Rooted in Faith
It is difficult today to imagine how I could not be a Christian after all the preaching I've heard. Thunderous, rhythmic word-pounding the spirit of God. Its pulse is in me, like the gills in a fish I've breathed with it. Just as we don't necessarily reason our way to love, we don't always choose our faith, either. And perhaps we don't realize what a memory our senses have, and what a tug those memories can have on our behavior.

I first saw the light and screamed as a baby in Christianity and somewhere unspoken and unthought of, I remember and still believe. Today, what I no longer believe intellectually my body and emotions still understand as faith. I get goosebumps when I hear old, familiar hymns. In fact, you could easily catch me tuning the AM dial late at night to find small-town preachers on my car radio. The sensuous, more than the dogma, binds me like a slip knot, loosely but decisively
to my religious place.

--from "Medicine Men" the third installment of
"Born Again and Again: Stories of the Spirit; Lessons for the Soul"
by Jon Sweeney