curtain on the whole charade of religion as we know it. The Gospel simply announces that all those things that the human race thought it had to do to get right with God — like believing, behaving, worshipping, sacrificing, and trusting God as hard as we can and saying so by putting that on our money — none of those things ever had a chance of doing the trick when our only purpose is to enjoy a God who loves us religiously and won’t lose us. Ever.