People are interested in what I believe, lately. I'm not sure why that should be, and it's not something I often discuss, since one of the few things that I DO firmly believe is that there are topics I don't voluntarily bring up in casual conversation, and religion tends to be one of them. Not because I'm not interested in belief systems -- yours or mine or that guy over there -- but because people feel so strongly about those belief systems that conversation becomes debate becomes argument, and I am conflict avoidant (mostly).
However.
This has come up enough recently that I feel like I need to say something about it. But before I do, a disclaimer:
***What you're about to read? That's just me and my perspective. It is NOT representative of any group, any particular blend of religion, or anything else. JUST ME AND MY TAKE. Got it?***
Moving on.
I was raised as a Baptist. It was a bad fit. I kept trying to make it a good fit.
I was, shall we say, wildly unsuccessful at playing the role of nice Baptist girl. Here's why: Mouthy. Sarcastic. Inquisitive. These things make me fun at parties, but not necessarily a good church-goer. It was, I think, a relief to everyone when I was finally -- politely, but firmly -- invited not to come back.
The message was clear: Jesus still loves you, but we are kind of tired of you.
The experience was liberating but also incredibly destabilizing; if I had loosely defined myself as Baptist for all those years, it was at least a definition ... and I HAD tried. I volunteered. I went to Bible camp. I sang whenever and wherever they asked. I taught Sunday School for a brief and spectacularly unsuccessful time.
The best way I can describe it is this -- Paul Simon sings: "The poor boy changes clothes and puts on aftershave to compensate for his ordinary shoes." I tried to compensate for my inability to assimilate into organized religion through dedicated participation. It didn't work so well, but it was SOMETHING. Now what did I have?
Not very much.
Okay, then.
People kept telling me I'd find another church -- look for another church! -- but it wasn't my thing. It works for some people, I know -- that's what they need to do to feel closer to their version and vision of God -- they feel his presence there. I'm happy for them if that works. It didn't work for me -- I think that, often, people use church to re-enact the most vicious portions of high school and do it claiming to be sanctioned by the God that they are worshipping.
(Having said that, I know that there are people who love their church families, who feel very welcomed and comforted by them, who have been able to lean heavily on them in times of complete crisis. I'm happy for those people and the fact that it works for them. Again, this is just me talking.)
I went about my churchless business. Things happened. Some were good. Some were terrible and painful. I also watched the way people treat each other. Sometimes, well. Sometimes, terribly and painfully.
Here's what I noticed: Some of the most compassionate and wonderful people I know have no clearly defined beliefs. Some of the kindest, most open hearted people I have had the pleasure of being friends with are people who would not be welcomed in the church that I knew.
That bothers me.
So if you want to know what I believe, here it is. I believe that there is a power MUCH bigger than myself. I think of it as God because that's what I'm used to. You don't have to... you don't have to think of it at all, if you don't want. (Though I have noted that the people who claim not to think of it are the ones who have thought about it the most.) I wouldn't say I'm religious. But I wouldn't say I'm without religious beliefs, as sketchy and unformed as they currently ... except that I am a firm believer in the fact that love heals what's broken ... and that is the central force and factor of the God I believe in.
Elizabeth Gilbert writes in Eat, Pray, Love that, when people ask her what kind of God she believes in, she says she believes in a magnificent God. I like that. A magnificent God.
That's what I've got.
Thanks for asking.
No comments:
Post a Comment