The Beginning

It must have been 100 degrees in the tent we were in for church service in Barbados.

 

I was about 4 years old, and my grandmother was an avid churchgoer.

 

I didn’t understand church, but it was one of the only times I got out of the house—so I decided to enjoy it.

 

I’d sing as loud as I could, and I remember people turning around and smiling at me.

 

I’d also fall asleep. It was so hot.

 

My grandmother didn’t like that.

 

She would hurt me to wake me up.

 

I’m sorry if this is hard to read, but there’s a reason I’m sharing it.

 

She would stick needles in me or pinch my earlobes so hard with her nails that they would bleed.

 

My earlobes constantly had scabs on them.

 

I’ve thought a lot about why she did this.

 

I know she was overwhelmed—raising five kids, living in poverty.

 

I’ve also heard she struggled mentally.

 

I don’t say that to excuse it. Just to understand it.

 

The Conflict

Because of that, I should be the last person you’d expect to walk into a church.

 

I should have the most resistance to anything related to faith.

 

But something in me never let it go.

 

I couldn’t explain it, but I felt like faith mattered.

 

The Decision

So, I approached it the only way I knew how…

 

The same way I approach training, health, or anything I want to understand:

 

I committed to it.

 

I decided to go to church consistently for a full year.

 

Not occasionally. Not when it was convenient.

 

A real commitment.

 

What I Started to Notice

 

First…

 

It’s hard to go.

 

No one is forcing you.

 

Waking up early on a Sunday and showing up somewhere you don’t have to be… that’s not easy.

 

And that made me curious—because most things that are good for us aren’t easy.

 

Second…

 

I was coaching a young man from another country, and I asked him where he had received help in the past.

 

He said, “Churches.”

 

That stayed with me.

 

Because I don’t always know where help is needed—but churches are often where people go when they need it most.

 

So, if I give, there’s a good chance it reaches someone who truly needs it.

 

Third…

 

During one of the hardest times in my life, it was people from churches who showed up for me.

 

No agenda. Just kindness.

 

I’ve also read stories of people in prison who said the most grounded, peaceful, and supportive individuals they met were people of faith.

 

What I Realized

 

So, I kept going.

 

Do I get something life-changing every time?

 

No.

 

But every time I go, something happens.

 

I learn something.

I reflect.

I connect.

Or I simply pause and feel grateful.

 

And I started to realize something deeper…

 

If we don’t create space in our lives to talk about the hard questions—

 

about meaning, suffering, forgiveness, and purpose—

 

When do we?

 

For me, church became one of those spaces.

 

Not because it’s perfect.

 

Not because I agree with everything.

 

But because it creates room for something deeper.

 

What Faith Means to Me Now

 

I understand there’s a complicated history with religion and church.

 

I really do.

 

And I believe most people who share their faith are genuinely trying to help.

 

But if I could offer one perspective, it would be this:

 

It’s less about what you say—and more about how you treat people.

 

As Maya Angelou said,

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

 

That’s what led me to faith.

 

Not words. Not pressure.

 

People.

 

My Invitation (Not a Conviction)

 

I’m not here to convince anyone to believe anything.

 

What I will do is live my beliefs.

 

And if something about the way I live, speak, or show up resonates with someone—then that’s enough.

 

But I will say this…

 

Before we completely dismiss something like faith or religion, it’s worth asking:

 

Have I ever really explored it?

 

Have I given it a real chance?

 

Because many of us have strong opinions about things we’ve never fully experienced.

 

The Bigger Question

 

At the heart of most spiritual practices is something simple:

 

Learning how to live together.

Learning how to love better.

Learning from those who came before us.

And maybe—just maybe—finding a little more meaning along the way.

 

Because at some point, we all ask the same questions:

 

Where did I come from?

 

Where am I going?

 

What is the meaning of my life?

 

And how can I live that meaning?

 

I don’t claim to have all the answers.

 

But I do believe those are questions worth sitting with.

 

Wishing you all the best,

 

Bert