My father was a man who walked a unique and solitary path in his faith. While many in the church were content with the well-worn doctrines, my father was not. His journey as a student of Christ was one of deep questioning and unflinching examination. He was a critic of the institutional church and, more specifically, the concepts it taught as gospel truths. He often stood as an outlier, not because he sought to be different, but because his relationship with Christ demanded it.

One of the earliest signs of his unconventional approach was his critique of the doctrine of the Trinity. While many Christians accepted the concept without question, my father saw it as a theological construct that was not inherent in the scriptures themselves, but rather something decided upon by the bishops at the Council of Nicaea. The Trinity, for him, wasn’t a truth found directly in the Bible. It was a doctrine that had been shaped by human hands, bound to the needs of organized religion rather than the spirit of Christ. This belief often put him at odds with others in the church. In fact, many of the Bible studies he led would split in two as people found themselves uncomfortable with his interpretation of the texts. Yet, he held firm to his conviction, believing that his faith was more important than simply conforming to tradition.

My father’s critique didn’t stop at doctrine. He also challenged the church’s stance on social issues. Despite his own Biblical beliefs, he was one of the few people I knew who had the courage to marry a same-sex couple. He didn’t do it to make a statement, but because he understood that the freedom to love and marry should not be restricted by outdated religious views. His Bible study group was once again divided. The very same people who had once followed him now turned away, unable to reconcile their beliefs with his growing radical inclusivity.

When my father passed away, I found myself reflecting deeply on his life and his faith. I asked my mother what his latest “heretical” thoughts had been. To my surprise, she told me that he had been moving toward the belief that the Holy Spirit was not just a divine being, but an energy—a force that connected everything in the universe. This was something my father had never openly discussed with me, but it was a belief that aligned with many of his unspoken views on spirituality and the nature of God. His exploration of this idea was just another chapter in his evolving journey, and it was a journey that continually challenged the status quo.

Before he died, I had an important conversation with him—one that I will never forget. I spoke to him about the path I was about to take, a path that would inevitably lead to me being seen as a heretic, much like he had been. I didn’t yet fully understand what I was following, but I knew I was following something deeply spiritual, something I believed in as Christ. I knew that the world would not understand, just as they hadn’t understood him. We never spoke explicitly about my personal struggles, but in that moment, I felt an unspoken understanding between us. I sensed that my father had a deep acknowledgment of my inner turmoil and the spiritual journey I was on, even though I hadn’t put it into words.