Westminster John Knox Press invited me to read and review an advance reader copy of this book. I wasn't sure this was the book for me, to be honest, because of the title. I am not post-God or post-Christian. It seemed like maybe the book was meant for those who don't believe in God anymore or who have abandoned the Christianity of their early life. And to be sure, the book offers a lot for those people to think about. But Pastor Feldmeir quickly makes it known that his real audience is those who find it hard to believe in the traditional understanding of God that much of Christianity holds: you know, the angry old man in the sky who sets up traps for the unwary human race and then ends up condemning 99.999999% of them to eternal torture because they didn't appease him just the right way and have just the right ideas about him.
That sounds like a caricature, but it is the God that many Christians do believe in. And it is a God that I used to believe in. But I don't anymore. Ah, ok, so I am living my "life after [this horrible yet very mainstream version of] God." Ok, I could get into this.
The writing style in this book might seem somewhat different for a religious book. But I think it's because Feldmeir is a pastor who's not worried about impressing or appealing to the religious crowd. He wants all people to know about what God is really like. How God truly works. What salvation actually means. What being a Christian really means. What Jesus actually taught. What Jesus really asks of us. Which is so much more and much more meaningful than praying a prayer and singing hymns and getting saved. Yet we also can't earn our way into heaven. Oh, and is going to heaven even the real goal? Or is the kingdom of God something else entirely?
I devoured this book—finished within two days. I was extremely intrigued as Feldmeir built his case for how we've had God all wrong, how we lost the plot somewhere between Jesus and today, and how much damage these misunderstandings have caused.
It's no secret that western society is becoming less religious. Europe is already essentially a post-Christian society. Many thousands of disused churches dot the landscape, empty or converted into thrift shops, flats, pubs, or any other random use. After Covid, many American churches lost half or more of their attendees. And this is happening across denominational lines. God just isn't connecting with so many people these days. Or at least not the false god that's not really the creator of the universe, but is instead a creature made in our own image by us to make us feel better. Our societies and our churches have created a false god, an idol, of winners (us!) versus losers (them!, whoever they are). (A god that conveniently hates the same people we hate. A god that likes our church the best! A god who thinks our country is number 1! So good to have God on our side, right? Sucks to be those guys who are [fill-in-the-blank] and going to hell though!)
The people that used to worship have decided they don't need the angry old man throwing lighting bolts in their lives. But that doesn't mean they have become less Christian in their ways. No, in fact the moral arc of the universe continues to bend toward justice, often thanks to the contributions of these post-Christians. You’ve probably observed, as have I, that many of the most Christian people you know actually don’t even claim to be Christian. They often see themselves as spiritual but not religious. But they are kind, loving, working for social justice, peace, acceptance, and all the things Jesus wants us to do, that many mainstream Christians actually preach against. Ever hear anyone in your evangelical or conservative Christian circles say how loving your enemies is just not possible?; how the golden rule is weak?; how nations must be overtly Christian and project power?; how Jesus didn’t really mean his teachings literally? So many Christian people don't realize the true character and nature of God. They choose a Jesus that wants America to run the world like a Christorepublican theocracy rather than the Jesus that actually existed and wants us to feed and clothe the orphans, rescue those in need, love and support the outcasts, and generally spend our efforts in support of the “least of these”. Jesus didn’t say “build me megachurches and there will I be”, he said when we ministered to the least of our brethren, we ministered to Him.
We are asked, “Have you ever searched for God?” and asked to consider:
“If you made a list of all our imaginative answers to the question of where God can be found, you’d quickly discover that our beliefs are all over the map—or, more precisely, that God is all over the map. God, we are told, is up there, down here, out there, in here, over there, everywhere, elsewhere, nowhere. So we search for God by turning our gaze inward and exploring the spiritual landscape of our lives through a variety of spiritual practices like prayer, meditation and breathing exercises, journaling, yoga and tai chi, spiritual direction, fasting, or contemplative reading. Or we search for God by turning our gaze outward and exploring those places where others have claimed to have found God--the ancient sites of the Holy Land, the medieval cathedrals of Europe, the Buddhist temples of Kathmandu, the pilgrimage trails of Spain and Italy, the silent monasteries of Greece, the deserts of New Mexico or the casinos of Las Vegas. Some people claim to have found God in the strangest places. Like church. But finding God in church, it seems, is becoming increasingly rare. For a growing number of people, their search for God has led them as far away from the church as they can get. Maybe that’s because the God they met when they went to church was nothing like the loving, luminous, numinous, life-giving God they had hoped to find. In their search for God, maybe they found religion instead of a relationship. A lot of people do not know the difference between religion and relationship. There’s an old joke that says religion is a guy in church thinking about fishing and relationship is a guy out fishing thinking about God. Churches are often filled with people thinking about fishing. But the world is full of people out fishing thinking about God.”
