There is this attentive blindness that we seem to have inherited from some of our religious traditions that has us convinced he is ready and willing to have conversations with us.  Being as relationally driven as I am, I’ve translated that into a certain expectation with what a ‘personal relationship’ with God is.  I want a conversational dialogue, the opportunity to discuss and understand what he was thinking, where he is coming from, and why we are swimming through this ocean of chaos.  And to my disappointment, such a conversation is not feasible, does not exist.

But still, in my mind’s eye, I see me and God, sitting across from each other in a Starbucks, discussing existence, purpose, suffering, and the eternity of the soul.  I dearly, dearly long for that conversation.  And I fear it may never come.

What do you think? Could your faith (or lack thereof) go on without a cross as Jesus’ execution method?

Budget Planner – Mint.com

A corollary axiom is ‘ignorance is bliss’, the idea that assumed certainty gives rise to perceived safety, and is on the whole a reliable saying.  Before learning of cholera one may see no reason to drink from an otherwise untainted slough.  Before examining bicycle death statistics, one may feel comfortable riding without a helmet.  Being blissfully ignorant is something many children enjoy for the duration of their childhood.

And this idea goes far beyond physical safety, into popular culture, politics, governments, economics, sexuality, cultural norms, and of course religion.  Not knowing facts or ideas outside of your worldview gives you the freedom to feel certain you are right.

Most people claiming religious insight or understanding are frequently biased by their affiliations; that is to say they will give you ‘the party line’ when it comes to theological answers.  A true expert in a particular religion would be a rarity indeed; someone possessing unbiased viewpoints that have been aggregated as the best known answers from multiple sources.  I dare say such an expert does not exist, although I hope I am wrong.

In our quest for certainty in reconciling our beliefs, and with our lack of capacity to absorb huge amounts of arguments, we surrender much of our critical thinking ability to others, deferring to them and trusting their answers implicitly.  Particularly in religious interpretation the danger of this approach is apparent, as few groups have such expansive agendas as religious organizations.  Organized religions are less interested in the truth of their texts or prophets and more interested in how their set of derived conclusions can be used to further their assumed worldview.  The irony, of course, that such world views can degrade over time becoming muddied and not in order with the original ideas.

With our desire to be certainly right strongly prescient, this cannot end well.  It is our collective arrogance that will (or has) ultimately devolve our religious affectations into something utterly unlike their original intention.

And to widen the lens, perhaps we have already derived a product utterly unlike the original, and with no other sources to rely on, have stuck to our guns to our own peril.

A friend at work balked at the news story of Scientologists landing in Haiti to help in the aftermath of the disaster.  He questioned their intentions as to landing in that nation during crisis.  Were they going to help clear some survivors with their e-meters, or were they simply there in a humanitarian capacity?  And moreover, what purpose would an organization that is – to us – so clearly setup as a a very profitable scam have to offer the nation of Haiti; who are inexorably poor.  I can think of two reasons: it is a fantastic PR opportunity, or the most alarming conclusion; they are true believers.

They are certain.  Beyond doubt.  And perhaps in a thousand years people and documents wise to the scam will be extinct.

Think about how incredibly stressful that is! Of the likely millions of people in the world who are the correct gender, speak the correct language, and come from a background that you find compatible, there is a single person that you must find in order to be happy.*

But let me put your mind at ease. It is your choice.  There is no cosmic force that has selected a mate for you. You will not discover this fictional person by a serendipitous series of coincidences. Though it may feel that way, and though you may have found your love despite overwhelming odds, in the end YOU have decided whether or not to act. If you had chosen not to, you would have likely ended up with another compatible person.

Okay, now you have the incredible power of reason on your side. But with that comes responsibility, which means that you must also accept that your romantic relationship will change. On your 25th anniversary, you will not feel like you are walking on a cloud every time you hold hands. Unfortunately, perpetual bliss is what we love most about the “One” myth, which allows us one all-encompassing excuse that trumps all other arguments:

He just wasn’t the One.

And so some will jump from relationship to relationship, always ending with that excuse and the feeling that they are continually reaching for something just beyond their grasp.

*There is a Christian variation of this myth that shifts focus to “God’s will.” As though you didn’t have enough to worry about, you must not only decipher your own feelings but also God’s feelings. Oddly enough, there is a general consensus that this is the one time when God will not ask you to do something you don’t want to;  ie., marry someone you find distasteful.

http://www.wetherobots.com/2007/10/01/intro-ch-001/

How can I begin to describe my own messy, difficult, ongoing exit from fundamentalism? Better yet, why should I begin to describe it? Perhaps there is someone who needs to hear it, to know they’re not alone; perhaps I am vain and prideful and hope that others will read my story and consider what a strong, courageous woman I am. And perhaps I only pause because I know there are others who remain where I began, who cling to the fears D described, whom I love and hope will always remain a part of my life. My fear is, and has been since the beginning of this journey, that they will reject me if they find out who I truly am.

Truth is sometimes unfortunate, however, and I feel compelled to give the truth.

I knew without a perceptible doubt that Jesus was God, that he had died for my sins, that he was coming again, and that I was His light in the world. There was no shortage of metaphors to describe who I was; a soldier in the army of God, a runner in the race of righteousness, a traveller with a cross strapped to my back, a beam of light in the darkness of an evil world. They were lost, I was found, and I was coming to bring them the truth. I did it all: I spoke in tongues, I witnessed on the street, I prayed for hours, I fasted, I read the Bible through, I studied, I sang in the choir, I even came on Sunday nights. My faith felt glorious, powerful, and strong.

