unacceptable in the sight of God—least of all, I grew certain as I grew older, for having com-
mitted the “sin” of adopting the “wrong” theology.
If this was not true, then everything that I knew intuitively at the deepest part of my being was
false. I could not accept that. But I didn’t know what to accept. The opportunity to enter the
Christian ministry, very real and very present for the second time in my life, threw me into
spiritual crisis. I so earnestly wanted to do God’s work in the world, and yet I couldn’t accept
that God’s work was to teach a gospel of division, and a theology of punishment for the
divided.
I begged God for clarity—not simply on whether I should enter the ministry, but on the largest
questions surrounding the relationship of human beings to Deity. I received insights on
neither. Then I abandoned both.
Now, as I approached forty, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross was bringing me back to God. Over and
over she spoke of a God of unconditional love, who would never judge, but would only accept
us just as we were.
If only people could understand this, I thought, and apply the same truth in their lives, the
problems and the cruelties and the tragedies of the world would evaporate. “God does not
say, ‘I love you IF .. .‘ “Elisabeth insisted, and thus took the fear out of dying for millions of
people the world over.
Now this was a God I could believe in. This was the God of my heart, of my childhood’s
deepest inner knowing. I wanted more of this God, so I decided to go back to church. Maybe
I’d been looking in the wrong place, in the wrong way. I went to a Lutheran Church, then to
the Methodists. I tried the Baptists and the Congregationalists. But I was right back in fear-
based theology. I ran out. I explored Judaism. Buddism. Every other “ism” I could find.
Nothing seemed to fit. Then I heard about Terry ColeWhittaker, and her church in San Diego.
A housewife in the vapid California suburbs of the sixties, Terry, too, had yearned for an
outward experience of the spiritual connection she felt deep in her heart. Her own search led
her to stumble on something called The United Church of Religious Science. She fell in love
with it, and throwing everything to the wind, she began formal religious studies. Eventually,
she became ordained and received a letter of call from a struggling congregation of less than
fifty people in La Jolla, California. Then she had to choose between her dream and her
marriage. Her husband did not fully support her sudden transformation, and he certainly was
not okay with leaving his own good job and moving the family to a new community.
So Terry left the marriage. And within three years she turned the La Jolla Church of Religious
Science into one of the largest in the denomination. Over a thousand people were coming to
hear her at two services each Sunday morning, and the throng was growing. Word of this
spiritual phenomenon spread quickly throughout Southern California, even to Escondido, a
very conservative, traditional wine-growing and farming community to the north of San Diego.
I went down to check it out.
Terry’s congregation had grown so large that she’d had to move her services into a rented
movie theater. A Celebration of Life with Terry Cole- Whittaker, the marquee read, and as I
approached, I thought, “Oh, brother, what’s this?” Ushers handed out carnations to everyone
as they filed in, and greeted each person as if they’d known them for a lifetime.
“Hello, how are you? It’s so great to have you here!”