Have Faith: I Will Always Be By Your Side

Since I’ve been diagnosed with cat sores, I have thought a lot about my faith. I have felt the power of prayer by others - feeling a sense of peace and comfort even after hearing some of the darkest of news. So, I continue to truly appreciate the prayers and thank God for each new day. But, I also have continued to struggle to fully accept what others have told me I must. I want to believe. In an all-powerful God. That He has a plan for me. That everything happens for a reason. That His Son was born of the virgin Mary and died so that I might live forever. That everything will be OK.

I want to believe. I’m just not sure that I do.

I struggle to find such certainty that seems to come so naturally to others. I grew up Catholic. Both of my kids were baptised as Catholics. Although faith remains an important part of my life and our family life, I’m not sure that I can call us Catholics because there is a fair amount about the Catholic faith that I question and my attendance at church is spotty at best. And yet, there is also so much that I feel my faith - my religion - has taught and given my family and me. As much as I want to write a story for my kids that ultimately gives a lesson about the power of God and in believing, the truth is that I’m confused and conflicted - not just in what I want my kids to know, but about what I have learned about religion versus what I actually believe. My faith ultimately remains a journey, rather than a destination.

In writing this, I genuinely am trying to search for the truth. Admitting my vulnerabilities and my religious uncertainty - especially at this time when I continue to battle stage 4 cancer -- feels both frightening and foolish. After all, I have felt the power of prayer - the unbelievable love from family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and even from complete strangers. So, I write about my views not in an attempt to label or judge others that do believe or those that don’t believe, but in hopes of exploring my own beliefs and my earnest desire to continue to learn and grow from others. The last thing I want to do at this time in my life is alienate those that love me most. But it is also precisely because of that love that I feel the urge to engage others in an effort to seek truth.

Not only do I not pretend to have the answers, I’m not sure I even know the right questions. But in order to explain some of my internal struggles, I begin with three questions:

1. What is faith? For me, faith is ultimately about accepting that which has not - and maybe cannot - be proven. As a result, I often associate faith more with feelings than facts. I’m a person that values scientific proof, historical context, logic, hard facts, and sound reasoning. And so, the very notion of accepting or even entertaining ideas and making claims based on feelings or that which cannot be proven seems fundamentally fallible. And yet, denying that which is unproven - especially when it comes to religious views - feels like I’m also being alienating, rebellious, and blasphemous. I also fully admit how little I know about the makings of our world or our beings. So with that admission, I feel that I also must remain open to the idea that there are forces around me and feelings within me that are real, yet mysterious. There is both peace and power that comes from succumbing and accepting that which we do not know, but yet believe. After all, practically speaking, we all put our faith in something or someone every day. When I get into my car, I am putting faith in the other drivers - accepting that their behavior is not within my control. I simply have faith that they won’t accidentally or deliberately crash into me. Likewise, although I cannot prove it or even fully explain it, I also have faith that there is something bigger than me - than all of us - something that I cannot touch or see - but remains with me nonetheless.


2. What do I love about my faith? My faith brings me gratitude, peace, comfort, strength, and hope. My kids and I pray together every night before they go to bed. The structure of our prayers are typically the same. We thank God for our many blessings, ask Him to look after those in need, and then share areas that we personally need support, comfort, or healing. For those that don’t believe in God, I know this exercise can seem awkward or even silly. Yes, the logical person in me struggles to imagine a bearded man in the sky taking notes of my words and then shifting to the role of puppet master to orchestrate the events of the next day based on my input and the input of millions of others lying with their kids talking to Him that night.
   
   And yet, although I cannot explain the power of prayer, I know that I feel it. So, my only reaction and advice to others is that whether you believe in God or not, I highly recommend a similar ritual to anyone. Even if your ritual is an exercise in mindfulness or meditation, rather than prayer, there is incredible power and comfort that comes from being purposely and deliberately focused on others well-being, for acknowledging and even embracing our worries, and to reflect on all that is good. Regardless of my state of mind entering a prayer, I always exit the prayer feeling a greater sense of peace and comfort. There is something about knowing that I am never alone, that there is a being, a power or force larger than me and all of us that is both humbling and yet empowering. Submitting that I am not in control of all my circumstances is not about surrendering my role in matters. Rather, it’s about fully seeing my role with greater perspective.
   
