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...

Holy Saturday: Stillness, Scars, and the In-Between

Today is Holy Saturday —a sacred, quiet pause in the Christian calendar. It’s the day Jesus lay in a borrowed tomb, purchased by Joseph of Arimathea. According to the Nicene Creed , it was during this time that He descended into hell , entering the deepest places of human pain and separation so that we would never have to know that finality—if we accept Him as our Savior. “He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit. After being made alive, he went and made proclamation to the imprisoned spirits…” —1 Peter 3:18–19 It’s also the day of the Easter Vigil , the most solemn and sacred liturgy in the Catholic Church. For many catechumens and candidates, this is the night of becoming Catholic. And for me, that was supposed to be today. As many of you know, I’ve been discerning Catholicism for quite some time. I love the Catholic liturgy—the beauty, the reverence, the rhythm of it. I’m active in the Church and genuinely enjoy being there. But the truth is, I haven’t discer...

Navigating Faith: Thank You, Mom and Dad—You Taught Me How to Be Catholic

I’ve said it many times before, and I’ll keep saying it: being Catholic will always be an experience in my family. That’s not just because of theology—it’s because of my story. I was raised in a traditional Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) church. My maternal grandfather was an assistant pastor at a small Pentecostal/holiness congregation, so my mom grew up in a deeply charismatic environment. Church was non-negotiable. If the doors were open, they were there. My dad’s upbringing was different—his father was a moonshiner, and while they went to church occasionally, it wasn’t regular or structured. In between those two worlds—Pentecostal intensity and Baptist formality—I was raised. But what my parents gave me, more than any creed or custom, was a gift that I now realize was extraordinary: freedom. Not just the freedom to choose my own hobbies or pick out my clothes. It was the sacred kind of freedom—the kind that allows a child to ask hard questions, explore unfamiliar paths, and wre...