Church Without Walls

I’ve had theological questions since I was a kid. They bubbled to the surface when I was in college taking courses from professors who openly admitted their intent to destroy any semblance of theism in their students. This was particularly prevalent when psychology was a major. It didn’t work on me.

My analytical process continues to this day, but the rock of my belief system has not altered much. Superfluous questions that can never be answered have been discarded leaving me with a few solid pillars that underpin my belief system.

I have yet to find a church that sees things the way I do, so I’ve resigned myself to what I call my church without walls. I go to church every day... or at least most days. That’s when I walk in the woods with my dog. In my church there are no babies crying, no people singing off tune to inane songs led by young guitar players from garage bands and hyper-kinetic drummers. No social cliques. No long sermons.


In the forest there’s peace, there’s a stillness and solitude that refreshes my spirit, while my dog runs blissfully seeking a new spot to leave his business card. That’s my church and that’s where I communicate, reflect, pray, and think.

Even more profound is the evening service when I can sit on my deck and stare into the heavens. There’s no ambient light here in Greenhorn Ranch and my property backs to the forest, so the sky is clear and one gets the impression that there are actually more stars in the sky in the mountains than there are in the city.


That’s it. That’s my sermon for today. I think I’ve finally found my church.