Mys sister-in-law sent me a link recently that I initially figured was just a new place to look at their pictures. It turned out to be an invitation to join Facebook.  I had heard of Facebook but had no interest whatsoever in it. I equated Facebook with Myspace  and that mess had no appeal.
Still, I went ahead and joined last Monday thinking it was no big deal and I could see my family’s pictures. Within hours I had received friend requests from my daughter, son-in-law, two nieces, several neighbors and a dozen people from high school — some I remember, some not the slightest clue who they were. Within days I had connected with several colleagues from my current job and past careers — in some cases that was the same person as we found that we once again work for the same company and didn’t know it. Then I began connecting with people that I have not seen in 25 years, mostly related to church groups.
All of this activity began creating a certain level of discomfort for me for several reasons.
I am not used to all of my worlds colliding in a single venue. It’s not just that I am used to the separation of family, friends, neighbors, coworkers and religious sojourners. It is also the separation of time periods. I am not at all the same person I was in high school 35 years ago, church 25 years ago, or at the places I worked  or lived 15 years ago.
I am also not used to the idea that these groups will all see the same person — photos, comments, opinion pieces, and casual exchanges — at the same time outside of each group’s common context.
In a way it is liberating. But my biggest concern is with those with whom I shared a common bond in our beliefs. Some of these people will be stunned (and quite disappointed) to find out how radically my 2009 beliefs differ from those I held in 1986. Yet, in every case where I have accepted or initiated a Facebook connection with someone from that past life, I feel that our real connection was not based on dogma but a common desire for community and integrity. In some cases, our connections were every bit as strong and important as that of our “real” families. Specifically, two families from our early life together, the Cokerhams and Rhodes, have always felt like true family to Cindi and me. Our shared faith created the opportunity to get to know each other. But together we created bonds of friendship that transcended religion.
While my views on Christianity in general have gone in new directions and my political biases have changed, I will forever be grateful for the framework created by sincere people who wanted to create a community structure that nourished relationships and empowered people to embrace their potential as humans. This framework has gone by many names. In our case it was mostly referred to as Covenant and was a product of the Charismatic movement that swept through traditional fundamentalist denominations in the 70’s and 80’s. This branch of the movement made a lot of mistakes and left some debris. But it focused on mentoring, integrity and community. Much of the material presented was quite useful entirely outside of any religious context. And you could hear similar themes echoed throughout the corporate world, especially with folks such as Stephen Covey who brilliantly bottled the secular essence as “effective habits”.
My point is that I have not repudiated the common goals of decency, integrity, accountability, and responsibility to the community at-large. In that sense, I am the guy you knew whenever you knew me. I have simply disconnected that aspect of my life from a dependence on a specific spiritual framework. I now assert that the essence of “goodness” is much more universal than whether I believe in a specific iteration of God. I sincerely hope that the same could be said about my friendships.
