It was March and I was headed up my favorite hiking trail. It goes straight up, maximum output for maximum views. I was starting up the trail early, but not early enough; there was another hiker already coming down. She looked confused, and when I saw this I was not surprised: winter snows often wash away the blue flash marks, which are none too frequent nor clear to begin with. The trail did not look like a trail; it looked like a pile of rocks. My fellow hiker was not on her way down, she wasn’t sure which was the way up, and she was looking around, hoping for local salvation.

Here was my dilemma: The trail was never going to get well-marked, not at that time of year, and it was going to get to that straight up part, with the hand-over-hand climbing. I had come seeking solitude and renewal: I had my own agenda, and an unexpected hiking partner was not part of it. I could show her the way, but I had no idea at what point she’d be ready to go it on her own – no way of knowing how taking on a little trail guiding was going to rearrange or ruin my plans.

And this, my friends, is what liberal religion looks like to so many people. That’s even what it is like, at times, when you’re inside of it. There’s some obvious signage to get you started, but then there’s very little that tells you how to stay on the right track. It’s confusing. So many choices, so how do I know I’m on any kind of trail at all?

My only option is to find someone already familiar with the terrain to guide me as I learn the way, and they all seem so … busy, and comfortable, and busy. Obviously the path is familiar to them, and there’s something worthwhile at the end of it, perhaps even some beautiful sights along the way, but will they want to take me along? Is that a friendly nod I see, an invitation to tag along and see how wonders unfold, or a tight smile that hopes I will turn around, or somehow find my own way?

So, a lot of people are skipping liberal religion. They see the sign that marks the trailhead and drive on by. There are, after all, other things to do with a Friday evening or a Sunday morning. There’s the New York Times, which may make me feel lost, but never rejected. There’s an actual hike, of course, or kayaking, or a canoe trip. There’s a little thing called sleeping in, if your dog, cat and-or kids will let you get away with it. Why bother with church or synagogue when I’m a liberal anyway? If I don’t need dogma or creed, I don’t need religion, right? And surely if they needed me, they’d make it easier to follow their lead.

Well, yes to the latter, but think again about the former. Liberal religious institutions are slowly but surely catching on to their role as guides and mentors on this journey of life. While there used to be a hands-off policy – “If they need us, they’ll find us. We don’t proselytize!” – there’s a new understanding that people must be invited into liberal congregations in the most obvious and forward-thinking ways.

When you begin to notice this change, set your alarm clock, put down the paper, and join in. There’s more to religion than what it does or doesn’t do for you personally.

Liberal religion is about exploration, affirmation, education. It’s about liberating yourself and others whether it’s from faulty theology, faulty economic policies, or racial or sexual injustice: Liberal religion in this country is about community, a community that most likely believes what you believe, and wants to see the same change in the world that you hope to see. It takes all of our hearts and hands to get that change done. We only begin to talk about it and work toward it on Friday evenings and Sunday mornings. We are engaged in it all week long, and perhaps, you should be too.

There is, after all, the extremely well-marked road to more literalist religion, which not only has signage at the street, but also will provide you with a detailed road map as soon as you enter – a clearly defined set of ground rules that tell you just where you and your fellow churchgoers stand on a multitude of religious and civil issues. More and more people in the United States are choosing, if they are choosing the religious journey at all, to traverse these more conservative trails. If that’s not the right road for you, don’t forgo the journey altogether.

That pile of rocks does look like a jumble, but that’s because we enjoy having many ways, many voices and ideas, to choose from. It is more of an effort to get up this trail, but the view at the top is worth it, and that is a nod and a smile you see on that local’s face, who is, despite her previous plans, more than willing to show you the way.

The Rev. Jennifer Emrich is a Unitarian Universalist supply preacher. She may be reached via bdnreligion@bangordailynews.net. Rev. Emrich will begin a full-time position at the First Universalist Church of Yarmouth in August. Voices is a weekly commentary by Maine people who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.