A few years back, I was at an Avett Brother’s concert, and during an interlude one of the brothers talked about his background with faith. As he shared, he said something like, “Growing up my dad told us, ‘There’s nothing more important than your faith, but don’t take it too seriously. I mean, what do you do with that?!’”
I imagined how confusing that instruction could have felt to a kid, but as an adult attempting to live a version of faith with less intensity and angst than in my earlier years, the sentiment deeply resonated. I’ve mulled it over a lot since, wanting language to express what ‘Pa Avett’s’ instruction stirred up in me. There’s so much tension in it. How can something be The Most Important Thing yet also carry the risk of being taken too seriously?
I was taught to painstakingly filter every aspect of life through my faith, because my well-being now and for eternity depended on it. And with those stakes, how is hypervigilance not the best response? But I started getting burned out, and I remember jadedly wondering when all the attention to certainty and right-ness would end. Would I need to make sure I was going to the ‘right’ grocery store so I wouldn’t miss some opportunity that God had for me? Do I start examining the motives in my sock choice?
Jesus spoke of offering life to the full. Paul speaks of unburdened peace. Yet, what I often observed in both me and others was an anxious striving, a heavy-almost oppressive-weight of fear and responsibility, and an endless list of expectation. It seemed clear that living under intense pressure to perform, check every decision for God’s will, and ultimately just ‘Get Things Right!’ was more a path to harsh critique and anxiety than a path to life and deep-seated peace.
I long to see our faith produce wholistic good in both us and the world. That will require ‘serious’ work like self-evaluation, sacrificing for the sake of others, and choosing to live in line with values that yield long term good instead of instant personal gratification. Those things are necessary for a flourishing life and world.
And also, maybe some of the most transformative aspects of faith happen when we are playful, like children, instead of serious like adults. When we let go of inhibitions and try some things in the world; writing a song, taking first steps towards a dream, or risking something instead of clinging to certainty. Maybe we see the importance of our faith when we are able to simply relax and delight in the present; watching the dog sniff and dig and enjoy his doggy life, dancing to music as we work in the kitchen, soaking in the glow of the sunlight as it streaks across the room, geek-ing out over Goodreads with a friend.
Most of that doesn’t sound particularly spiritual or religious or significant. But in these hopeful, ordinary moments we are connecting with the creative, life-giving essence of God. Perhaps we honor this Most Important Thing, not through our vigilant, serious performance, but through our joyful abandon to the life we’ve been given.