I'm a Catholic Christian, but probably not the kind you're thinking of.

Too often, Christianity is associated with judgmentalism, magical thinking, moralism, and stale traditions. My spirituality isn't about any of that.

It's not heaven-focused or sin-obsessed. I don't believe in simplistic, Santa-like versions of God, or the idea that anyone had to die for me to be whole.

I’m not about statues, novenas, or incense.

My Christianity is about humility, not superiority. It's a call to love and serve, not judge. It's about compassion, kindness, and human dignity—a path of meaning, not magic.

I follow a Jesus who cared about people flourishing, especially the lowly and the marginalized, and creating a world based on love.

My style of Catholicism prioritizes simplicity. Big-box churches, baroque cathedrals, rosaries, praise bands, cloying Marian devotion, charismatic gifts, and Latin Masses don't resonate. I also find the influence of Evangelical theology on Christian thought deeply troubling. The biblical idolatry, legalism, and fundamentalism it has unleashed are repugnant.

Instead, I strive for spiritual realism, focusing on love and simplicity. My touchstones are silence, meditation, love of neighbor, the Eucharist, and simple rituals.

I attend Mass, but I’m also comfortable in ecumenical settings and believe that we all must imagine new forms of Christian communities that are organic, authentic, and reach beyond the fading institutional arrangements.

I’m a liminal Christian.

The word liminal originates from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold. It refers to doorways and entrances, boundaries and blurred lines, and spaces in between.

The Irish concept of a thin place is similar. Thin places are entries and exits, blended spaces with spiritual meaning, where one reality starts and another ends.

Like a shoreline between sand and sea, a liminal Christian spiritual path is a space between traditional and nontraditional practices and thinking. It is a space between theologies, interpretations, and standard customs and stances.

This means I find meaning on Christian shores, but with one foot in the sand of tradition and one foot in the waters of a Christianity yet to be.

I yearn for a Christianity that is theologically nuanced, deeply sacramental, ecologically aware, merciful, non-legalistic, open to the truth wherever it is found, committed to unity beyond theological conformity, and inclusive of all people of good will.

The terms "Christianity" and "humanism" are often viewed as philosophical opposites, with one rooted in religious reasoning and the other in secular reasoning. However, this dichotomy overlooks a rich theological tradition that posits some expressions of Christianity as a profound form of humanism.

This perspective, known as Christian humanism, argues that Christianity, far from diminishing the human person, elevates humanity by grounding its dignity in sacred realities.

This theological foundation provides a powerful basis for humane morality, rights, and social justice, as well as the value of rational inquiry.

It challenges followers to cultivate their intellect and act with compassion, affirming that the ultimate purpose of human life is to reflect the divine love and dignity in which it was created. This perspective offers a compelling vision for a holistic human flourishing.

This elevation of the human extends beyond theology and into a profound affirmation of all that is good, beautiful, and true in the world. For the Christian humanist, the pursuit of truth through scientific inquiry is not an act of defiance but an act of worship.

Similarly, the arts—from painting and sculpture to music and literature—are esteemed as windows into the sacred. They reflect the human spirit's capacity to create and appreciate beauty, a capacity that mirrors the divine's own creative nature.

In this view, all authentic human culture, which seeks what is good and promotes human flourishing, is seen as participating in and reflecting the divine plan for humanity.

Therefore, Christian Humanism embraces and sanctifies the full range of human experience and achievement. There is nothing truly human that is foreign to or opposed by genuine Christianity.

Who hasn’t encountered Christians who presume to tell others exactly what true Christianity teaches and then require obedience to and conformity with such?

Such attitudes tend to be accompanied by efforts to exclude and harass those who don’t align with the perceived correct theology or set of practices.

The problem with those who make up the theology police is that they are often fixated on limited explanations of mysteries. There is a fetishization of certain teachings, thinkers, particular periods of church history, styles of worship, and manners of explication.

Reading a few magazine articles, watching EWTN, belonging to a prayer group, and occasionally picking up the Bible or the Catechism do not make one a theologian.

Exclusion, rejection, and a lack of charity are not a Christian response to those with whom we disagree.

I don’t begrudge anyone expressing their style of Christianity or spirituality, but I resist anyone claiming their style to be required and attempting to thrust it onto others.

Those who position themselves as the enforcers of religious and spiritual purity would do well to revisit the gospels. In the narratives, their counterparts are not the beloved disciples but the Pharisees.

Authentic radicality, from a Christian perspective, means going to the roots—the very heart—of the Gospel message.

It isn’t measured by how many rosaries one prays, pages of the Bible are memorized, or how often one goes to church.

Rather, its true power is in embracing and living out the radical demands of Jesus love, generosity, forgiveness, and service.

The radicality of Christian spirituality is not found solely in outward religious actions, but in the transformation of character that mirrors Jesus’ own self-giving love.

The deepest call of the Gospel is to become people who choose compassion over judgment, give generously, forgive unreservedly, and serve those in need, no matter the cost. This is the root meaning of holiness and “radical”—to return to the essentials of faith, to be transformed and to transform the world by embodying Jesus’ love.

Living this way often means swimming against the current of social norms, just as Jesus did; it means letting go of pride, comfort, and recognition in favor of humility, simplicity, and solidarity with the poor. Authentic radicality calls every believer not simply to maintain religious observances, but to truly incarnate the Gospel’s universal call to holiness in daily life—where love, mercy, and sacrifice become the defining marks of Christian identity.

Moral legalism, often mistaken for fidelity to truth, distorts truth and love.

Legalism is defined as overemphasizing conformity to rules at the expense of context or compassion. It reduces moral truth to a sterile code and love to mere compliance.

Legalism is neither truth’s fullness nor love’s transformative power—it’s simply a hollow rigor. Mercy, by contrast, holds truth and love together, neither relativistically lax nor legalistically cruel. It judges sin but redeems sinners —a balance that legalism cannot strike.

Truth and love, thus inseparable, frame mercy as their synthesis. Truth without love ossifies; love without truth drifts. Together, they ensure that mercy upholds reality while extending grace —a balance that relativism cannot claim.

Mercy, then, is an aspect of truth’s telos—its end and perfection. It neither bends reality nor bows to whim but crowns truth with grace, fulfilling its promise of life (John 10:10).

Let’s ensure everything is clear.

I’m not attempting to speak for any group or denomination. While I’ve been shaped by several traditions, the ideas on this site are my own.

I don’t have an agenda. I find Jesus and what he taught meaningful and compelling. That’s what I’m trying to convey in my writing.

My ideas are incomplete, lacking nuance, and still evolving.

Finally, I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I’m presenting what works for me and what seems true to me.

If you see things differently, that’s fine. My goal isn’t to win any arguments or even converts.

To each their own.

My hope is that I encourage people to think, consider new ideas, and suggest some to me.

In all things, love.