To find a starting point for one's spiritual journey is always difficult. How far back do you go? For me I suppose I'd have to start with the day I decided not to go to Sunday School. My parents were not church goers, but we were sent to Sunday School. After two weeks I declared it to be boring and that it wasn't for me. Little did I know at the tender age of 4 that I would spend the larger part of my life serving the very institution I appeared to be rejecting that day. Perhaps even then the established church was not a great fit for me!
I also remember asking, at one family meal, why I had to believe in God. Because the adults told me so simply didn't satisfy my young mind, and so at 4 years of age I was already asking deep questions that were getting me into trouble.
I don't remember much about the next 10 years or so. I know that by the time I was 15 or so my questions had become more focused on life's meaning. More specifically about who could give meaning to my life, who had the authority to do that. Existential philosophy appeared to suggest that you do the truth thing for yourself, but that didn't satisfy me.
As I travelled to and from school one thing always caught my eye, an illuminate cross on a church. At the time I didn't understand why or what it represented. It wasn't until I arrived at University that I found someone who helped me understand how to begin a relationship with God.
So there I was, sitting in my room on the last Sunday of the first term in 1976 asking God to do for me what I needed. To forgive me and to give meaning to my life.
Questions, then, have always been a major part of my mental tapestry. Sometimes I ask too many questions, and that paralyses action. Sometimes the questions are a launching point for deeper study and learning. I still ask questions, and for some people I still ask too many as I try to understand what it means to know God and make him known.