Now, this is not to say that I was the perfect model of fundamental Christianity, but I certainly was a committed acolyte. By this time, I was coming to the end of high school and was strongly encouraged to attend the bible college D so aptly described. The main reason this appealed to me was also the driving force behind my devotion; everything I believed could be utterly and completely explained by studying history, the appropriate philosophy, and above all the inerrant Bible. I wanted to go and create resounding arguments that would leave atheists and various other non-Christians stuttering and speechless. I wanted to bring them to their knees through the unfailing logic and reason I found in the very words of God. Pride had no small part in my ambition, I realize, but I was absolutely convinced that I could be a historymaker, and that through God’s power I could literally save the world. Going to bible college was the first step toward a bright, certain future.

Bible college was not to be, however. That path was barred, and I was forced to find a new one. To me, this was incomprehensible. I knew that God wanted me to go to bible college, I knew that he wanted me to be a missionary, and I also knew that he controlled everything. Why, then, would he prevent me from doing exactly what he wanted me to do? There were no scriptures, no comforts, no words of wisdom that satisfied me. In a world where faith and the Bible spoke logical conclusions to every answer, I found nothing but an overwhelming silence. You must understand what this event meant to me; it was not simply a dramatic shift in life direction, it was the destruction of my innocence. The pillars upon which my truth was built were now cracked and damaged. However, I am not bitter nor angry, because I now believe the problem lay in the foundation itself rather than the incident that rocked it.

Pillars going to pieces around me, I entered the most ideologically diverse place around; university. This was a time of intense reflection, and I did write about it. In this piece, I can still hear remnants of certainty and clarity. But as time went on, my questions became deeper and deeper, up to now when I feel as though my tiny fragment of faith is a fly in the sap. If you are inclined to read them, the links contain entries about my gradual, cyclical struggle with faith.

And so here I stand, light years from where I began. I can barely pray without being wracked with doubts, my Bible has more questions than answers, and I cry through songs that used to make me smile. I want to be a part of God, but so much doubt has risen from the ashes of my fundamentalism that I cannot believe in any way like I used to. The irony is that I don’t know how to believe other than through the absolute rationality that I once had. It occurs to me that perhaps I could learn, and perhaps I will. I still believe in God, but I have come to a point where I can no longer ignore my doubts. They gnaw at me constantly, and unless I choose for or against Christianity they will gnaw me into apathy. Already I can feel hints of blissful numbness in my soul, which is more terrifying than I can describe.

I fear judgement, I fear death, I fear hell. How ironic that through my rejection of fundamentalism, its strongest grip has tightened around me. And now, I want to end on a hopeful note, but I don’t have anything like that to write. My hope has become those who love me. Thanks for doing that.

And mostly, the part that really bugs me about it, is that there is so little I can do to adjust how I live.  To adapt into someone better.  I’m trapped in my little paradise, unable to change the order of things, passively condoning the way we treat each other as human beings.  And it’s going to get worse.

I miss the ignorance.

And here I am, actively choosing to not walk away, for various purposeful reasons:

• If my perceptions are correct (and truly, that is all we have) I have experienced the influence of God, not necessarily ‘talking’ to me, but certainly directing me (only twice, and it had to do with pursuing after my wife, and having a child… no small things)

• Christ was on to something. I can’t *prove* he was God, but I will make that leap of faith for someone who just *got it*. Again, choosing to believe in him. And yes, the bible is fallible, so the gospels might not be perfect. But the spirit of Christ is in there, and that’s what I’m following.

• Do you remember the fundamentalist ‘tactic’ Christians could use for helping non-Christians understand the concept of God where:
  

  “Let’s say this whole chalk board is all knowledge possible. Now lets assume that this dot is the knowledge that you possess. Don’t you think you could have missed the knowledge of God’s existence?”

  The irony of this tactic is that the reverse is true:

  “Don’t you, Sir Christian, think you could have missed the knowledge that God doesn’t exist/doesn’t care?”

  And beyond that I realized that both are true: I just CAN’T know either way. My little febrile mind, and my limited capacity to understand all knowledge, space/time etc etc. It is beyond human grasp.

So I’ve reduced it to my experiences and a logic problem:

I’m relying on the infinite power and wisdom of God to catch my ultimate fall into the (possibility) of hell. I’m doing my best to understand something completely not understandable, and if I’m right and he exists, and he acknowledges my efforts, he may accept me. To follow the structure of that belief: he created me with the limited intelligence and capacity to understand him, so I rely on the fact that he knows I’m inherently flawed.

If I’m wrong, and somehow picked the wrong path, or God turns out to be a lot more diabolical that I hope him to be… well, its a Shakespearean tragedy at that point.

Or, it could be a gigantic cosmic joke. But that’s more Douglas Adams’ territory.

Essentially I’m a discriminating pluralist who is a Christian. There’s no way I can know with certainty that Christianity is ‘the one-truth’.  I’ve chosen to believe it because of my upbringing, personal experiences (‘Holy Spirit’ if you will) and the fact that Christ makes the most sense to me.

I irrationally believe in a God who threw this all together, and is watching us tear it apart.