The BDN Opinion section operates independently and does not set news policies or contribute to reporting or editing articles elsewhere in the newspaper or on bangordailynews.com
Dave Winslow of Brewer is a veteran with 27 years of service who has volunteered with numerous community organizations.
I read with great interest the recent Bangor Daily News article noting that Maine is now one of the least religious states in the nation. Like many Mainers, my own journey with religion has not been a straight line, and I found myself reflecting on how I arrived where I am today.
I began attending church as a young child, enrolled in Sunday School at a local Calvary Baptist Church. My mother made sure we went, and for many years church was simply part of life. As I grew older, my attendance became more occasional, but during some of the most difficult periods of my adult life, I joined one of Bangor’s largest Baptist churches. The sermons helped me greatly. Many passages from the Bible gave me comfort, direction, and hope when I needed it most.
Then everything unraveled.
The pastor of that church became involved in an affair with a church employee. What followed was not quiet repentance or healing, but a very public and painful split within the congregation. On Sundays, the pews were still full, but supporters of the pastor sat on one side while those who opposed him sat on the other. It became openly hostile and deeply unsettling.
Eventually, the pastor stepped down. I still remember the Sunday when a new pastor came in to try to restore order. Emotions were running so high that threats had been made, and I was asked to provide backstage security while he spoke. Sitting there, watching all of this unfold, I began to question everything.
We were supposed to be a community built on love, forgiveness, and humility. Yet what I witnessed was anger, division, and fear. It became too much for me, and I left the church.
After that, my feelings about religion changed. I found myself asking questions I could no longer ignore. How could God allow this kind of damage within a church? Over the years, those questions deepened as I watched terrible things happen to decent people. Then came 9/11. That was the moment that finally broke something open in me. How could a loving God allow such violence?
In many ways, I drifted into agnosticism.
I had been dealing with PTSD and mental health challenges since 1981 and had spent decades in treatment. While that helped, it was not until I began working with my last therapist that something truly shifted. He encouraged me to focus less on the past and more on living in the present moment. He introduced me to meditation and deep, mindful breathing.
That opened a new door.
I became curious about Buddhism, particularly Zen practice. I borrowed books from the Morgan Bay Zendo, about an hour from my home, and attended two meditation sessions there. I found the experience grounding and surprisingly familiar. Eventually, I created a small meditation space in my home, including an iron statue representing the Buddha — not as a god, but as a real man who taught practical ways to reduce suffering.
As I learned more, I discovered a form of Zen Buddhism that allows room for belief in God. That mattered to me. I began to see parallels between Zen teachings and the core moral principles I had learned in Christianity — compassion, restraint, gratitude, and responsibility for one’s actions. The Ten Commandments and Zen’s simple guidance on reducing suffering are not as far apart as they may seem.
I am not advocating that anyone change their beliefs. That would be wrong, and it is not what the Buddha taught. I only know what has worked for me.
Meditation, mindful breathing, daily gratitude, and a conscious effort to be a better person have helped me more than I ever expected. They have given me peace without requiring certainty, meaning without fear, and structure without dogma.
Perhaps Maine’s declining religious affiliation is not always a rejection of values, but a quiet search for different ways to live thoughtfully, compassionately, and fully in a complicated world.