Perhaps we are Religious People?

 The increasing complexity of life and being as we are 
bombarded with information from every direction. I have answers to questions I never 
thought (and probably would never think) to ask. At the tap of a finger or two I can find 
the most fascinating and irrelevant piece of information and distract myself till darkness falls and I crash into the dream world to unravel these answers and process life’s questions.   
Religion is on the decline, has been for years. The Christendom of yesteryear, my 
childhood, ceased to hold sway decades ago, except in the minds of the few who grew 
powerful on its authoritative voice. As religion goes through its periodic phase of 
irrelevancy before emerging in new forms of enlightened hope and justice, love and peace, 
we watch its local demise and seek to turn the tables, right the ship and return to when it 
was all good. Sadly, other crises have further eroded trust and religious life declines. 
So, I pondered, from my perspective of walking the line between the reality of what is, 
grounded in the experience and perception of people, and the experiential alternative that 
drives me on in following this counter-cultural and engaging way of Jesus. I pondered 
what is happening and why and how people are missing the deeper reality, perhaps cutting 
their nose to spite their face – even throwing baby and bath water down the long, deep 
drain. I thought about the crises we encounter across our little planet and the struggles of 
so many that seem to be avoidable and manageable – if only we worked together with a 
love ethic that held us. I pondered the irreligiosity and lack of spiritual depth I encounter 
in the vast sweep of media stories, advertising and commentary. Are we so unspiritual and 
irreligious as we are described? 
I pondered as I wandered and wondered, and I noticed things around me. The shopping 
mall I passed through and the rituals and forms, greeting and transaction, the blessing and 
promise. It was a lot like church or religious engagement and the faces on those who 
procured their bright new toys were unmistakably bright and joyful. They walked tall and 
strong as they left the store with their small bit of holy grail that would soon be devoured 
or become tarnished and set aside, out-dated or broken. 
I wandered past the colosseum where sporting gladiators go head-to-head before the 
frenzied crowd, baying for blood. The fans gather in their tribes, their colours, singing, 
chanting, marching and declaring their life-long commitment. They wear shirts with their 
hero’s names on the back. They gather autographs and paraphernalia, tributes to their idols 
and form shrines in their rooms. 
Still others gather in noisy, darkened rooms where the sound of ringing and hopeful 
cries are heard. People slumped over machines of promise and hope, feeding money to 
satisfy the hunger in the vain hope that it would give up its bounty and bless you with a 
big win. Hours of homage before these machines or the game on another screen, or the bet 
on a game, a horse or anything at all. Desperate for money and the adrenalin rush of a win, 
they worship at this altar. 
Across town at the better addresses, the high towers, concealing the wealthy and 
powerful, look out over the kingdom they rule – or at least believe they do. Dressed to the 
nines in clothes to impress, the language and culture of power and authority, they seek to 
gain more, rise higher and become more important, controlling all before them, these 
mortals deceived and deceiving. They too, have their rituals and sacrifice, their passion 
and drive leading onwards to the promised land, but does it ever arrive? 
We really are a religious people. We have largely replaced faith-based religiosity with 
other things to worship and adore. I wander through streets with idols and shrines, temples 
and religious sites to sit and reflect, to have life bound up in the accompanying belief 
systems. Our gods are hard wired or solid, money, gold and silver, or grounded in power 
and authority. We worship the image or style, the clever person or athlete, the voice of 
reason and authority, or the half-crazed megalomaniac who rattles off promises that touch 
something deep. We are a religious people, but we have sacrificed faith and deep hope for 
the false promises that glitter and are immediate, things we can define, control and own.  
We pursue the promised paths in vain hope that they will yield something that touches our 
deep yearning, our growing desire for integrity and substance, something that moves us 
and holds our souls gently. 
I wandered with Paul, he of Apostle status, as he meandered the highways and byways 
of the ancient Mediterranean, through cities and towns, peddling his wares and preaching 
his hope to a world yearning and seeking. He arrived in Athens (Acts 17:22-31), city of 
philosophy and poets, questioners and meaning-seekers. Here people sat and debated new 
ideas, truths arriving from across the world; they discussed. On an ancient rock called the 
Areopagus, a sacred place of discussion, listening and learning, they sat and heard Paul 
speak of his experience – not a philosophy or belief system, not simply a new idea. Paul 
was concerned and intrigued as he wandered and pondered through this city. Everywhere, 
statues of gods, the idols for every deity they knew or thought they knew and a few besides.  
One was to ‘and Unknown God’ just in case there was one they’d missed, and he/she/it 
became upset over the slight.  
‘You are very religious people,’ said Paul, but let me speak of the Unknown God, who 
is the One I know; the One who has touched my life, turned me upside down, drawn me 
away from belief systems and law into grace and love and life. This is the One who is not 
very far from anyone of us. After all this Spirit-presence is in and through everything and 
is the very substance of being itself. As your own poets and philosophers suggest, in this 
God we live and move and have our being. This God of whom I speak is the ground of 
everything and sustains everything. This God is relationship and love, Spirit and life and 
is very close to all of us, now and always. 
Paul’s experiential, relational God is all around, in and through everything and reaching 
out to everyone – especially in our moments of dark fear or painful yearning. As I continue 
to wander and ponder, I recognise that we are seeking deep relational love, something to 
give us meaning and identity, hope and purpose, security in which we can trust. We seek 
a place to belong, a tribe to be one with and share life with, to be embraced and known, to 
give and receive; to be valued and held in dignity and respect. This God of Paul’s, fallen 
somewhat out of favour, is the One who knows us intimately and loves us despite 
everything. We are known, loved, welcomed and held in deep grace and life – in God!