The Holy Rollers

There is a dreaded knock at the door just as you're settling in for your third viewing of "The Lord of the Rings" movies. Your hair is a mess and you're wearing the bottom of yesterday's laundry hamper as you peek to see who it is.

There are countless ways to describe what awaits you at your doorstep. One common epithet is that of "The Holy Rollers." They also bear the names "Crazy Church People," "Spreaders of the Good Word" and "Unwanted Guests."

Maybe if you weren't so busy you'd invite them in and have a good laugh, but mostly you just want them to go away.

You putter around the house, avoiding the door for as long as possible. You will the phone to ring and, if they can see you, pretend to be preoccupied with a stack of papers on the table.

They always come in twos or threes, propaganda pamphlets in hand, dressed in their Sunday best. They're also young. Young people haven't lived long enough to be considered wise. They're always plastered with irritating smiles and good cheer that should only be reserved for the holidays.

When finally you answer the door, making sure to only open it enough to stick your head through in case they push their way inside, their prepared oration begins. Sometimes you feel sorry for the nervous ones. The bold ones, not so much. Others offer you baked goods to soften you up.

"Do you go to church?"

"Where do you think you're going when you die?"

"Do you want to be saved, and ensure a long life in heaven beside our heavenly creator?"

You glance at the pamphlets they place in your hands and you reluctantly accept. One particularly sticks out in my mind. It was a cartoon of two people walking out of a funeral, happy, because their relative had been "saved" and undoubtedly was in heaven.

It's sad really, our obsession with religion. We either run from it, avoid it altogether, or feel the need to cram it down each other's throats. It's a "My-way-is-the-only-way" philosophy.

The Holy Rollers, no matter their religious affiliation, always leave me feeling bitter. If psychology has taught me anything, it is that their efforts will have a rebound effect. They're never going to make lasting changes in people by showing up at the door and forcing a spiritual lecture on them.

Discovering one's faith is a lifelong process that comes with growth and maturity. It is an individual journey, and of course aided by our comrades.

Religion is used much too frequently as a judgment tool, a way to place individuals in set schemas. We think of people differently when we are told their religious affiliation. We all have general ideas of the beliefs of those religions and associate them with the individual.

Would you think of a person differently if they told you they were Jewish? Muslim? An atheist?

And now religion has become one massive competition. For instance, Protestants, Methodists and Roman Catholics all call themselves Christians, but each in disagreement over the specific rhetoric associated with their faiths.

I heard someone say once, "Love is a bright light in the universe. A bright light casts a large shadow."

The same applies here. Having some sort of faith, some sort of foundation, in one's life can be extremely rewarding, a great comfort when we need it most. But somewhere along the way we got caught up in the rhetoric of it all, with competing religions telling us what we absolutely should or shouldn't believe.

We use it as a way to judge each other instead of having an open mind and learning from each other's ideas. Nobody, not even the oldest, most renowned religions, possess all the answers. If they did, that would defeat the purpose of having faith, right?

The Holy Rollers tell me, "You can't go to heaven if you don't believe that..."

I smile politely and close the door. I make a mental note to keep a fresh supply of water balloons ready at the door for future unwanted guests.

I don't need anyone telling me about what to believe. I already know.