The Practice Behind the Wall

When Curiosity Led Me Past Old Resistance to New Understanding

I knew I'd been blocking something important.

For years, I've felt this nagging sense that serious wisdom was hiding in plain sight within Christian teachings - treasures I can’t fully access because organized religion has left such a bitter taste. The evangelical power plays, spiritual manipulation, and control masquerading as faith had built walls I couldn't see past.

But the whisper hasn’t stopped: What if you're missing something essential?

So I did something that surprised even me. I reached out to Brian Pruett - a man I deeply respect who is of the christian faith - and asked for book recommendations. I was ready to face whatever I'd been resisting.

He suggested Emmet Fox's "The Sermon on the Mount."

The timing felt divinely orchestrated, arriving just after a particularly challenging night when I needed encouragement most.

The Revelation That Changed My Perspective

Fox drops a bomb in the first chapter: The Bible contains no theology. No support for organized religion. These structures? They're human inventions, not divine mandates.

Now, this wasn't the first time I'd heard this idea. But something about the way Fox wrote it - his clarity, his matter-of-fact presentation - made it click in a way it never had before. You know how sometimes you need to hear things several times, in different ways, before the truth of it really lands? This was one of those moments for me.

Suddenly, years of resistance made sense. I hadn't been rejecting spiritual wisdom - I'd been rejecting the packaging. Like throwing away a gift because I didn't like the wrapping paper.

Fox presents the Sermon on the Mount not as religious doctrine, but as a practical handbook for living based on spiritual and mental laws. Jesus wasn't founding a religion - he was teaching consciousness principles.

The Mirror of Truth

"Before anything can manifest in the physical world," Fox explains, "it must first exist as a clear concept in consciousness."

Reading this, I immediately thought of Yogananda's teachings in "Autobiography of a Yogi"—how he describes the universe as a divine thought, how consciousness precedes all manifestation. The same truth, different teacher, different tradition.

But here's where my own struggle surfaced. Faith is one of my lowest frequencies—I'm constantly wrestling with "how can we be sure?" and "how can we know?" My mind wants guarantees, proof, certainty before taking action.

Fox distinguishes between the conscious mind (ego) and the subconscious (heart). The conscious mind analyzes, fears, and tries to control. The subconscious connects to the divine flow, trusts the process, and creates from love.

This perfectly mirrors what Michael Singer describes in "The Untethered Soul"—that voice in your head that never stops commenting, judging, and trying to control versus the deeper awareness that simply witnesses and flows with life.

The Golden Key Practice

Fox teaches something called the Golden Key—when facing any challenge, instead of wrestling with the problem, you displace the thought entirely and focus on God (or Source, Universe, Higher Power—whatever resonates).

The simplicity of this invitation struck me. Not "believe this complex theology" or "follow these hundred rules," but simply: try it. Practice it. See what happens.

As I read this, I couldn't help but think of Singer's entire "Surrender Experiment"—how he built a billion-dollar company and a spiritual community by surrendering to life's flow rather than forcing his personal will. Fox's Golden Key is essentially Singer's surrender practice, just wrapped in very simple christian language.

What Fox calls "scientific prayer" is something I've circled around for years. I've meditated extensively, but actual prayer? That's been harder to access. Yet when I do—when I actually allow myself to pray—I feel this profound sense of peace wash over me.

Which leaves me with a question I'm still exploring: Why have I had such resistance to prayer?

The Immediate Test

Life has a way of presenting practice opportunities the moment we're ready for them. Within hours of reading Fox's chapter on scientific prayer, I found myself in the presence of someone experiencing painful thoughts and feelings. They needed support and holding in a way that would likely trigger many of my own patterns.

I'm someone who takes on others' emotions, who becomes impacted by their story and pain. Their hurt becomes my hurt. Their concerns disrupt my center. I want to help but often end up getting sucked in alongside them.

