We Never Learned Faith... But We Still Can

My journey through modern chaos, spiritual exhaustion, and the rediscovery of faith

This week, the Substack sensation Freya India released her latest viral piece, Why We Doubt Everything: We Didn’t Lose Faith, We Never Learned It.

As a new Catholic and former feminist/leftist, her piece spoke to me. Even though Freya is speaking about Generation Z and I’m a Millennial by a hair, I too was never taught faith—and have lived most of my adult life slightly terrified of, well, everything.

People used to say I was a ballsy, brash, and brave type in my youth, but that was always a cover for a deep insecurity that began when I was about seven, and in the black of night I asked my father, “What happens when we die?”

“Nothing, honey. It just ends… night night!”

My very loving atheist parents didn’t understand that even in their rebellion against their Christian upbringing, they still had Christian values deep in their psyche. They couldn’t see that their rejection of faith had become a new religion: absolute freedom—and it’s very shaky at best. They had their purpose, though: to tear that old stuff apart, let everyone be who they are without any influence (aside from leftist, feminist ideology)—but I digress.

Their children, however, never learned a thing about Christianity. There wasn’t anything to tear down. I went to public school and was pulled out of the only scripture class they held once a week. I was taught to ignore (or quietly insult) those odd people who needed an imaginary friend. I was taught to be free.

But with freedom comes great responsibility—and I would argue, a responsibility too great for a young person who is instinctively aching for guidance.

As I’ve written before, at the age of 29—after a decadent and devastating decade of youth—I walked the Camino de Santiago, which marked the beginning of my encounter with the divine. The atheist in me began entertaining agnostic ideas after feeling something on that great, ancient adventure. Then, I met my culturally Catholic husband and began my thirtieth decade in Spain.

I love this country and its people. Looking back, I now see it was the Christian roots that attracted me. It gave its people a positive approach to life, a sense of satisfaction, and peace—in large families and the small things. Catholicism is built into the structure of the towns: the church sits at the center, and the citizens huddle around it.

I was living in an ecosystem of Christian values, but I was unconscious to them until I had my child—and I developed an unhealthy, but inevitable, concern for what we are doing to our environment. It was trashed, and the speed of our lives only threatened to thrash it faster. The anxiety was harrowing because, like Freya India explains, I had no faith—not a scrap of faith in people, in myself, or in something larger and mystical.

In many ways, that concern broke me. I documented this experience in my memoir, Birth at the End of the Earth, where I share the beginnings of my faith journey—but I still wasn’t a committed Christian. I was living like many are these days: in a kind of loose spiritual mess that sometimes helped, but mostly felt like I was falling and pretending not to mind that nothing would catch me.

Kind of like the whole feminist mantra as we try to be something we certainly are not: “This is fine. 😁🥵”

Until I bit the bullet. I started going to church. I started wearing a cross. I started reading about the saints—and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had found faith and understood why it is essential to a healthy human existence.

My relationship suddenly began to sing. My anxiety lifted as though it had never held weight over me. My eyes lit up. I forgave myself. I forgave my friends, my family, my enemies. I let it all go to God.

And now, as I continue on this faith journey, I want to ensure my five-year-old son and other young ones have a healthy sense of faith. So I thought I’d take a moment to bullet-point what has helped me—a former radical lefty and furious feminist—let God into my life and lead the way.

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Stories — Good Stories

Before I found faith, stories were my spiritual sanctuary. In my youth, I studied theatre at university, acted on stage, and then spent my thirties learning how to write novels. I wanted to know how to tell stories with spirit—with something that needed to be said. After a decade of reading, writing, and studying Joseph Campbell, it hit me like a brick: here I am, trying to tell the story of Jesus.

Why? Because this story is in our bones. It’s this story—and this story structure alone—that digs deep. It cannot be removed without lethal consequences.

This is why good storytelling and literature are important. At a recent church talk, a guest priest explained how sitting down with your children to watch good, classic films—and discussing them—can help them connect to the divine and Christian values.

