This past weekend (4/6/08) I was asked to give the Sunday lecture at the Church of the Living Spirit in Lily Dale, NY. It was a wonderful opportunity and I've transcribed a rough version of the text, written in the casual style it was delivered.

Before I really get started here today I just want to tell you, this is only the second time I've stood behind a pulpit and it brings up some weird childhood memories for me. See, when I was a kid I wanted to grow up to be a TV evangelist. It looked like a great gig to me. You get the fantastic gospel music, the flashy suits, the huge congregation, the big house, the wife, the lover and the drug problem – all the trappings and perks of fame, and while I've (mostly) grown out of that, I still have the overwhelming desire to stand up here and tell you that "Jesus Loves you . . . and he NEEDS MONEY!"

It wasn't just all the accessories, I also liked the idea of preaching. Seeing those preachers talking with such conviction about God and faith and salvation appealed to me. Drew me in. I bought, sought and swallowed the whole rot. My mother still tells the story of how, at the age of three, I "gave my heart to Jesus" in front of the TV one Sunday . . . with Pat Robertson apparently. Eww. But that childlike idea of faith and devotion stuck with me for a long time. The idea that you could, and should, give your heart to Jesus. The deep and innocent faith where you screw up your eyes so tight, and you pray so hard, asking God to take care of everyone and everything you love, and the blind, trusting faith that he will.

It's hard to stick with that kind of faith past childhood. You get a little older and you start to realize that the people you placed your faith in as a child -- parents, teachers, preachers -- are human, fallible and sometimes completely wrong. As your faith gets shaken in those idealized people of your past, it often crumbles your idealized, perfect faith in God. Though, unlike with parents, disappointment in God rarely ends with a cookie and a hug. Be nice if it did, even if it would have radically reshaped history . . . not necessarily for the better, surely you've met some spoiled children.

When I was in my mid-teens the whole belief thing got a big shake-up. I started having psychic experiences, past life memories, seeing ghosts and auras, usual teenage stuff. (I don’t know, maybe it is normal around here; this is Lily Dale, for heaven's sake.) During this time my relationship with God started to change. It became less about blind faith and telling God to take care of my Mom and my Dad and my Cat, and more about asking why things happen. Why can I see stuff other people can't? What does it mean? Why Me? And the ever popular, Why do bad things happen? I still believed, obviously I was still talking to someone, but I was starting to lose faith. I no longer had faith that God would take care of everything and make it all better; there was still some blame, which I suppose is a certain kind of belief in and of itself, but a lot less faith.

When I was in my late teens I had two experiences that changed the relationship again. First, I had a car accident, I wasn't hurt, but a friend of mine had some superficial injuries . . . I took it rather badly. I believed that as a psychic I should have gotten a heads up, some kind of warning before that accident. What was the point of all these incredibly distracting and crazymaking abilities if not to get warnings before the bad stuff? I suppose it was a bit naïf, but whatever. Frankly, I was pissed and I stopped talking to God. I was angry and giving him the silent treatment. No conversations, no prayers (not even before tests), no psyhic readings, no nothing.

After a year of the silent treatment I was talked into giving a reading for a friend. To this day, that was the closest I have ever been to touching God. It wasn't that the information was so amazing or powerful, but the connection was so strong. The amount of energy running through my body was incredible and terrifying. And the feeling that there was so much more out there. Beings of such power and might that to even look upon their faces would be the end of me. At the end I was drenched in sweat, running a fever and I BELIEVED! No equivocating, no ifs, ands or buts. I BELIEVED in an incredibly powerful, if slightly impersonal, divine force. I was still a bit shaky on all the other trappings of religion but I believed!

Later that year I stopped believing in Angels.

I was in England and I met the Angel Gabriel. I wouldn't say it was fun, but it made for a great story. Maybe next time, but after that I had no more reason to believe in Angels. I knew they existed with the same certainty that I know the postman exists. I've seen him. He shows up on a regular basis and will continue to do so whether I believe in him or not.

That's what I mean about the difference between believing and knowing. When I was young I believed in a deity I had never seen but was told was there, and I hoped was there. I hoped with every fiber of my being, but all I had was faith and hope.

As I got older I was blessed to feel and see with my own eyes evidence of the supernatural I had hoped so hard existed. And evidence of some things I had hoped didn't exist, and would continue to exist whether I believed or not. These beings, angels, ghosts, God, would continue to exist whether I believed or not.

If you know God exists, there's no more need for faith, no need to convert others or build temples. None of the trappings are important, because you don’t need to be reminded, constantly having your faith reaffirmed, because it isn't faith, its knowing. When you know something exists you can stop looking for it and focus instead on understanding, exploration, a conversation, a Relationship with the divine – not as a blind supplicant looking for some sort of cosmic security blanket, but perhaps as a student with a vague, confusing teacher.

In the same way that there is no reason to light candles, say prayers and chant in the hopes my birthday card from Grandma will arrive. I know that there are divine beings and energies at work in the world every day.

So, what becomes of praise? Remember, it wasn't just for the trappings I wanted to be an evangelist, I do love to evangelize, but you can't convert someone else to a knowing. You can try to educate, elucidate, but convince? That's a different matter. You can convert someone to faith. That's easy, it happens every day. We seem to be built for faith, but belief, let alone knowing. That's much harder, and that I think is where praise and thanks come back in.

See, even though I know the spirit continues beyond death. Even though I know Angels walk the Earth. Even though I know there is a God I still don't always feel connected to the presence. I don't think anyone does all the time. Even if you have no doubt the creator exists you can still doubt your connection and your purpose.

I can tell you all about my beliefs. I've laid out metaphors and comparisons and told you more about my personal connection to the Postal Service than you ever wanted to know. What does it really tell you about me, or my connection to the divine? Nothing.

What does all this "knowledge" tell you about making a connection? Nothing. See, I think that is the true goal, the true Desire, of humanity – Connection. We think we want something to believe in, we think we want to be a part of something, because so often we feel so very apart from everything.

It is not the belief or knowledge of God that brings connection, but the act of devotion. The gift of praise. That which we give back to the divine is what brings us into closer connection. That gift of praise.

Finished with His Eye is on the Sparrow Lyrics by Civilla D. Martin, Music by Charles H. Gabriel

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

* Refrain:
I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.