But this time, I remembered Fox's teaching. As I engaged, I practiced this surrender—asking to put myself aside and find strength in God to be who I needed to be in that moment. I prayed to be a vessel for divine support to work through me.

Something shifted.

For one of the first times in my life, I felt what I can only describe as spiritual protection. I was able to hold my center, stay grounded, and be present without absorbing their pain. I wasn't trying to fix them from my ego. I wasn't getting pulled into their emotional whirlwind.

Instead, waves of peace, compassion, love, and strength moved through me. Not my peace—something larger. Not my strength—something given.

I don't know how this impacted the person I was supporting. We haven't had that conversation. But I know how it impacted me. I felt I was able to be the support someone needed in that moment without losing myself in the process.

Was it perfect?

No.

But it was different from my usual pattern. The prayer had created a container- a sacred space where I could serve without sacrificing my own center.

The Pattern of Resistance and Peace

This experience illuminated why I've resisted prayer for so long. Maybe it's because prayer feels too close to religion that I’ve been challenged by in the past. Maybe it's my low Faith frequency demanding proof before practice. Or maybe it's simply that prayer requires a level of vulnerability - an admission that I can't figure everything out on my own.

Singer talks about this in his work—how our preferences and aversions create our prison. We reject experiences, teachings, even practices because they trigger our samskaras (stored impressions), not because they lack value.

What I'm discovering is that my resistance to prayer might be the very reason I need it. The things we resist often hold our greatest medicine.

The Universal Thread

What strikes me most is how Fox, writing in the 1930s, Singer in modern times, and Yogananda bridging East and West, all point to the same fundamental truths:

• Consciousness creates reality

• The ego/mind creates problems that only surrender/higher consciousness can solve

• The kingdom of heaven (or samadhi, or liberation) is within

• Practical application matters more than theoretical understanding

Fox writes about "scientific prayer"—not begging or pleading, but conscious alignment of our inner state with divine law. It's essentially what happens when Singer surrenders to the flow of life, or when Yogananda teaches his students to commune with cosmic consciousness.

Different words, same experience. Different traditions, same truth.

Your Invitation to Curiosity

What I'm learning is that sometimes we need to hear the same truth multiple times, from different voices, before we're ready to receive it. And sometimes the teacher who finally gets through is the one we least expected—wrapped in language we thought we'd rejected forever.

Maybe, like me, you've read hundreds—if not thousands—of books on spirituality. You've gone deep into every tradition, explored every philosophy, collected insights like treasures. And yet, when it comes down to it, you haven't been accepting the simple invitation to actually practice.

Is it resistance? Or is it that we're entertaining our minds by skimming the surface of accumulating more knowledge, more concepts, more understanding—but not allowing ourselves to go deeper into actual experience?

I'm recognizing this pattern in myself. The endless reading as a sophisticated form of avoidance. The intellectual understanding as a substitute for deepening my embodied practice. The next book, the next teacher, the next insight—always promising that THIS will be the one that finally makes it all click.

But what if the clicking doesn't come from more information? What if it comes from finally stopping the search and starting the practice?

The simplicity Fox offers feels like permission. Permission to experiment without believing perfectly. Permission to practice without complete understanding. Permission to discover through experience rather than theory.

So here's what I'm exploring—and what I invite you to consider:

What practices have you been resisting that might hold unexpected peace? What simple experiments in consciousness have you dismissed because they came wrapped in triggering packaging? What if your resistance is actually pointing you toward your medicine?

What sources of wisdom are you blocking because of past experiences? What golden keys to your transformation are hiding in plain sight, wrapped in packaging you've learned to reject?

And perhaps most importantly: What if you already know enough? What if the next book isn't the answer? What if the answer is putting down the books and picking up the practice?

Maybe the answer to "how can we be sure?" isn't more analysis. Maybe it's simply: try it and see.

Truth is patient. It will wait for you in whatever form you're finally ready to receive it.

Your evolution might be hiding behind the very resistance you're feeling right now.