Beloved seekers, beloved friends—
I once believed that leaving a church meant leaving Christ.
I thought when the jar broke, the water was gone.
But here is the secret: Christ never left.
The jar may shatter, but the water still flows.
When I was nineteen, I came to Serbia as a missionary. You could spot me a mile away: white shirt, black nametag, the haircut of a man who had just told the barber, “Yes, please make me look like I’m nineteen and very obedient.”
I prayed every morning, noon, and night for the people of this land. And I loved sincerely, as best as I could. At the time, I believed the church was the jar and Christ was the water. My only task: carry the jar, don’t spill it.
Looking back, I see that the jar was far too small for the vastness of Christ. But the water was real. As Paul reminds us, “Love never fails.” (1 Corinthians 13:8) And Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita, “In this path no effort is ever lost.” (2.40) So if you ever wonder whether nineteen-year-old me running around Serbia with a broken accent and boundless zeal meant anything—yes. Even that counts.
Years later, my marriage ended. My community turned away. And I believed Christ had turned too. So I threw it all—my devotion, my service—onto the bonfire. Because in my mind, if you’re out, you’re out.
The psalmist cried it too: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). But God whispers back in Hebrews: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (13:5). Turns out, I was like a kid throwing a tantrum in the living room, certain my parents had left me—when really, they were just in the kitchen making me dinner.
Without the jar, I panicked. So I built a new one—out of performance. I threw myself into service. I worked therapeutically with children and families with special needs. I started a school. A summer treatment program. A meditation center. All of it noble. And yet, if I’m honest? I was like a man duct-taping together jars as fast as possible, hoping one of them would hold the water. But here’s the problem: duct tape spirituality doesn’t hold. And eventually, I burned out.
Paul said it better: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God.” (Romans 8:38–39). And the Upanishads cut through: “Tat tvam asi—Thou art That.”Translation: stop duct-taping jars together. The water is already in you.
But I wasn’t done searching. I went on pilgrimage. To India—where I bathed in the Ganga, sat with gurus, chanted until my tongue was sore. I visited ashrams, monasteries, and temples across the world. I studied Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity anew, Sufism, the voices of mystics from every tradition. Everywhere I went, I was basically holding out my hands saying, “Excuse me, do you have a bigger jar?”
Each tradition gave me a glimpse. Each jar was beautiful. But each one eventually cracked. Until finally I realized: I was never meant to find a new jar. I was meant to discover that I am the vessel. The Upanishads say: “In the cave of the heart, the Lord of Love dwells.” And Christ whispers still: “The kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:21).
For years I feared I had lost the intimacy I once had with Christ-consciousness. But when I returned to Serbia, walking these streets again, I realized: I left. He didn’t leave me. The disciples said after Emmaus: “Did not our hearts burn within us while he spoke on the way?” (Luke 24:32). Christ was never lost in the jar. Christ was in the burning heart.
And Rumi, with a wink, reminds us: “The lamps are different, but the Light is the same.” So if the lamp breaks? Don’t panic. It’s just glass. The light still shines.
So to you who’ve been cast out for asking questions, for loving too widely, for not fitting the mold: you are not broken. You are not forsaken. You are not lost. Isaiah sings: “I have called you by name, you are mine.” (43:1). And Christ in the Gospel of Thomas declares: “If you bring forth what is within you, it will save you.” (70). Exile isn’t punishment. Exile is training. Think of it as a divine wilderness retreat—except you didn’t sign up for it, and there’s no check-out date.
I no longer feel guilty about nineteen-year-old me showing Christ through the LDS jar. That jar was all I had. Today I see it differently: the jar was seed, the exile was plowing, and what I carry now is fruit. Jesus said: “I have other sheep that are not of this fold.” (John 10:16). The Gita sings: “I am the Self seated in the heart of all beings.” (10.20). The jars may change. They may crack. But the water is eternal.
So let me leave you with this: you are the temple. You are the vessel. The water flows within you. And if you ever forget that? Well, just remember—you can stop shopping for jars. The Living Christ doesn’t need a container.
Christ never left. Christ never will