E.T. isn’t about an alien coming from space. It’s about Jesus coming down to show a little boy how to live from his heart and not become a cruel teenager, even while in deep pain from being abandoned by his father.

I’ll be doing a series on this soon to help explain the Jesus story clearly to children using these good classic films.

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Church & The Importance of Rituals

Go to church.

Every Sunday.

If you don’t like your church, try the next town over. Find a priest who speaks to you. Participate in the activities—if there aren’t any, suggest some. Connect with your community through this space and let your children experience all the spiritual rituals. The story and sharing it with your community matter. We must feel that they’re embodying it.

I’m getting baptized in a couple of weeks. The old me would have rolled her eyes at the idea that a sprinkle of water could "save" me. I would’ve argued passionately that it wasn’t important.

But it is.

We are the story. We need our story to be marked. We need to bear a conscious and positive witness to each other’s lives.

The teens at our local church have just spent a year rehearsing a play that they decided to put on for our community to raise money for them to visit Rome this year. Tell me another group of teens that have been so collaborative, inventive, responsible, and hardworking on their weekends.

This is what faith and God can do for a group of young people. They get off their phones and come alive with true faith.

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Daily Prayer & Gratitude

The first time I truly prayed was when my mother went into emergency surgery with a 70% chance that she wouldn’t make it. I was on the other side of the world and stayed up all night, not knowing what to do. In desperation, I dropped to my knees, closed my eyes, and clasped my hands together.

Still agnostic and anti-Catholic, I instinctively took the prayer position. In my agony, I remember thinking, “Isn’t this odd? Why am I doing this if I have no faith?” My conclusion: it’s a human need. It’s not an optional extra like I once believed.

That said, when you haven’t been taught to pray daily to build up faith, you don’t know how.

The secular world is obsessed with gratitude journals and meditation.

“They don’t realise this is Christianity without the Christianity,” my husband said.

So we created a prayer and gratitude journal called Faith in Five Minutes, to put Christ and the wisdom of the saints back into our daily routine and anchor ourselves in thanks.

My husband and I pray together. Yes, we do our individual gratitude journals morning and night, but we never leave the house without praying together—eyes closed, hands held. This small act has had an incredible effect on our relationship and our faith. My son sees this every morning. To him, it’s a peaceful, beautiful, and essential action, not something foreign and superfluous.

He is learning how by seeing us do.

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Rewilding Christianity & The Art of Ancient Pilgrimages

There are still a few mystical adventures left in this world. Everything else is measured and material. But we need space to lose ourselves to find something greater.

I recommend walking the full month of the Camino de Santiago to any young person. They need to feel Christ—and Christ consciousness. You will feel it on that path, endlessly walked by those seeking something deeper.

The modern mind sees Christianity as uptight and irrelevant. But it was through understanding nature—my own, and the world’s—that I came to bow before the crucifix and appreciate the masculine, and my own true feminine nature.

We need to rewild Christianity. That doesn’t mean starting some Children of God cult in the woods. It means refreshing the story so the modern mind can see the message—and be transformed by it.

The Camino is just one path. There are many pilgrimages in Europe that take a tired soul on a Christian journey without any finger-wagging attached to it. And that’s what people need. They need to feel the mystical energy of this experience and embrace it like the Spanish, as a guide, not a cutting code of conduct. Something to assist and aid not follow like one has no mind of one’s own.

This is how faith might meet a modern mind and move it in the right direction.

Next week, my family and I are walking a portion of the Camino together. My son is only five—we won’t push him, we will take a taxi when need be—but we want to set the tone: we are a family that slows down, reflects, listens, and embodies Christian values of simplicity and togetherness.

It is true that we have lost our story—our connection to the divine—and with it, the strength and peace found in the profound beauty of Christianity.

But together, step by step, we can find our way again.

I have faith.

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If this piece spoke to you—if you’re on a similar path, questioning, returning, or just beginning—I’d love to walk it with you. Writing this feels less like content and more like a calling. My hope is that these reflections offer something nourishing in a noisy world: a sense of grounding, wonder, and faith.

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With faith and thanks,
— Abigail