CHAPEL HILL -- When 3-year-old Lucas Park came home from preschool one day and uttered the "G" word, his dad panicked.
A freelance journalist, and a one-time business reporter for The News & Observer, Andrew Park was comfortable in his nonbelief and had no ready response to his son's unassuming talk of God.
But he also knew he couldn't dismiss or otherwise denigrate faith. What would that say about his older brother, Ewan, a committed evangelical Christian, or the memory of his great-grandfather, Julius Culbreth, a founding member of the International Pentecostal Holiness Church?
So he did what came naturally - he researched the topic and wrote a book.
"Between a Church and a Hard Place: One Faith-Free Dad's Struggles to Understand What It Means to Be Religious (or Not)" ( www. andrewparkauthor.com ) is Park's answer to what may be other nonbelieving parents' run-for-the-hills response to a child's questions about God.
The book strives to respectfully address religious faith from a nonbeliever's perspective, working to find a middle ground between two dueling camps.
"It doesn't get society very far to be that polarized," said Park, 39, who lives in Chapel Hill. "People who have not picked a side should assert their right to say, 'Being in the middle is OK.'"
In many ways, Park is the perfect person to explore the issue. He grew up in Charlotte, the son of two UNC-Charlotte academics. His mother became a Christian as a teen at a 1951 Billy Graham crusade in Raleigh. His father had mostly dreary memories of his Presbyterian upbringing in Scotland.
Both parents grew away from their faiths as adults, and the Park boys did not attend church. But in high school, Ewan Park had a born-again experience and became an evangelical. Andrew Park held fast to his nonbelief.
He and his wife, Cristina, were married by a liberal Methodist minister on the grounds of an art museum. Like 16 percent of the U.S. population, they consider themselves"nones," people who answer "nothing in particular" when asked to name their faith. These days, the nones make up the fastest-growing segment of the national religious pie.
And while a small percentage of nonbelievers dismiss believers as delusional, Park isn't among them.
"It's ridiculous to say religion or irreligion are going to be vanquished in my lifetime or in my children's lifetime," Park said.
In his book, Park sets out to explore common ground while also delving into his past, especially his great-grandfather's devotion to Pentecostal Christianity in the Cumberland County town of Falcon. Julius Culbreth's unwavering faith led him to donate land for a church, a camp meeting and an orphanage.
"He dedicated his life to something bigger than himself," Park writes in his book. "Perhaps that's why I didn't steer my children away from believing in God. I couldn't rule out the possibility that inspiration of the magnitude that had struck Julius might one day find them."
But neither is Park content with the "some believe this, some believe that" approach to child rearing.
"It's important to tell kids what you do believe - what's meaningful and important to you," he said. "That's sometimes missed by parents who are consciously or subconsciously avoiding talking about religion."
Park's children, Lucas, now 7, and Fiona, 5, do not attend church, except on special occasions, such as Christmas. They still ask about religion. Recently Fiona asked why Jesus was killed and how he was able to come back to life.
Park's wife gave Fiona what he hopes is a straightforward answer.
Park thinks he has struck a reasonable middle-ground, one he hopes won't make his kids feel that he's running away from religion or feeling guilty about it.
Parks thinks the American religious story is one of finding and losing faith, though people on either extreme envision a time when all Americans will become Christians or become secular. "My story is kind of interesting," he said. "But I think in almost any family you can find that ebb and flow."
