When it comes to exploring religion, I've always been a bit of an armchair traveller. I'm fascinated by religion, both by doctrine but also more particularly by people's experiences of it and what they feel they get from their faith. But until a few years ago, I had never been to any religious service (other than school Carol Concerts) or read any holy books. I suppose I saw those things as aspects of worship, and therefore only permitted to those who were already members of the faith. Inevitably, the result was an extremely skewed idea of what Christians believe, and barely any idea at all about other faiths, all based on RE lessons, the very public vitriol of religious campaigning groups, and mediaeval church history.

A few years ago, for reasons largely unrelated to my own spirituality or religious interests (more to do with my interest in members of the opposite sex, in fact), I started going to church on a semi-regular basis. Various friends took my interest in matters religious as a sign that I must have some kind of 'spiritual need', some 'god-shaped hole' which was causing me to doubt my atheism. This was far from the case. In fact, if I had ever felt that I was faltering in my atheism or at risk of an inconvenient conversion, I'm sure I'd have run a mile. Instead, I was so secure and content with my position that I was prepared to immerse myself in religion without any fear of catching it.

In fact, I felt the gauntlet had been thrown down. It's not uncommon for Christians, like anyone with a strong view, to think that their belief is so self-evidently true that anyone who disagrees must either be ignorant or prejudiced. Some people were convinced that if I simply read such-and-such a book, or went to church regularly, or 'pretended to believe' for a while, then I was certain to start believing for real. So I read C S Lewis' Mere Christianity - and picked holes in it. I went to church most weeks for over a year. I crossed myself. I received blessings. I went on retreat. I went so far as to marry a Christian. I enjoyed it all immensely - but the blinding light didn't happen. I didn't come out thinking that I'd been getting it wrong all my life and that it was all perfectly obvious now.

What I did come out thinking was that Christianity is not unbelievable. I don't believe it, but it isn't unbelievable. I'd had so many conversations with intelligent, thoughtful Christians where we just seemed to be talking a different language. I decided that the 'problem' with Christianity was not internal incoherence, but that it was based on such a radically different set of assumptions that it couldn't be reached from where I was starting. From the inside, it would probably make so much sense as to seem obvious; from the outside it could only be nonsense.

A few months ago I heard a sermon by a very fine preacher, Fr Ivan Aquileia. One of the points he made was that the first step in understanding and / or accepting the message of Christ is "initial goodwill". It's what we might call an open mind - a willingness not just to listen but to accept the possibility that we could be convinced. I realised that my position of 'open-minded observer' was not sustainable. I'd always been willing to give faith a hearing, and to engage with what believers were actually saying rather than a set of easy stereotypes. But I was no closer to understanding what it really felt like to believe than I was when I started. Although I thought I was open-minded, my open-mindedness extended only so far as accepting that an intelligent person could have an honest and well-considered faith - it did not extend to thinking they might be right.

But how do you explore something if the best way to get there is to be there already? I approach it in two ways. The easy way is through books - not just books about religion, as I've done previously, but also books intended for believers. The scary way is through religious practices: prayer, fasting, retreats. This is not a spectator sport - it's a journey into my own head.