And so it is that Feldmeir wants Christians and non-Christians alike to consider WHERE God is; HOW God really is; WHAT God is, and WHY God is how he is. He wants us to think of sin not as the things we do that we feel guilty about and think are disappointing to God, but know that sin as the scriptures teach it really means separation from God, as he writes:
“For Jesus, sin was far more than personal disobedience. Sin was the system that kept people in poverty, slavery, fear, and misery—the inevitable outcomes of missing the mark, the culpable disturbance of shalom. In his first sermon, Jesus asksHow can we be saved if there are whole parts of our lives, our relationships, our communities, our world, that are impoverished and diminished? How can we be saved when we are surrounded by un-peace? The word salvation comes from the Latin, salvus. It means well-being, wholeness. It implies there is no salvation apart from the whole. Just as our bodies can’t be healthy or whole if our spirits are unwell, neither can our society be healthy or whole if some of the people within it are unwell, or hungry, or hurting, or oppressed. Salvation is never purely personal. The way Jesus understood it, people are not saved until the whole universe is restored to wholeness.”
When Jesus heals people in the Bible, he says to them “your sins are forgiven.” Without the knowledge that the word salvation means wholeness or healing, we might read those accounts and wonder what Jesus is talking about. Feldmeir says, “Your sins are forgiven. Jesus isn’t talking about the man’s personal transgressions. He’s pronouncing release and liberation from all those labels and limitations placed upon him by his community, all the conventions that have marked him as other than, less than, different than, all the dogmas that have robbed him of spirit. This is the real nature of sin. Sin is the impoverishment or diminishment or impairment of our relationships with God, with ourselves, with others, and with creation. Sin, from the Greek, hamartia, has its origins not in any theological or spiritual context, but in the ancient Greek sport of archery. Hamartia means to miss the mark or bullseye. Sometimes you draw the bowstring, set your aim, release the arrow, and you miss the mark. Individuals can miss the mark. So, too, can whole communities and societies. Sin is the word we use to describe how our beliefs and patterns of behavior, or those of others or even of systems acting upon us, miss the mark and perpetuate relational impoverishment or diminishment that leads to un-peace—what theologian Cornelius Plantinga calls the “culpable disturbance of shalom.” Your sin is forgiven, says Jesus to the man who fell through the roof. You’re free now to be fully alive.”
And what is this “shalom”? It’s the ultimate goal of the universe, where that very long moral arc is taking us, eventually, but maybe faster if we try to heed the call.
“The Hebrew word shalom means peace. But peace is an inadequate translation. We think of peace as the absence of conflict. But shalom is far more than the absence of conflict because we can be conflict-free and still lack a sense of peace. We might still be unsettled. We might still feel as if something is missing in our lives.
“Shalom means to make something whole. Shalom is an experience of fullness, completeness, contentment. Perhaps the closest word to shalom in the English language is something like well-being. But even that’s inadequate, because well-being doesn’t come close to capturing the radical and counterintuitive nature of shalom.
“In the Hebraic way of thinking, this fullness, completeness, contentment, well-being called shalom is the result of the joining together of opposites or ostensibly opposing forces. There’s a popular vision of this joining together of opposites in the Hebrew Bible. It’s found in the teachings of the ancient prophets that speak of what the world will be like when the messiah comes—like this one from Isaiah:
“The wolf shall live with the lamb; the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the lion will feed together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.
“Things we’d consider complete opposites—all in one place, at peace in each other’s presence? We’d say, ‘There’s no way these opposites can coexist.’ Wolves and lambs? Leopards and goats? Toddlers and snakes? Liberals and conservatives? Oath Keepers and pacifists? Even Coke and Pepsi drinkers?
“We’d call it a pipe dream. But the prophets said it would happen—wholeness, wellbeing, shalom—when the messiah comes. This is where the universe is headed. This is the aim or intention for all of creation. This is the thought God has in mind for us. The moral arc of the universe bends toward this ultimate purpose. But it does not bend on its own. God gives to each of us the task of bending it. Shalom begins with us. But before it begins with us, it must happen in us. God has this thought in mind for us: that the opposites within us would be joined together.”
Feldmeir is very personal and explains how a seminary teacher confronted him early on and caused him to un-believe almost everything he thought he knew about God. So he knows what he’s talking about when he writes, “Life after the God we can no longer believe in can be one of the most fertile seasons for claiming a life in pursuit of the God we have never met, a God who loves us too much to coerce or control us, a God who lures, beckons, persuades, and woos us toward the divine dream, calling us to becoming, to goodness, to beauty.”
