I have decided to write a book. It will contain a list of words that were given to me by the Church to define my faith. They were the words that gave form and shape to my faith, that defined the boundaries of my relationship with God. Each word was a word in my dictionary of faith. For almost four decades, these words have been the plumb line for my life…and then…then…I discovered that the plumb line had become a barb-wire fence. Rather than define my faith, these words had become a prison from which there was no escape. Rather than these words bringing me closer to God, they had become a barrier that kept me from finding my soul. These words began to drown out the whispers of God in my heart and, slowly, my faith began to shrivel and die.

But then it happened. I discovered another dictionary. It was a larger dictionary. Much larger than the one I had been given by the church. There were so many words I had never heard before. All the words from my smaller dictionary were in there, but I had no idea the dictionary of faith was so large. I had no idea that my vocabulary was so limited. I had no idea the language of faith was so colorful, so deep, so meaning-full, adventurous, and mysterious.

Maybe what the church needs is to admit there is another dictionary full of words of faith that remove the shackles of a lifeless and dead religion that has tried to limit the words of faith and control them. But words, like truth, have a life of their own. In fact, Jesus said He was the Word, the Word of all words, the first Word, the last Word, and every Word in between. Religion, somewhere along the way, decided that words were too dangerous, and religion was right.

Words are dangerous, but a good dangerous. The words of faith are full of power and energy. The old wineskins are bursting, and out of the ashes of empty words is coming the possibility of a faith once again full of mystery, awe, life, and passion.