What if?

What if we have it backwards? What if we need the misery and God's just accommodating that need? What if we are born divided from God, but not because God divides Himself from us but because when we acknowledge there is a God, suddenly, we become so inferior that we need some way to make up the difference? What if God is like, "Alright, fine, be bad, and when you'll feel like that badness divides you from Me and you start to feel guilty about the horrible things you do, I'll give you some rules to make you feel connected again. And when you rebel against those rules, I'll give you some sacrifice procedures to follow. And when you still can't keep up, then I'll do something of which you won't be able to deny the power and significance. And then maybe you might see that I love you no matter what, even if it seems like your goal in life is to be a failure."

And God will judge us on the last day, and we assume that'll be horrible because we're so terrible, even if He loves us no matter what.

What if rather than creating a God because there is an innate need to explain things, we've actually created suffering to make sense of this world? Or rather promoted it? What if we need the suffering? What if we need the pain and the separation from God to make sense of this world?

As an agnostic, it did make more sense. It made sense to believe there was possibly no God and we're just alone, abandoned by nothing to live on this planet for no reason. It makes more sense at a core level when your life has no meaning and no purpose and very little meaningful love and is riddled with abandonment.

We do crave the suffering. We crave mistakes and regret. We call it rebellion, and even if it has a name, we refuse to admit that that's what we're about.

We want to be in control, even if that control is the equivalent to a passenger grabbing the wheel of a car somebody else is driving. It's pointless and requires far more effort than letting the driver get on with it. But we have trust issues, so even if we're swerving dangerously, we've got the wheel and that's all that matters.

So what if God's all, "Ok... Seatbelts. Let's do seatbelts." And then we swerve more. "Alright, airbags." And still, we come dangerously close to death because of our rebellion and need for control. The next step? Automatic driving sensors- an autopilot. We'll be in the driver's seat and we'll have the illusion of driving, but we won't be in control at all. And being that we'll feel like we're in control, we won't give any credit to the actual driver. Maybe we have to crash every now and then to realize what we're doing, what it's costing us.

And what if all those rules and the procedures are meant to amplify that rather than actually "get good with God"? What if they're just the brick wall we're meant to hit before finally realizing the grace and mercy of God?

The other day when my car's wheel almost fell off, I praised God a thousand ways till Tuesday for what He did. I pulled over just in time. And my entire life built up to that moment. All the knowledge I had acquired about cars culminated into me pulling over at that moment. Other women I know wouldn't have stopped. And so yeah, it might just be my knowledge and a bit of luck, but naw. God is good. And I was so grateful. He saved my life. Or at least my finances. And a heap of time and trouble. And probably the same for whomever else became a casualty of my stray wheel.

Fast forward a few days, and the topic of prayer comes up in conversation. And a few people have told me it's a gift I have. Stuff happens when I pray. Incredible stuff. But it terrifies me because I know it's not me. I know that it can disappear any second because it's not mine. And I dread people becoming dependent on my prayer for that reason. It glorifies me and it's not me. It's God. And so in this conversation, I told the person it may be a gift, but I'm in denial because I don't like the responsibility it brings. It's like a dichotomy. God answers my prayers and then people come to me instead of to God. And I point them to God, always, because I know it's not me, but what happens if I lose it? Will they all lose God? Will they all start to wonder about their faith?

God answers prayers. I just think that He answers mine more explicitly because I believe He will. And that's not to say the people who ask me to pray don't believe, but they just believe more through me. It's more explicit when you tell somebody to do something and you let it go and it happens outside of your control.

It's why I praised God for my wheel. It was completely out of my control. It could have been gnarled up suspension parts. It could have been thousands of dollars' worth of repairs. It could have been deadly. It was outside of my control, and God gave me the tools to fix it. He gave me knowledge, a jack and a tire iron. Not to mention the physical capacity to jack up a car and remove a wheel. He gave me the inquisitiveness to have asked questions in the past that led me to assess that my suspension was indeed perfectly safe and fine. Nothing was in my control. In that moment, it was clear that my life was not in my own hands at all.

And that's what I believe my prayer does for other people. It separates them from the consequences. It separates them in such a way that they can't accidentally take credit for the things that happen. They can't brush it off as coincidence or as their own accomplishment.

And I have to admit, every time a prayer is explicitly answered, I love it. I love that this girl who hated even the idea of God is now not only heard but heard in such a way that deeply affects those around her. I look at my neglected prayer list and everything ends up done. It's the most bizarre thing ever. It's the only "to do" list I have that actually gets wiped clean. It really is a beautiful thing.

And it scares me. It really does. And so I don't pray. And I deny that I have a gift. Because I really don't. I'm not more special than anybody else. And one day, without a doubt, I'll feel like God's not listening. Well, actually, I'll feel it again. And again. And I could either start the processes to "get right with God", or I can stop praying for the wrong things and ask God to help me pray for the right things.

I can stop trying to drive the car and instead, use this opportunity to become more aware of my surroundings, all while pointing out the things I love as He drives us by all the people and places He built for me and show my gratitude and appreciation by letting Him take care of it all for me.

Because He loves it all too.

