Am I in a religion or a relationship?

Is the place where I’ve been standing solid ground, or shifting sand poured there by people whose intent and ethics I haven’t fully evaluated?

That contemplation rewound me to the beginning of a journey I started long ago. 

About 30 years ago, I read a book by Nathaniel Branden called The Psychology of Self-Esteem. I still think about it all the time, even though he later refined his ideas into what he called “The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem”:

1. Living consciously
2. Self-acceptance
3. Self‑responsibility
4. Self‑assertiveness
5. Living purposefully
6. Personal integrity

The book I read was written for learned scholars and practicing psychologists and psychotherapists, so you can imagine it was hard sledding for a high-school pushout, truck driver, aimless vagabond. But I got through it, and I benefitted greatly.

One of Branden’s core concepts is that self‑esteem is linked to living by a consciously chosen “personal code” rather than an unexamined one inherited from parents, society, or religion. He insisted on rationally identifying and accepting one’s own values, and he tied self‑esteem to integrity - alignment between one’s professed values and one’s actual behavior.​

Branden was closely aligned with Ayn Rand’s work and publicly argued against religion and belief in God. My experience and assessment have led me in a different direction, but I still find myself agreeing with some parts of his thinking.

Early this year, a speaker I was listening to challenged me with a question: “Am I in a religion or a relationship?”

Religions have names; relationships usually don’t. If someone asks, “Are you married?” and you say yes, they usually don’t ask, “What’s its name?” or “Which one?”

That short question put voice and clarity to some inner work I’d already been doing for a couple of years. Going back through everything I was taught—by parents, faith leaders, books, and the culture around me. Then re‑examining and either ratifying or rejecting each precept; which aligns with Branden’s suggestion about our personal code.

It has been a meaningful, but sometimes harrowing experience. The meaningfulness comes from a deeper and more mature relationship with God. The harrowing part has been wrestling with my ego and the thoughts: “What if I’ve been wrong? What if people I love were wrong?” and then letting the spirit God placed in me do the vetting of those precepts.

I’m not done yet. Maybe I’m realizing I’ll never be done.

Re‑examining beliefs and ways of life you’ve been ensconced in for decades is hard work. But as I do the work of telling my ego, my pride, and my old assumptions to take a seat and wait, I’ve started to feel freer and lighter.

Maybe you’ve felt that, too. Those moments when something you’ve believed for years suddenly shows up for review, and you’re not sure yet whether to keep it or let it go.

And then today happened.

Without warning, a simple coffee chat tested how much of this inner work is reflected in my personal operating system.

Today I met a new friend in a coffee chat. I told her, transparently, that while her writing caught and held my attention, it was also the very candid photo from her website and LinkedIn profile that made my inner voice say, “I just wanna to grab a coffee, sit at the end of that beautiful rustic desk, and hear her talk about her journey from where she started to here.” It turns out that the desk is made from a 100‑year‑old Singer sewing machine table, which somehow made the whole image even richer.

We had a deeply engaged and very real conversation. Still, I came away wondering if I’d left something unsaid—like something was missing.

A few months ago, I asked God who He says I am. I try to keep asking without turning into that guy who never trusts the first answer and always wonders if it was really God’s voice.

What I’ve heard so far, in those listening prayers, is three words: “Encourager, Connector, Uplifter.”

“Encourager” showed up today. “Connector” showed up. “Uplifter” showed up. And, though not on the meeting invite, “Noticer” showed up too… but stayed silent. Like one of those AI transcribers.

(The Noticer is a great book by Andy Andrews, if you haven’t had the pleasure.)

What my “Noticer” saw was a slight difference between the countenance of the new friend sitting in front of me and the person in that photo that first grabbed my attention. Nothing drastic, just… was it… a little weariness, was it just the day? Not quite the bright spirit beaming from that photograph.

In all our honest discussion, I didn’t mention it. But Noticer had me pondering it both during and since the conversation. Those subtle differences we see but often don’t mention.

Further reflection has me thinking: not weary or worn or less bright, just different, like candid presence and focus on our first conversation Q&A.

Do you think there’s a level of honesty we instinctively reserve? We’re concerned it might be too raw, that the other person will feel invaded or violated by our intrusive honesty.

For me, that sounds like: “I’m just not sure how honest and transparent and in‑the‑moment I’m willing, or qualified, or supposed to be.”

And then again, maybe that level of honesty is exactly what makes me those things that were said of me by the One whose opinion I profess matters most: Encourager, Connector, Uplifter, and now Noticer.

So… is there a “too honest,” a “too real”? 

Perhaps the intention behind the honesty plays into this too. I gotta think on that one.

I guess I’m out here makin’ it up as I go along. A little voice asks “Or is that just how my Advocate wants me to roll?”

Perhaps this is what Branden was pointing to all along. Not a static set of rules, but an operating system that I must keep re-evaluating, editing, in real time, in each moment, as I walk out what I say I believe.

All this has me wondering now: “Is it actually in those candid conversations with God where I’m just not sure how honest and transparent and in‑the‑moment I’m willing, or qualified, or supposed to be.