I became a Quaker in desperation, having ruined my ability to worship in the mainline Protestant churches that raised and shaped me. I was baptized Lutheran, confirmed Methodist, ordained Presbyterian, served Presbyterian, Disciples, and U.C.C. congregations. I became a professional Christian, delighted to design inspiring worship, preach with enthusiasm, pray on behalf of the gathered community. But in retirement I was unable to turn off the critical voice that noticed and evaluated every hymn, prayer, rhetorical flourish, liturgical gesture. I couldn’t just relax into worship, taking what I liked and leaving the rest. It didn’t help that, no longer obliged to speak to the congregation’s level of comfort, I was rapidly moving away from the familiarity of substitutionary atonement and a three-part God, with one part somehow straddling an assumed human-divine division.
The Quakers offer me both rest from the storm and the challenge to develop my own, useable theology out of whatever experiences and thoughts I can muster. They assume that continuing change in theology is a given, and that their methods may produce a viable way of life, though not a common set of beliefs. Like my nation, I swirl in the agony between what was and what may come.
Let us pray: O God of peace, who has taught us that in returning and rest were saved, in quietness and in confidence is our strength: by your mighty spirit lift us, we pray, to your presence, where we may be still and know that you are God.