And somehow, I think He wishes we didn't need the suffering to understand that.

But it's merely speculation. God is God and even if I won't presume to know what any of it is all about, He gave me the drive to wonder. :D

On faith and unknown unknowns...

One thing my meanderings into Christianity has brought me is a new perspective of truth. Pastors seem to like the elephant analogy where a bunch of blindfolded people represent all the religions, and each religion representative touches a part of the elephant and has their own version of the truth of what the elephant looks like based on their tiny fragment of it and combined, they form the whole picture, the one which the self-proclaimed outsider claims he sees when they don't. And they like it because it shows that the outsider thinks they know more about truth than everybody else, and it illustrates the sort of arrogant self-righteousness of that particular truth claim.

But from the other side, none of the blindfolded people will ever think they're the blindfolded ones either. Yes, the atheist or agnostic or Oprah can make a truth claim and we can laugh about how they don't think it's a faith-based truth claim because they think they have no faith in anything but science, but where does that leave us?

The problem is the categories. When you categorize a Christian, you say things like, "All Christians think they know where they go when they die," or, "Christians think they know what is God's will." But I don't know those things. I don't know where I go when I die. As a Christian I think I'm supposed to believe it's somewhere with God? But only when He decides it's over? I don't know.

[Whoever does the supposing in the "Christians are supposed to" statements and whether they are of any worth is beyond my realm of knowledge also.]

I used to be firm in my belief that death was a grocery store of possibilities. Aisle six had the possibility that we reincarnate. Aisle seven, that we reincarnate irrespective of time. I could be Jim Morrison in my next lifetime. Or my last one. Another was that we're one collective soul, split up into fractions, each fraction left to fend for itself and only when we work as a collective will we ever end this suffering. Another still was that we are all God on holiday. God was all, "I want to know what it's like," so he split himself into the billions of people and animals and things and is experiencing every breath of everything simultaneously. And when we die, we will be one again.

There are endless possibilities really. And even if I like my Jesus, I don't presume to know how it ends. Jesus says there's a paradise of some sort, but God also says, "Never presume to understand what I mean or intend because your little pea brain really has no idea." Paraphrased, of course.

My point being that Christianity has taught me a lot about truth in that none of us really has any idea what's going on. Not even the atheists. Not even the agnostics (like me) who think they know they have no idea what's really going on.

I do like that Bush quote, even if it makes me a social outcast- the one about how there are known knowns, known unknowns and unknown unknowns. Because he's right. Known knowns are science. Known unknowns are the breaches of faith and unknown unknowns are... well... who knows? And in my humble opinion, none of us can make a full truth claim until we can actually see all the unknown unknowns.

In the meantime, we have partial truths that end where faith begins.

All of us.

And that's my truth claim. :D

On white-knuckles and trust issues...

God will be glorified in me regardless of how I live my life. Whether it be through His mercy or through His justice, my life will be a means through which He will show Himself.

And in the meantime, my failings as a Christian don't change that. Nor do they change the world. I am not that important and my failures and faults aren't surprises either. If I am a piece of a puzzle, I can't suddenly change shape. Even if I rip off the sticky outy bits or patch up the dents to either better myself or ruin myself, God will still find all the pieces, clean me up and make me fit.

And there's nothing I can do to change that.

And in the meantime, the things I do, the habits I fall into, the things I refuse to ask for help with, all affect my joy. They're all to my own detriment. They don't affect my relationship with God on His end. Because you know what? Even if I conquer all those things, all the things I perceive to be detrimental to my relationship with God, they are but the tip of the iceberg. And to believe that I will be able to somehow be good enough for God one day is to underestimate God's righteousness and undeservingly amplify my own.

Repent. I think that's what I'm having trouble with. Repenting without action is a meaningless admission of flaws. Repenting with action is behavior modification, which often leads to the replacing of one behavior with another, rather than absolving the need for the behavior to begin with. It also seems like a way to control your salvation. So where's the line between futile, self-important repentance and real repentance? Asking God for help? Asking God to remove whatever it is? Asking God to be more satisfying than the benefits of the behavior? Asking God to change your heart?

But what if that behavior pattern or lifestyle is the only facet of your life in which you have any sort of certainty at all? What if that is where you're comfortable and you don't want it to be removed? What if without it, life just doesn't seem worth it?

Obviously, there are a whole bunch of underlying issues there. But they're there regardless. This is the hand we've been dealt and in some ways, it's a bad one. In some ways, we need something to hold onto for fear that if we let go to merely hold onto God, we'll get dropped.

I'm the girl who, when my dad would carry me on his shoulders as a tiny child, would grip his hair so hard in an effort to keep myself from falling that he'd get a headache and lose handfuls of hair. Every time. God knows I can't let go. Not yet anyway. And I like to assume that He knows I would if I could and I wish I could.

And in the meantime, I guess all that's left is to pray that God might protect me and watch over me while I make my mistakes so that eventually, I might realize He's got a tighter grip on me than any grip my tiny white-knuckled fists could ever muster on their own.

It's true...

