Reflection on meeting MRA as an atheist

In the previous sections, I wrote that when my life took a dramatic turn following an encounter with MRA, I was an atheist and antagonistic towards any religion. So, what was it that attracted me to a group that had strong Christian roots? I heard the story of the founder Frank Buchman who, even as a Christian minister, had a transforming human experience – from an inner struggle of wrestling with his own anger, and subsequent freedom from that. This had been in 1908. (‘Frank Buchman: A Life’. Book. Pages 30 and 31. Publisher: Constable & co limited) The whole impact of IofC grew from that.

I was struck that some who gave their lives to work with the organisation Buchman inspired were from other religions. Through the decades, a diversity of people have continued to take ownership. So, the uniting factor wasn’t primarily about doctrinal beliefs. The heart of commitment for me was grappling with the inner struggle, which we all experience in one way or another. The other factor which inspired me was observing that Buchman’s personal transformation set him on a journey that has subsequently made a big impact in the wider world, socially and politically. Personal transformation and the impact on wider society were central to its raison d’être. This made sense to me.

Buchman with Robert Schuman,

initiator of the Schuman Plan.

I became a full-time volunteer with MRA, whilst remaining an atheist. During these years I tried to tolerate, and sometimes to accommodate to, the religious beliefs of some of my colleagues. But they weren’t my own beliefs. My driving motor was to create a radically better world – a Utopia. As time went on however I realised that that wasn’t going to happen. Some things (including ones we were involved in trying to address) took a turn for the better. But there were plenty of massive new issues that raised their ugly heads. I reached a point of realising that my Utopia would never happen. So, what was the point of carrying on? I might as well go off and make the most of living it up. But that inner struggle persisted, between, ‘To hell with it’ and, ‘This is how you are meant to live anyway.’ I began to wonder whether this was what people called ‘God’ impinging on me.

I think the other factor at that time was that I deeply valued the fellowship and friendships that had become my life. So, although I am not the conforming type, there was probably the temptation to adapt to the accepted norms of those I was with.

Thus, for a combination of reasons, I decided to carry on but the basic motivation of ‘Be true to what deep in your heart you believe to be right’ found a new basis. Instead of being primarily focussed on results it became more centred on love. Also, I became more open to the possibility of a greater spiritual dimension ‘God’ at ‘work’ in this. I carried on doing the same things but the motivation was changing. This has since become an important factor in my understanding of my commitment.

In more recent years I have identified with an understanding of Christianity which differs from the ‘correct belief’ approach I had earlier rejected, and to an extent later accepted. What now resonates with me is the inclusiveness of Jesus’ passion to foster what he perceived as, ‘The Kingdom of God’ on earth. Parables such as ‘The Good Samaritan’ and ‘The Prodigal Son’ have a universal message, and all our motives become focused by stories such as ‘The Woman Caught in Adultery’, where the accusers receive a healthy challenge as well as the accused. To me, and many others, the value of such stories and challenging teaching such as ‘The Sermon on the Mount’ (which, for instance, inspired Mohandas Gandhi who nevertheless rejected other Christian doctrines), is not dependent on beliefs about Jesus being the Messiah, or the unique Son of God.


The next section involves a change of emphasis; pondering on how humanity might have developed.