Country singer Don Williams in, "I Believe in You," croons the lines, "I don't believe that heaven waits for only those who congregate." Kris Kristofferson asked, "Why me, Lord?" And Johnny Cash said there's "nothing short of dying, that's half as lonesome as the sound of a sleeping city sidewalk" and Sunday Morning Coming Down.
Do I believe God is a lyric in a sad country song?
Not exactly, but those three lines do encapsulate elements of my core belief. I have no quarrel with those who witness. I am not one of them. I have no quarrel with those who congregate. I am not one of them. I believe in love, friendship, and companionship, but I also believe we walk the lonesome valley on our own.
Is God a gray-bearded old fellow on a cloud fit for a Cecil B. DeMille film? I doubt it. But I do believe there is a Universal Intelligence, a unifying principle. My more conventionally religious friends cringe when I say such things, but since I think it's between me and the Big Guy (or Gal), it doesn't matter.
Many years ago my father, a wonderfully profane man, was asked by a well-meaning relative if he was "right with the Lord." Papa calmly answered, "G-dd-n, I hope so." He didn't tell the fellow he'd just bought new hymnals for the church on the condition no one ever know he paid for them. He didn't mention the $500 he'd taken away from a young husband at a poker game and then returned with stern warnings about the young man's future if he ever touched a deck of cards again.
The most effective minister I ever knew never asked me if I was "right with the Lord" had "seen the light" or been "born again." He lived his faith and taught by example, like my Dad. We did not attend his church, but when my father died, Brother S. was the minister I wanted to give the eulogy because I knew that if anyone was "right with the Lord," it had to be him. He knew that my father, who rarely darkened the door of a church, was a good man, a goal that in and of itself should be salvation enough.
I talk to Someone. Seldom are our exchanges organized or formal. I'd like to think we could share everything from a cup of coffee to something more adult. It's a comfortable relationship and yes, I frequently ask, "Why me, Lord?" And, as is common to the human condition, I, at times, feel the spiritual loneliness akin to that Sunday morning sidewalk. But I believe it's all worth it. And if that's faith, I have it.