Thirty Years Beyond the Veil

This month brings the thirtieth anniversary of my first connection with my spirit guide Jake.

I wasn't yet twenty-one. I was struggling in my spiritual life, reeling from disillusion as a born-again Christian in a church run by celebrities--Detroit's affluent. In college debt, wearing shoes with holes in them, driving a car that barely turned over on spring mornings, I never hesitated to put money in the offering plate. Never hesitated to tithe. Never hesitated to contribute to the building fund.

But when the pastor's birthday came along and the congregation filled the chapel beyond capacity for a special birthday service, I stood in shock and confusion when the head deacon presented the pastor with the keys to a brand new Jaguar. "We can't have our pastor driving around, looking raggedy, can we?" The congregation whooped and hollered as if Jesus himself had returned for the special occasion.

I, however, didn't share in the enthusiasm. Pastor was already driving a Cadillac that was quite stylish and far from "raggedy." Yet here in church, we had single mothers filling the pews alongside the elderly, disabled, and quite a few cash-strapped college kids like myself. But pastor--a family man--needed that Jag.

I drove home that evening angry at myself. I chastised myself for not being able to celebrate in pastor's...success? Good fortune? Blessing? Certainly, I wasn't envious. Was I? After all, I didn't want a Jaguar. I'd never been materialistic like that. Luxury cars, designer items, status symbols never called to me, and they certainly didn't impress me. Since childhood, I wanted more than things. I wanted experiences. I longed for engagement with spirit, with the esoteric.

I was seeking apotheosis, transcendence, and in that, a righteous fury burned in my breast as I knew I had just beheld a most gluttonous act right there at the altar before God. I had witnessed our church leaders unabashedly normalizing their avarice, flaunting it in front of church members who were struggling to keep their heat on during the brutal Detroit winters. This was opulence and superfluity in the guise of divine blessings of abundance and prosperity--all for me, none for thee. Such a gross ritual of incognizance and insensitivity, lacking all or any traces of humility.

And that just didn't sit right in my soul, to say the least.

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