I wasn’t always a Unity Minister. My past was just a tad more checkered than that.
June, 1966. Sitting in my 1960 Ford Fairlane out front of my parents’ home I paused before turning the key and driving off to college. There was one more thing I had to do as I left my parents, my hometown and so much of me behind. I had to leave God too.
I said “God, if you’re really there, you can’t be as angry and as bad as they’ve taught me. From now on I’m an agnostic. If you really exist and you want me, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I am an agnostic. I don’t know if you exist and I don’t care. I am free.” Those were the most powerful words I had spoken in the first 18 years of life.
With that final declaration I put that old car into gear and drove away from family home the religion of my past and the angry God who had inhabited that church, that home and my life for far too long. I felt free for the first time since before my first Holy Communion. I was free of an angry, vengeful God and I felt wonderful!
The 60’s. If you were there you know about “sex, drugs and rock’n roll.”
The 70’s. More of the same, only I was making money.
The 80’s. The money was gone along with the self-respect. And I learned a new term: Higher Power.
“If you want to survive in this life you’re going to have to find a Higher Power, John” said the therapist in the alcohol and drug treatment center.
“I’m afraid that you’re about to go ‘round the bend and never come back. People die of this disease. And worse.”