"[God] is not glorified in begrudging submission."
- Matt Chandler

[... in the Culture & Theology talk thingy he gave last week on homosexuality. You can watch it here. It's long. Lonnnng. But it has funny bits... And some moments where you're like, "Yes! Thank you for saying that in a room full of churchies..." And only a couple of moments that really make you cringe. And by "you", I mean "left-wing, ultra liberal me". But I digress.]

It's true though. If you make God seem like a chore, how does that glorify God at all? How does that stir people up to challenge themselves and their faith/spiritual beliefs?

Nobody looks at a dog owner as they squat down to load up a baggy with dog doo and says, "Man, I want a dog."

Well, unless they're being sarcastic.

So if our life starts to revolve around those particulars which cause us to mumble and grumble incessantly, not only do the people around us not see God through us, but over time, we start to detach from God as well. Why follow a God who is nothing but a pain in the ass? Why worship a God who does nothing but impose impossible rules on us? Why adore a God who makes us feel like a constant failure in everything we do and feel?

And I think when we [I] start asking questions of that genre, that's when we've [I've] forgotten what it's all about.

On setting yourself up for failure...

Lately, I'm having a lot of trouble with the rules and exclusions of Christianity.

We spend our entire lives setting rules for ourselves, rules that not only do we intend to keep, but that are actually easy to keep. Often, they're even rules that would better us in some way, or at the very least, make our current lives a little more tolerable.

Take, for instance, milk. If I eat dairy products, not only do I have symptoms of lactose intolerance, but they also give me migraines. And once a migraine is triggered, I risk months and months of a low level migraine in its wake. So, obviously, I have to set a rule in my life: no dairy. Based on the consequences and the alternatives available to me, one would think that "no dairy" wouldn't be all that difficult a rule to follow.

And then you realize how milk products are in everything- bread, cookies, um... that's all I can think of right now, mainly because I've had a fierce craving for cookies for like a week now. But I digress.

So it's not that easy to avoid milk products, but still, it's doable. I've spent every day since I was ten years old watching out for oats in everything, and that too is difficult, but I got used to it. Along with the wheat intolerance that came later. Then the citrus intolerance. And so on and so on.

It is absolutely possible to do cut stuff out entirely.

Vegans do it...

Today, I was hungry, so I ate cheese. And then I decided that cheese wasn't enough, so I went to the store to buy supper materials, came home and on the way, ruined my appetite with milk chocolate.

Oh, yes.

It was tasty.

And it got me wondering. God is supposedly all about knowing how we operate and working around that. He's also all about the rules that are really to our own benefit. They benefit our soul. Right?

But how can this God know us at all if He supposedly decides who is in or out based on a set of intangible rules?

I can't even go a day without eating some sort of dairy product, and in the grand scheme of things, that's a drop in the bucket.

So then Jesus comes and He says He fulfilled the Law, and yet, establishes a whole bunch of new laws. Or, rather, they're the same ones, but since He fulfilled the old ones, they're new again...ish? And then He dies on the cross so that our sins are washed away and we can be with God... but only if we try hard enough? Only if we go to church? And let's not forget, we have to recruit new members for the army (otherwise they'll be excluded).

Ah, the exclusion part. That's where my agnosticism kicks in. I still can't imagine a God who creates us this way, ultimately sending us straight to hell. I can't imagine that some of the things we do to help each other out in this unbelievably messed up world are things on the list that also lead to damnation.

"There are no levels of sin," they say. "Sin is sin."

So if a rapist rapes, if a victim aborts, if a friend lies to protect the victim, sin is sin. And God abhors sin.

If a priest molests a kid, if a man moves in with his girlfriend, if a woman can't forgive her mother for the horrible pain she has caused, if two people of the same gender intertwine souls, sin is sin and it's all the same.

There's just no way. There's no way that a) God would give us this "sense of justice" that supposedly reflects His own and then have us believe that "sin is sin" and b) God cannot be God if He doesn't know that we're terrible at rules.

In theory, b) is easy to rationalize away. He knows we suck at rules, so that's why He sent Jesus. Right? Except that Jesus left us with rules, so that's kind of a circular argument.

Unless...

If it really is "just Jesus", then it makes sense. Then we aren't expected to follow any rules, rather they're guidelines and Jesus, being full of empathy after having lived in this busted up world, knows that it's almost impossible to stick to them all the time.

I mean, really, the guy only lived till thirty. It's kind of like Marilyn Monroe. You wonder if she had survived a little longer, would she have aged well? Would she have stayed sexy like Sophia Loren? Or would she have ended up a washed up mess with no dignity? And sure, Jesus was God so He had that, but depending on your view of Him, don't you wonder if He could have made it till ninety without sinning? Of course, as a good Christian, you have to answer, "yes," right?

But my point is if Jesus came here and endured this and has empathy for our situation as a result, why is everybody going to hell? It's so bizarre and twisted. Why, if our God is so loving, is the default hell? I don't get it.

God created us this way. God knows who we are. God knows what we'll do before we do it. God loves us. So then clearly it only makes sense that ultimately He's going to ship us to hell by the bus load? And don't forget- if you don't believe that, you're bumped up to the first bus.

Fantastic.

So yeah, lately, I'm having a lot of trouble with the rules and exclusions of Christianity. :D