This is good stuff. It’s the sort of stuff that helps us see we don’t have an angry God waiting to trip us up and cast us into hell, but a loving fatherly and motherly God, ever trying to win us over with pure love.
Walt Whitman wrote, as the author quotes, “Re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul.” Ok. Try it, Feldmeir says. Then,
“...before you dismiss everything or even anything you already believe, attend first to that which you know, through your lived experience, has gladdened your soul and added beauty and wonder and joy to your life. Consider the very real possibility that such experiences might be hints of the transcendent, holy epiphanies, divine encounters, the quiet, hidden work of God.
“Behold them with kindness and reverence and astonishment. Protect them fiercely, even if they do not conform to what tradition or convention or orthodoxy calls authoritative or even real. Love them for what they are, for their courage to have shown up, for their companionship, for their generosity. Hold them closely, tenderly. Give thanks.
“Then, consider all that which simply does not add up or stack up or measure up to your lived experience, and hold these delicately, too—the questions and doubts and the myths and stories and the rituals and practices and traditions and the creeds and doctrines and even the dogmas and all the things about God that you’ve been taught but never understood or believed.
“Before you dismiss or discard any of these, give them permission to exist, to sit beside you, to just be. Sometimes we need to live alongside the tension of what we do not believe to finally and fully embrace what we might believe. Sometimes what we never could believe or even what we cannot believe today will, given enough time, become something like a friend or mentor or muse or generous antagonist that stretches and challenges and keeps us from getting too cozy or complacent with what we are comfortably willing to believe now.
“But if, while sitting beside you, any of these happen to get too noisy or needy or accusatory or manipulative or judge-y or shame-y—or, worse, if they start to show their teeth or become aggressive or intrusive or hurtful to the point of insulting your soul, carefully pick up each of them by the tail, one at a time.
“Casually listen to them scream and whine helplessly. Remain calm. Tell them thanks for sharing, but it’s time for them to move on now.
“Take one last look at them for what they are and what they can no longer be for you or do to you.
“Then, one by one, take them to the nearest doorway that leads from your heart to the outside world, and let them go. Set them free. If at first they refuse to leave on their own, call for the dogs, reach for a shoe, turn the hose on them. Do whatever is necessary to make them go away.
“Watch them scamper off. Love them for what they used to be or might have been. Say a prayer. Breathe deeply. Give thanks.
“And then close the door and return to your self—to that part of your soul that’s been held hostage for far too long—and consider how, after all the brave work you’ve just done, your very flesh might finally be free enough to become more like a great poem and less like a tortured lament.
“Because only then are we able to comprehend how doubt can become the purest form of belief, and disbelief can become the surest path to salvation, and life after God can become the most honest and beautiful expression of life in pursuit of a God who has been here all along.
“Only then will you be able to hear the Psst! of God over the Shh! of the world.
“And the Psst! is everywhere.
“Can you hear the Psst! of God?”
It’s ok that I had wrong beliefs before. It’s ok that it took me a lot of learning to get where I am now. It’s ok. It’s all ok. Sit with it, sit with God, be thankful for those things, and then claim the right to be free from it all, to be fully alive in Christ.
And what does it mean to be human, to be fully alive? “It starts with understanding that we are neither bodies nor souls but embodied souls, ensouled bodies, who are only as well as the relationships we share with all the embodied souls and ensouled bodies around us.” Salvation is not an individual affair; it’s why Jesus calls people to go into all the world. We are all His. He wants us all to share in all that the father has.
All in all, Feldmeir makes a very strong case for a new understanding of God. He wants us to repent (have a change of mind), go from a life of trying to appease the grumpy angry God we grew up with, and mature into a better appreciation for the God that
“we were never told about—
a God who persuades out of love
rather than coerces out of power,
who feels what we feel and responds accordingly,
who is both unchanging yet ever-changing, and
who is too busy offering new possibilities
in the unfolding present
to confine our futures to a predetermined plan.”
He asks us,
“What if the real God of the Bible is working for us
and with us,
experiencing and responding to us,
wooing us and waiting for us
on the other side of life after the only God
we’ve ever known?”
What if? There’s no question anymore for me. I know this God. I have felt this God at work in my life—both my life after, and even during my belief in, the old god. God’s patient and loving that way. Find this God and your life will never be the same. That’s what repentance is: a change of purpose. My purpose has changed. I want everyone to know about the real God and how life after the fake God can be so much more than we ever thought.
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This is my honest review after reading the advance reader copy of "Life After God" I received from the publisher via NetGalley. I received nothing in consideration for the contents of this review.