Navel Gazing

Questions from Arwen on this post I referenced before:

Since we’ve got an atheist here, and I whatever I am, both of whom have a dearth of practise whereas Christianity has a long history, I wonder what parts of Christian practise work for you?

Also, is Christ somehow present for you if you’re feeling these emotions? Or, does what Christ said strike you as the teachings of someone coming from a similar place? Or, is there some other connection for you -like praying gets you in touch, or you have experiences in Church or using the Bible?

I’m having a hard time getting started writing a response to these questions, largely because I really wonder if I am actually Christian at all. While I certainly identify as Christian, is this because I identify with the theology of Christianity, or is this because I was raised Christian and can’t imagine not identifying that way?

If I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure that I believe the whole she-bang. So what the hell (ha!) do I believe, anyway? The one thing that I return to, time and again, is that there’s a God. Scratch that. There’s something bigger than me, bigger than the United States, bigger than the UN, just…more. Perhaps it’s not even accurate to compare the “bigger” thing (whatever he/she/it may be) with governing bodies; after all, those are constructs of humanity. So what, then? I’m not sure. I’d say that this bigger thing is bigger like the laws of physics are bigger as a start. There aren’t punishments for disobeying the laws of physics, because it’s simply not possible to disobey them in the first place. They are what they are, a fact of our existence. We can seek to understand them more, to shed light on how they work — but our study of them doesn’t change their nature, only our understanding of their nature.

Okay, that’s a start. But in my gut (ooh, scientific here, folks), I feel something else, something a little more personal than physics. The love and acceptance that I experience (when I back away from beating myself up) doesn’t feel like it’s coming from me, but from somewhere — or someone — else. There’s a sense for me that there’s a greater purpose in my life than just mere existence. When I feel hopeless — say, when realizing that I’ll soon be 35, and what do I have to show for it — I gain a sense of calm from feeling like it’s okay, and that there’s someone else out there with a 100,000 foot viewpoint of where I fit into the scheme of things.

If I’m not answering Arwen’s questions, I realize that it’s for a simple reason: I don’t have answers to the questions she asked. If, instead of saying “Christ,” she’d said “Also, is God somehow present for you if you’re feeling these emotions,” I might have had ready responses. Instead, I read her questions and start to ask myself other, more difficult questions.

Well, fuck. Where do I go from here? Don’t tell me to read the Bible. I’d have to genuinely believe that the Bible is divine for that to make sense to me, and well…I don’t know that I’m there. Another thought: I said “well, fuck” up above, but that implies that my lack of knowing what I believe about Christianity causes me angst. When I really come down to it, I’m not particularly bothered about it.

You’ve always struck me as someone who’s willing to seek truth, whether you like the answers you find or not.

Those are the words I heard from a Christian friend-of-the-family (part of my parents’ house church) a couple weeks ago. There’s a lot of truth to them. What does bother me, though, is not that the answers I find won’t be to my liking, but rather, that I will be expected to justify my answers (or lack of answers) to family — family who will fear for the safety of my *soul* if I share what I genuinely believe.

Skeptically Credulous

Hmmm. Maybe it’s time to look at re-writing my profile; I find myself to be more of the former and less of the latter.

Urgency

There is a part of me that thinks I should struggle to find answers NOW. This is the same part that swallowed the charismaniac line whole as a teenager, sang with the worship team, led youth group music, eschewed any (gasp) secular music for the final three years of high school, and felt horribly guilt-ridden the first time she got drunk. The part of me that would rush is the same part that lives in fear. I feel fortunate that this part of me comprises only a small fraction of the whole of me. There is no rush for me to sort out my beliefs, and it’s not unlikely that I’ll spend the entirety of the rest of my life doing so.

But what if you die before you sort them out? What if you’re wrong, and you go to hell?

Guess that’s a chance I’m willing to take. It’s a far more sensible option to me than holding on to something I don’t believe in my heart just because of someone else’s fearful superstition.