Skip to main content

Navigating Faith: When Your Faith Becomes a Wall

Have you ever met someone so intensely passionate about their faith that they end up creating walls instead of bridges? I mean, they’re so "heavenly-minded" that they’re practically no "earthly good." It’s the kind of person who gets so caught up in what’s pure, holy, and righteous that they miss the chance to actually engage with the world around them. It’s like they’re living in a bubble, and everyone else is supposed to stay out. I’m sure you've encountered them—maybe even chuckled at the thought.

Well, recently, I had a moment where I felt like I was about to be the subject of one of those “what not to do” lessons. It happened at the gym, of all places. I was chatting with a fellow member about how I’d just seen the movie Wicked. (For context, it’s a reimagining of The Wizard of Oz that’s all about the untold story of the Wicked Witch of the West. Very catchy tunes, deeply layered themes, and some truly spectacular green makeup.)

Before I could even finish my sentence, another member interrupted with a firm, “Uh, no.” I looked at her, confused, and asked, “Have you seen The Wizard of Oz?” She responded, “People have choices on what to watch.” I thought, “Okay, fair enough, but you didn’t actually answer the question…” Her rejection wasn’t about the movie itself but about the title—Wicked. She didn’t want anything to do with something associated with “wickedness,” assuming it was inherently bad.

And that’s when I had one of those “Aha!” moments. It wasn’t about the movie—it was about how some people, even with the best of intentions, can be so wrapped up in their own spiritual ideals that they miss out on understanding or engaging with the world around them. And sometimes, that results in unintentionally isolating themselves from others instead of reaching out.

The “Heavenly-Minded, No Earthly Good” Trap

It’s easy to get so absorbed in one’s faith that we end up distancing ourselves from the very people we are called to serve. There’s this subtle, but powerful tendency to believe that if something doesn’t fit our definition of “holy” or “safe,” it must be avoided entirely. For example, this person probably saw the word Wicked and immediately wrote off the entire show. The title alone was enough to trigger the “this can’t be good” filter.

But here’s the thing—Wicked isn’t some dark, demonic tale of evil witches and spell-casting. It’s a rich, thought-provoking story about the complexity of good and evil, about prejudice, about finding your voice in a world that wants to silence you. It’s layered and nuanced, like the best of stories. Yet, by dismissing it based on its title, she missed an opportunity to have a deeper conversation about those very themes.

This is where we run into trouble. When we become too “heavenly-minded” (for lack of a better phrase), we risk creating a barrier between ourselves and others. We can become so wrapped up in what we deem “safe” or “spiritual” that we lose the ability to relate to people who might be asking tough questions or looking for deeper meaning outside of our little Christian bubble.

Salt of the Earth... or Just Salt?

Which brings me to the famous verse from Matthew 5:13, “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?” Jesus wasn’t talking about the need to be super-spiritual all the time or to avoid anything that might be deemed “worldly.” No, He was saying that our role as Christians is to add flavor to the world, to influence it for good, and to preserve what’s good in it.

But here’s the kicker: If we’re so busy avoiding anything that isn’t “perfectly aligned” with our Christian ideals, we can become insipid. That’s a fancy word for “tasteless” or “irrelevant.” If we withdraw from culture or judge things from the outside, we stop influencing it for good and start becoming irrelevant to the very people we’re meant to engage with.

You see, salt doesn’t do any good sitting in the shaker. It has to come in contact with food to enhance its flavor. Likewise, if we’re to be salt in the world, we need to engage with it—taste the flavor, stir things up, be part of the conversation. It’s not about avoiding anything that might seem “impure” or “worldly.” It’s about seasoning the world with the goodness of Christ.

If I were a non-believer listening to that conversation at the gym, I’d probably think, “Wow, she’s not even willing to talk about something like Wicked. How is that relevant?” Instead of seeing an opportunity to talk about the themes of good and evil, she shut it down based on one word—“wicked.” 

Being in the World, Not of It

This brings me to one of the most important principles of the Christian life: “We are in the world, but not of it.” We’re called to engage with the world around us in a way that’s wise, discerning, and yes—loving. But that doesn’t mean we need to retreat into a Christian bubble, avoiding anything that might seem “problematic.” Instead, we should embrace opportunities to engage thoughtfully, ask questions, and show grace to those who might not share our beliefs.

