“All truth is God’s truth.”

It’s a saying that may have derived from a St. Augustine writing that encouraged earlier Christians to recognize and acknowledge truth wherever it is found – even while rejecting superstitious beliefs that may have been tied to those truths. The saying is also the title of a late ‘70s book by Arthur F. Holmes. I’m not sure how the saying originally came to be, nor can I remember if I’d ever heard the saying before it knocked me upside my head in my early twenties. What I do remember is being 22 or 23 – feeling spiritually restless, frustrated, and exhausted – and hearing this saying in my mind as clearly as if someone sitting next to me had spoken it. Wherever this saying came from, what it ultimately meant for me was that I couldn’t put God in a box. He shows up wherever he pleases – and that has been all facts in my life.

Contrary to how it might sound, I wasn’t actually trying to put God in a box. Rather, I was questioning whether or not my “un-boxing” of God was the right thing to do. It was hard to discern whether or not the spiritual experiences I was having with God, outside of the Christian framework, were actually God. Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t – but being reminded that God can’t be boxed was a helpful boost in my confidence that God might have been speaking to me from outside of the boxes in which I’d learned to look for him.

People can’t be put in boxes either, though.

It’s always been hard for me to admit to being a Christian – even to other Christians. It’s generally considered rude – when first meeting someone – to ask about their religious beliefs. But every once in awhile, someone does ask. What usually ends up happening is that someone asks what religion I belong to, I answer. Then, they answer. The conversation ends. We both walk away thinking we know something about the other person’s spirituality because of the religious label with which we identified ourselves. People are complex. Spirituality is complex. And although knowing a person’s religious affiliation is a starting point, there is no way you can capture all of the complexities of a spiritual life in a mere religious label. At one point, I stopped claiming Christianity. I would say that I was “multi-faith,” just to see if the inquirer would dig a little deeper. Normally, they wouldn’t dig – but at least I didn’t walk away feeling categorized. Later, to emphasize the fact that I am a Christ follower, I started to call myself a “Christ Centered Spiritual Eclectic.” I’ve used that title recently but, really, it’s too much to say or write.

The truth is that there are 13 religions that I have either practiced or that have formed my spirituality in some way. I’ve never felt that I perfectly fit into any one of those faith traditions, but I sincerely believe that God has met me within the context of each of them.

Last year, I came across the term “Omnism,” and wondered if it could be a term that accurately describes me. Wikipedia says that the word “omnist” was first coined by English poet Phillip J Bailey 180 years ago. He was trying to express the idea that he believed in all religions. A few people have used the term since then, but it’s still not a term you’d hear often. Today, I’m not sure that those who claim to be Omnists would say they believe in all religions – but they would definitely claim belief in the idea that all religions are relevant and hold value.

Christian Omnism is probably something I made up.

Being a Christian Omnist – in my world – means that I am committed to following the Biblical Christ, but also believe that I have found Him in a variety of religious traditions outside of the context of the Christian faith. In the past, when I’ve expressed “multi-faith” sentiments to others in Christian community, I’ve been met with a lot of push back because there’s always the perception that I believe truth is relative. I don’t.

I’m not saying that all religious beliefs are completely true. I’m not saying that all faith traditions lead to the same end goals (I don’t even believe most faith traditions have the same end goals – but that’s a story for another day). And I’m not saying that there is no need for Jesus. I’m just saying that I believe God has revealed Himself to all sorts of people, in all sorts of ways, and through all types of religious expressions. Whatever is true, wherever you find it – it came from God. He shows up wherever He pleases.

I’m an omnist, but still committed to Christ. That’s often been hard for people in Christian circles to understand. I’m committed to Christ, but still an omnist. That’s often been hard for people in “truth is relative” circles to understand. And the biggest irony of this entire post is that I’m a free-spirited label hater, yet still feel the need to create a label to identify with.

The best thing about omnism is the ability to appreciate and understand all walks of life, the ability to empathize with others and learn from their beliefs and experiences. I love that I have learned how to let new ideas, questions, and doubt build my faith instead of destroy it. I love that I am not afraid to delve into hard questions and seeming contradictions about the nature of God, faith, or the world. I love that I don’t feel like I have to have the answer all the time. I love that I can admit that I might be wrong about everything I believe, and still not feel threatened for believing it. And although I can never claim to fully understand God, I love that I am able to experience Him panoramically through the lens of various faith traditions. There’s always more to learn, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.