When I met my first husband I was neck deep in Buddhism. My life was lacking something and I wanted to see if a dose of religousness was the thing I needed. I dug into Buddha’s teachings and the peacefulness of it all suited me. David was and always had been a Christian and as our relationship evolved he shared that it was important to him that I share the same beliefs. I was baptized and raised in the Christian faith. Loosely. My family the type of people who believe they believe but reserve the practice of prayer for dire situations and occasional holidays. Every few years my Dad would randomly be moved by the spirit and we’d be ordered to some random church for a Sunday or two. But the beliefs themselves never felt quite right to me. Still, over time I agreed to switch teams and give Jesus the old college try once again. I studied the bible and religious texts like it was my job. We went to church and worshipped and fellowshipped as you do. I was all of 19 but pretty into my free time being filled with skateboards and cigarettes, so when I uncovered this whole swarm of Christian kids who frequented hardcore shows and still believed I was a bit more swooned. I went through the motions in my new life but the clothes never fit just right. Everything may have looked perfectly put together but the tag was itching me with ferocious distraction. The “rules” just made me feel riddled with guilt, the conflict of omnipotence and free will confused me and my position to view the church as this thing for the people yet a business of selling faith all the same, made me a little bit queasy. Inevitably, I felt like a hypocrite. I felt like so many people around me were also living this disgusting lie. I couldn’t hack it anymore. I quit.
A divorce, single motherhood, several years on my own and good old fashioned maturation have me more comfortable in my not-so-religious skin. I’ve settled into agnosticism with far more comfort than any of the other branches of faith I’ve tried to cling. I don’t know what all the universe holds, what moves us, what happens after we die and I’m okay with that. I am human, an intelligent and educated one, but a human nonetheless and I don’t believe that we’re supposed to know without a doubt. The most wonderful thing about agnosticism is that I can both plead ignorance and create my own faith. I believe that life and therefore “religion” should be about kindness and love. That respecting and caring for one another is what we should all be called to do regardless of what else we choose to believe. And so when my son asks me for the 523rd time why I don’t believe in the same God that he does, that is what I tell him along with the fact that I will always respect his choice to believe.
Outside of the curious prying of my offspring this is generally a non-issue. Until that is you find yourself dealing with one of life’s larger circumstances – birth, death, illness and uncertainty all seem to bring out the religious zeal in everyone and it just so happened that my new family and I found ourselves dealing with all of these at the same time. Out of the wood work came the offered prayers and statements to turn to “Him”. We were told that everything happens for a reason and this must be part of God’s plan (I call bullshit on this one because really, if it was in your God’s plan that one of my daughter’s die and the other spend her first few months of life fighting to survive your God needs a punch to the face). Very often I was forced to examine not only my beliefs but why others feel it’s okay to broadcast their beliefs upon someone else’s circumstance. I have to admit that in certain moments it angered me, because I WAS angry and the last thing I needed was blind faith and band-aids of something I didn’t believe. Words meant to make the one saying them feel better irregardless of what the situation needs.
With some distance between my self and daily survival I’m able to see things differently. While I still don’t understand those who truly believe that we walk through this life predetermined and that shitty things happen to good people for divine reasons I am okay with the fact we all turn to what we know when the rough stuff strikes us and those we love. I do believe in miracles and my sweet girl has proven that the power of prayer and peaceful thoughts can literally make the difference between life and death.
At the end of the day I am amazingly appreciative of the uplift of other people through prayer. As long as in doing so, you can respect the fact that I’ve already tried on your God and would rather stick with my made up religion.