The balance, of course, is tricky. We should be wise in our entertainment choices and discerning in what we expose ourselves to. But being discerning is different from being judgmental. In this case, the member didn’t even give Wicked a chance to show its true colors. She didn’t ask, “What’s it really about?” or “Why do you like it?” She just wrote it off as bad, based on a single word in the title. And that’s where we miss opportunities to build connections with others, even when they don’t think like we do.

How to Be “Salt” in These Situations

When we encounter people with rigid or judgmental views, it’s tempting to go on the defensive or to try to change their minds immediately. But I think I handled it pretty well by just letting it go and moving on with my day. Sometimes, we can’t change someone’s perspective in one conversation, but we can be a consistent presence of humility and understanding.

The best way to be “salt” in these situations is to live authentically—let your faith shine through without forcing it on anyone. If you’re truly engaging with the world, others will notice the way you listen, the way you ask questions, and the way you offer grace. This doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything. It means you can engage thoughtfully and respectfully, and sometimes, that’s enough to plant seeds that will grow over time.

Conclusion: Engage with Grace (And Maybe Go See Wicked)

The next time you find yourself in a conversation where someone is rigid or judgmental, try to engage them with curiosity and grace. Instead of shutting down the conversation, ask thoughtful questions, share your own perspective, and look for the deeper meaning in what others are saying. In doing so, you’ll remain “salty”—the kind of salt that enhances the world, instead of isolating from it.

And remember: being “heavenly-minded” doesn’t mean being out of touch with the earth. It means bringing heaven’s love into every conversation, every relationship, and every part of our everyday lives. So, next time you’re at the gym (or anywhere else), don’t be afraid to sprinkle a little salt, ask a few questions, and maybe, just maybe, recommend a show that’s not only good but a chance to discuss the deeper things of life.

Because Wicked? Definitely worth the watch. Just don’t judge it by its title. 😉

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Navigating Faith: Called to Go Deeper

This morning’s daily reading from the Catholic lectionary— Jeremiah 1:4–10 —hit me hard. It’s one I’ve read before, maybe even skimmed. But today, I slowed down and took it in. Jeremiah was afraid. He thought he was too young to be used by God. Too inexperienced. Too small. And in response, God didn’t entertain the excuse. He said to him,   “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ To whomever I send you, you shall go; whatever I command you, you shall speak. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you” (Jeremiah 1:7–8). That struck a chord in me. Later, I saw an Instagram post from a local church. In the photo, a little girl—my former friend’s daughter—was sitting in Children’s Church with her Bible and highlighter on her lap. She looked like she was studying. I don’t know if she was just following instructions or if something deeper was happening in her heart. But either way, I found myself praying for her. In that moment, I understood something: God isn't interested in how q...

Navigating Faith: When you are being SHOVED to become Catholic

This morning after Mass, one of the OCIA teachers walked up to me and asked, “When are you going to do right?” I laughed, caught off guard—I genuinely didn’t know what she meant. She smiled and said,   “We just have to bust down those walls so you can officially become Catholic!” I replied kindly,   “Well, I am a catholic.” She responded,   “I think you mean little ‘c’ catholic.” I nodded and said,   “Yeah, but that’s what Jesus founded—a universal church. I don’t believe it was the capital ‘C’ Catholic Church. That structure came years later.” She kept pressing, and in a moment of genuine curiosity I asked, “If we’re truly apostolic, then why aren’t we Jewish?” Silence. She followed with,   “Well, you have to be Catholic to take the Eucharist.” Then I gently asked,   “Where does the Bible say that?” More silence. I added,   “Ya know, that’s just not important to me. Besides, you can’t prove Jesus was speaking literally when He spoke of the Eucharist. ...

Navigating Faith: Received, Not Rewritten: My Quiet Step into the Catholic Church

  Priest, me, my sponsor Today, I was   received into full communion with the Catholic Church. And if you’ve spent any time around church culture, you already know the responses: everything from the well-meaning (but deeply uncomfortable) “welcome home”… to the confused, “Why weren’t you received at the Easter Vigil?” So let’s talk about it. Not just what happened, but   why it happened the way it did. A Little About Me (Especially If You’re New Here) My name is Rai. I’m Southern Baptist by upbringing, a theologian by education, and I’ve served as a Methodist lay minister. My story isn’t one of spiritual emptiness—it’s one of a long, complicated, very real relationship with Christ. It’s also marked by church hurt. I’ve walked through pastoral failure, denominational fractures, and the kind of disillusionment that comes when the Church doesn’t live up to what it proclaims. And then, in December, my mom died. Grief like that changes everything. It strips away what’s perform...