Tomorrow I'm going to speak in church about my "faith journey." It's something we do at our church, a Sunday given over to the congregation.

A couple of weeks ago, when I was asked, I was all keen, imagining interesting anecdotes and clever things I might say. But over the past two weeks that enthusiasm and confidence has worn away until now I don't know what to say tomorrow at all.

It is something of a miracle that I am still puzzling over this thing called "faith" and attending church regularly. You'd think one would just make up one's mind for or against, or either become a firm believer or give up trying and stop going and forget about it. There are reasonable explanations I suppose: I'm not getting any younger and I have a son who, for some reason, I think should get something like the exposure to religion I got.

Initially I thought I would talk about doubt, my personal doubts and doubt in a wider sense too, but I don't feel I have anything convincing to say about either. Everyone has doubts.

I could say something about "attending church" and "worshiping God," how they are unlike anything else. But I don't feel particularly good at either. I'm not particularly committed to the place, and frankly, am mystified by the concept of God.

Sometimes when I go to church, I feel my inadequacies swelling up, usually right into my throat; especially when singing. That very emotional feeling has mercifully dulled over the two years I've been attending church regularly and I don't miss it one bit. It's confusing, and embarrassing.

I am feeling more at home in church now, more pragmatic. Maybe that's how faith works, in stages. But I don't want to have illusions either. It's unlikely that I'll become a stalwart of the community; I've never been good at that. I may stop going again. That's happened before, many times.

I do think there's something about the particular church I go to. But I don't want to have illusions about this either; its a humble building and hospitable, but not glamorous or exceptional. It's driven by some good people as far as I can tell, who keep things going and seem to get something out of that.

There is one thing about our church. It is the fact that it's the only church I've ever visited that that welcomed me, that didn't just sort of imply it with general niceness, or say it like you were a tourist in town for the day, but actually said it out loud, "Welcome," and meant it, whoever you are, wherever you've been, whatever you've done. I felt something the first time I heard it and every week I hear it I feel something. I feel like even I, poor in spirit, weak and unworthy in every respect, am included and that seems to have given me the strength to keep on.