Spiritual Nomad

Living as a theological wanderer in a world that demands extremes

Photo by Luca Baggio on Unsplash

(A four-minute read.)

Last week I attended a gathering in Kentucky for all the pastors of my denomination from North America. Including spouses and children, there were about 6,000 of us that descended upon the city of Lexington, spending four days worshipping, fellowshipping, and being reminded—through various ways—of our calling in ministry. It was truly inspiring and encouraging.

I tend to avoid such large gatherings of Christians in general and my denomination specifically, and this was the first time I’d attended this specific event, which takes place every five years (or seven years, if a pandemic gets in the way). Partly because I was raised in an environment—New England—where most people don’t share my religious faith, I mostly prefer smaller and more intimate gatherings of Jesus-followers.

Nevertheless, I attended this convention and am incredibly thankful I did. It was so good—and I look forward to attending the next time it’s held.

One of the interesting dynamics I unexpectedly experienced, though, was a bit of ambivalence about where I belonged. What I mean by this is that, contrary to what some might expect, my particular Christian denomination—Seventh-day Adventism—is actually a fairly large tent, with a wide diversity of theological perspectives and spiritual orientations. While most people would probably not be surprised to learn that there are some very, very conservative people within my denomination, there are also some very, very liberal people as well—who could give any non-religious liberal a run for their money.

So the ambivalence I felt was an ambivalence about the “group” to which I belonged—to whatever degree such thinking is necessary and helpful.

Am I a liberal?

Am I a conservative?

Am I a centrist?

Can I affirm some of the liberal concerns but not affirm others and still be accepted by liberal people?

Can I embrace certain conservative doctrinal points but not be kicked out of the orthodox club because I question others?

I’m sure I’m not alone in this angst. I’m sure there are plenty of others who feel, like I do, that they are spiritual and theological nomads. In fact, I know that—because when I shared my ambivalence with a few other people, they indicated they experience the same thing.

The truth is, I’ve always basically felt this way—though I think it has gotten ratcheted up all the more the last few years as I have, admittedly, reevaluated my own theological assumptions and discarded some of the values and beliefs I once felt were nonnegotiables. In that sense, I think there would be many people in my circles who would call me a “liberal” now—and certainly the Shawn of 2012 would think that the Shawn of 2022 was a raging liberal.

And yet, I was reminded afresh that such labels are eternally relative. There will always be people who are more liberal than us and there will always be people who are more conservative than us—which is why many of us try our hardest to resist using such labels, since they only have relative value.

And yet we quickly find that we can’t live without them—because, at the end of the day, even if the value is only relative, there is still some value in using such labels (especially since there are many people who are still eager to self-identify as being “liberal” or being “conservative”).

All the same, I was reminded again this past week that I do not fit neatly into either category, nor do I even want to. I realized that I have too many questions to be a conservative and too many answers to be a liberal.

I also realized afresh that the conservative “gospel” leaves me feeling beat down while the liberal “gospel” leaves me feeling empty. By this I mean that, in my experience, neither group makes much of Jesus. Both, at the end of the day, focus on what we’re supposed to do. For the conservative, it’s eat the right things, wear the right things, watch the right things—which leads to personal shame and despondency. For the liberal, it’s a social agenda—which turns Jesus into an example but not someone who first satisfies the longings of my soul.

Neither of these pursuits may be bad—and, in fact, may be very good. But without Jesus being lifted up as firstly (and secondly and thirdly and fourthly) my Savior, who emptied himself out for my redemption and forgiveness, I will be left either feeling browbeat or spiritually dry.

I guess I just want to find a group that makes much of Jesus—yes, as one we seek to emulate, but, most importantly, as one who is “altogether lovely” and the “chiefest among ten thousand” (Song of Songs 5:10, 16), the one who is the great lover and redeemer of my soul, and who wants to transform my life with his forgiveness and grace.

Yes, I know there are fellow nomads out there who long for the same thing. But I haven’t found a ton. In this day and age, especially, there seems to be less and less room for those who see life as a lot more nuanced and complex than the polarized sides that so many people demand we choose from and commit to. This is as true in the political realm as the religious of course.

So here’s an invitation to center yourself in the love of God, embracing with a humble confidence the reality of that love—not just a love we seek to emulate but a love we allow ourselves to be embraced and transformed by.

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I will try my absolute hardest to keep this newsletter running throughout the summer, but I can’t make any promises! Summer usually meets with a busy travel schedule to begin with for me, but this summer has even more travel than usual—and I’m actually taking a Sabbatical as well, for the first time in my 16 years of pastoring.

So don’t be shocked if I miss a week or two here and there. I hope to avoid that—but in the event that I am unable to, just know that I will be back into full swing, at the very least, by the end of the summer.

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Shawn is a pastor in Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil student at the University of Oxford (what they call a PhD), focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram and Twitter, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.