One of my biggest fears when my faith in the Mormon God started to weaken came with that famous phrase, “Where will you go?” If you don’t have this God, what do you have? More importantly, if you don’t have any God, what do you have?

Ten years (add a few probably?) into exploring my relationship with God, and I still can’t define exactly who or what God is. I don’t identify strongly with any denomination or their God. And I have some gripes with a God who is supposedly all-knowing and can impact things, but does so in ways that I can’t begin to understand or explain. Is God a chess master, a puppeteer, an overseer, a military leader, a parent? I’m not certain.

I have found, however, that as tragedy, heartache, and joy have come over those ten years or so, that these questions didn’t break me or define me like religious leaders told me they would. Where would I go when I saw my child hurting beyond my reach? Where would I go when my mother lay in a hospital bed and I was helpless to do anything? Where would I go when a teenager brought guns to our local high school the first day after Christmas break and changed our community?

Toward a love that is motivated by a shared humanity and desire to positively contribute to a greater whole.

Toward the people who choose love, community, and advocacy every day.

Toward people who act in love without the need to be united by one religious dogma or doctrine.

Where is God in my community after a school shooting? Certainly in the comfort of the many denominational prayers at our community vigil. But when those prayers reached out to some God for comfort and peace, the prayers that stood out to me asked God to work within our hearts to change us and move us to act. Instead of only asking God to step in to do something, these prayers asked for help to find the courage, love, and hope to continue in a better shared humanity despite our despair and helplessness.

“God” is in the people in our community who are coming together to help, to serve, to love; no matter their denomination or faith or lack of belief in any higher being. Frankly, I feel surrounded by a holy spirit the most when I’m with people doing daily good, often their life’s work, without mentioning any religion at all. There is a light within them, a drive to do good, a spirit of community, that carries such strength and hope.

I am not lost without a specific religious script to guide me.

For now, I go to work in a library every day where community services are adapting to meet our community’s new and ever-changing needs. People hold each other and send comfort to everyone in the community. At our school board meeting Monday night, the mother of Ahmir Jolliff, a wonderful 6th grader who died in the shooting, asked the community to call Dylan, the boy who shot her son, by name and not vilify him. She called for more, sustained kindness. And I heard God in her words.

Now more than ever, I’m convinced that there’s more than one way toward God/purpose/a meaningful life. I’ve been hurting. I’ve struggled with my depression. I even experienced my first panic attack last year. But I am not anchorless or afraid. Whatever good I can contribute in this life, even in my small ways, will be my communion with God and guide my life.