I am wandering, but I am alert and I still have hope.
I have spent most of my life trying to find faith and knowledge. Often the search for one seemed oppositional to the other, but I have come to the conclusion that it is not. Indeed, I now believe the two are so closely linked that one cannot be found without the fearful quest for the other. The balance between the questioning and the believing is always changing. It is a hidden path, surrounded by pitfalls. It is also the only way for me. I reject legalism and nihilism.
I am a believer. My spiritual journey has taken me from the fundamentalist approach of the Southern Baptist Preacher to the mystical writings of the Athonite Monastic. I am still learning how to be still enough to find God. Sometimes I think I hear parts of a whisper. I have tried to walk away from faith, but, despite ample disappointments in both myself and the Church, I have been unable to depart.
I am a teacher of middle school children, and this a joy and burden. History, my content area (which I very much enjoy), is filled with propaganda and opinion. I love the stories, but wonder what is true. I don’t want to lie, so I try to encourage mystery in the students, so they might go questing for clues. I want them to be able to hear the whisper, or maybe something more.
I am a family man. Had I been born into an Orthodox family, I would likely have become a monk, if any monastery would have had me. As it is, I have been blessed with a strong, loyal wife and four determined and creative boys. This life has its own sort of asceticism – breaking up legendary fights over nothing and sorting out justice for all, dirty diaper changes around the clock, and never ever sleeping in are just some of the rigors family life entails. Weariness and affection are entwined in the home and this is sacramental – it can lead us to our soul and it can lead us to God.
My writing is for me and for you. It is toil and offering. I am wrestling, with myself and the world and with God. And I am haunted by the parable of the talents, fearful that I’ve buried my meager portion in the ground. I’m trying to dig it up.
I am grateful for your visit - thank you.