Walking away from religion
The Wisdom of Walking Away
As we age, we begin to notice the subtle shifts. The hair grays, the body slows, but perhaps the deeper change is in what we believe—and how we believe it. For many of us, the religion of childhood is not the faith of our later years. Some walk away. Some return. Some begin again. Others settle into the mystery of “none of the above.”
This is not failure. It may be wisdom.
The Stories We Don’t Always Tell
I have met people who carry quiet guilt about leaving the church of their upbringing. Others whisper that they are afraid of judgment from friends or family because they joined a different tradition—or no tradition at all.
But the truth is, faith never was meant to be a fixed thing. It moves and reshapes itself with the seasons of our lives. Just as the body cannot stay twenty forever, neither can belief stay locked in the forms of childhood.
When we are younger, we may cling to certainty. With age, we may begin to realize that what we most need is authenticity.
Walking Away Has a History
We are not the first to wrestle with this. History is filled with people who walked away from one path to discover a deeper one.
- Francis of Assisi was raised in wealth, his faith bound up in churchly expectations and social standing. He walked away—quite literally leaving his father’s house with nothing but the clothes on his back. In poverty and simplicity he found a living faith in creation, love, and service.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, a brilliant preacher, stood in the pulpit one Sunday and could no longer serve communion as tradition required. He left, not in bitterness but in honesty. In stepping away, he discovered the shimmering presence of the divine in nature, intuition, and human creativity.
- Dorothy Day left her childhood faith behind altogether for a time. She explored radical politics and even atheism, only to circle back to Catholicism—this time with new eyes. She became known not for her piety, but for her deep commitment to the poor and to justice.
- And more recently, Barbara Brown Taylor stepped away from parish ministry after decades of faithful service. She did not lose her faith, but she discovered it expanded—into creation, into ordinary life, into interfaith conversations she might never have encountered from behind a pulpit.
Each of these lives reminds us: leaving does not mean losing. Walking away is often the path to finding.
The Aging Soul
As we grow older, these stories take on new meaning. Aging strips away what is unnecessary. We no longer have the energy to carry masks that do not fit, or to pretend that certain rituals still sustain us if they don’t.
Sometimes the “walking away” of later life is not dramatic. It may be as simple as no longer attending weekly services, or declining to repeat words that no longer ring true. It may be discovering God more vividly in a walk at dawn than in a sermon at noon.
I know this in my own life. My path has circled through many doors—Methodist, Charismatic, Roman Catholic, conservative evangelical, even a “cult” community for a short time. At moments I worried what others might think. Was I too fickle? Too restless? Too lost?
But as the years unfolded, I began to see each season as part of the whole. Some were painful, others illuminating. Each one taught me something about the God who cannot be contained by walls or doctrines. Each one helped me arrive at a faith that fits the life I have now.
This is one of the unexpected freedoms of aging: we can choose depth over duty, authenticity over appearance.
Questions Worth Carrying
If you, too, find yourself at a crossroads, perhaps these questions will serve you:
- What have you walked away from, and what did you discover on the other side?
- What spiritual clothing no longer fits you—and what new garment are you trying on?
- Can you trust that your faith story, however winding, is still holy? Aging gives us permission to ask these questions. It also gives us courage to live into the answers.
A Wider Wisdom
The older I grow, the more I realize that wisdom is rarely about holding tighter. More often, it is about letting go. Walking away from what no longer nourishes does not mean we are abandoning faith. It means we are honoring it enough to seek the places where it can breathe again.
Some find God in prayer beads and sacraments. Others in sunrise walks and grandchild laughter. Some in silent meditation. Others in chanting, drumming, or simply sitting with a cup of tea.
The form changes. The Spirit does not.
Closing
So let me say this plainly: if you have left the religion of your childhood, if you have found yourself drawn into a different path, or even if you stand today with no clear labels—your story is still sacred. You are in good company, with saints and seekers across centuries.
Walking away is not the end of the journey. Sometimes it is the very step that leads us deeper in.
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