Through years of study and reflection, Timothy Berg found the religion that speaks his language.

Timothy Berg describes his 15-year-old self as the oddball kid who preferred to read alone in his room. His books of choice were often about religions and philosophical practices: Islam, Buddhism, Christianity, and Judaism. He’d received the books from his dad, who had owned them in the 1960s.

The current associate teaching professor of honors humanities at Ball State University was a confirmed Methodist at the time. His mother identified as a Southern Baptist, while his father was Catholic. Neither one was particularly fervent with their religious practices. As a compromise, Timothy and his brothers were raised Methodist, but he and his family attended church irregularly throughout his childhood.

Timothy’s parents persuaded him to get confirmed when he was 13 years old. It was his mother that really wanted it, so he complied with her wishes. He didn’t necessarily identify with the faith’s beliefs, but rather than fight it, he just went along.

As Timothy advanced to middle school, he began pondering the meaning of life and asking big questions.

“Why are we here? Where do we come from?” asked Timothy. “There are different ways of approaching the question.”

He thought Christianity’s answers to those questions were too rigid. He wanted something more flexible.

At this point, he’d only attended church to please his mother, who he says had a mindset of, I need to get the boys to church, or else they won’t be raised right. He found Methodism to be strict in its interpretation and religious practices. It was too structured. He craved a religion that was open to everyone and could see constant transformation.

Timothy looked to different sources for the answers, such as the religion books he pored over as a teenager and the various religious services he attended. Some of the topics he read about spoke to him, while others didn’t.

[epq-quote align=”align-left”]“It was a feeling of belonging and being at home. A coming home.” – Timothy Berg[/epq-quote]

Out of all the religions he studied, Buddhism resonated with Timothy the most. He realized its vocabulary aligned with his and, for the most part, answered the big questions he had been asking. He was drawn to Buddhism’s openness. He felt at home. He didn’t like being told what to do, and he felt that Buddhism allowed him to interpret the faith how he wanted.

According to Pew Research, 44 percent of Americans will change from one faith to another by adulthood. Many people make the switch because they are disenchanted with their current religions, often either for marriage purposes or because they come to disagree with certain religious practices. Rachel Kraus, a professor of sociology at Ball State, says some people change religions when they begin to discover their own identities and realize their religions don’t mesh with who they are or what they want in life.

For Timothy, changing religions was a gradual process involving research, time, and exploration.

At 12 years old, he occasionally attended his church’s youth group, a time for middle school and high school students to engage with other youth at their place of worship or in the community. He fought it, but his mother wanted him to be involved in the church, to be “raised right.” So Timothy went, even though he felt like an outsider.

“I felt forced to believe in something when I didn’t believe it,” he says.

So, he explored other options. It was in the religion books he read as a 15-year-old that he first connected with the Buddhist faith.

“It was a feeling of belonging and being at home,” Timothy says. “A coming home.”

For him, religion is something he prefers to do alone. He feels connected with the divine by listening to music or being at an art museum. But he’s not a “card-carrying” Buddhist. Rather, he practices it irregularly. He doesn’t have a shrine or anything in his office, nor does he do the five prayers a day or meditate. He doesn’t practice Buddhist traditions or even personally identify much with the culture. Instead, he appreciates and agrees with its philosophies.

“Its ideas are accurate in the way I believe life to be,” says Timothy. “It doesn’t make any supernatural claims that ask me to believe something I don’t think is true.”

One piece of evidence of his religious affiliation is a Buddha statue that sits in his office, on a shelf filled with various books and knick knacks. It’s the only one he owns, and it’s mostly for decoration. It was a gift from his host in Kathmandu on a trip he took to Nepal.

He might not own much traditional Buddhist decor, but Timothy reads Buddhist literature. He knows its words and understands them. How often he reads all depends on what season of life he’s in.

Compared to other religions, Timothy found Buddhism to have the right vocabulary for him. It had the right words to explain why we are here and how to live properly. For example, like Buddhists, Timothy often finds a connection with the divine through nature.

“We are just another natural thing that occurs,” he says. “We have our time in this form, then we go away in this form to do something else.”

Timothy’s wife and children don’t follow the Buddhist faith, and he doesn’t force his daughters to believe in any religion.

“They will come to those questions when they’re ready,” says Timothy, in relation to the things he asked himself as a teen.

Religion is more of a private exploration for Timothy, and he has been known to attend various services alone.

For example, he first visited a Buddhist temple in Indianapolis by himself, and that was the only time he visited. He recalls not enjoying the formal rituals, which gave him a “cold feeling.” They did more than 300 bowing prostrations—knees, then chest to the floor. He was sore the next day.

He has also gone solo to a temple and a mosque in India, as well as a Catholic church in Europe.

Timothy thinks it’s highly unlikely he’ll change religions again. He feels in alignment with himself through Buddhism and has found a permanent home in the faith.