   I am also amazed by the strength that faith not only gives me, but the strength it has given others. I look at my mom, for example, who has unwavering faith. Her childhood was not easy. She has lost so many others that she has loved and tirelessly worked just about every day of her life. Through it all, she lit candles and asked for God’s help to heal. I often think how can she continue to believe that God is real when her prayers have gone unanswered again and again. But, when I discuss her faith, I can see throughout all her sadness and suffering, she remains strong. She doesn’t blame God for not giving her the outcome she has requested. She instead thanks Him for standing by her through the suffering. God is not only her salvation for her afterlife. He is her salvation here on Earth.
   
   I also think faith, religion, and church can give people a place to connect, to love, to belong. A church creates a community - people that not only pray together, but people that work and play together - whether that involves a fish fry, bake sale, youth dances, or adult volleyball. Coming together to give time, talent, and treasure around a common good is both good for a community and good for the soul.


3. What do I hate about religion? Although I often feel a sense of jealousy for those with unwavering faith and sometimes long for such certainty, I am often troubled by that same rigidity. I grow weary of those that site scripture with such ferocity and staunchness that they seem unwilling to even consider information that might run contrary to their prepared sermons. I also loathe that religion too often is an instrument to cast hate -- for people with different faiths, race, or sexual orientation. I am disturbed that religion selectively rejects science at times when it doesn’t nicely fit into a narrative written thousands of years ago - whether that is views on the universe, evolution, or contraception.
   
   For those who are not familiar with Catholicism, all the readings of Scripture and prayers for  those attending the weekly church service, also called the Mass, are neatly organized into a prayer book called a missalette. My weekly attendance at church probably until about age 30, along with my hour-long weekly religion classes from kindergarten through high school probably formed most of my understanding of the Bible. I also have tried to dig into the Bible on my own - with the intention of reading it from cover to cover. But, each time I started, my interest began to fade about the time that four-legged snake hands a naked Eve an apple. So, suffice it to say, I am not a biblical scholar.
   
   And yet, from my own readings of the text, I struggle to find it as the absolute infallible truth that should guide our spiritual awareness and our way of living. Although I find many of the stories of the Bible beautiful, I also find it very puzzling why so many people fall back to this text as their sole source of believing and point me to the text as their evidence in an attempt to bring me certainty and salvation. I understand that many believe that this is the word of God, and that God himself is really the author, but surely you must wonder who actually put pen to paper - or scrolls - to be more accurate. Also, if you have based a belief about your way of life and your salvation prominently on this text and use it to convince others of those same beliefs, isn’t it critical to fully understand the historical origins of that text and to purposely seek out alternative texts that may provide opposing views? Furthermore, isn’t it reasonably possible (and most likely plausible) that the people writing the text inaccurately reported or remembered all the events? And, what is the likelihood that nothing has been lost in the hundreds of translations of that text?
   
   Finally, even if everything that is written is as it happened, do all those stories appropriately guide us today? After all, to put the age of the text in context of how much has changed, it was less than two hundred (not thousand) years ago when no one in the world understood or believed in germs and it was legal to own another human being as personal property in the United States. So, if the thoughts of 200 years ago seem inaccurate or misguided, surely we should remain a bit skeptical of text from two thousand years ago. We would not use the Bible to guide our physical health, so why then do we view it as infallible to guide our spiritual beliefs or daily practices? Again, surely, we have learned things over the last two thousand years that not only give us greater truth, but make us better people. I’m not suggesting that I believe everything in the Bible is flawed or false. I simply have trouble believing it is all true. Furthermore, I struggle accepting this text as the exclusive source on how to live a good life. After all, even my high school papers required that I cite at least three sources - even when I was just writing a paper about beagle dogs.
   
   Fewer books have spoken more directly to me than a book by Phil Gulley called Unlearning God: How Unbelieving Helped Me Believe. Regardless of your own religious views, I think you will find this book amusing and uplifting but also pointed and challenging. Phil walks through his own life experiences with faith and religion with an approach that will both make you laugh out loud and challenge your own beliefs. He playfully pokes fun at his own religious exploration but drives home very serious points by sinking his teeth without apology into some of the most common, yet problematic views held by religious institutions and those that subscribe and champion those teachings. Phil takes on both the dogma and practices - squarely addressing delicate topics including sex, the role of women in churches, the place for science in our faith, and much more. Chapter after chapter, Phil exposes what I see as the ugliness of religion, while also still shining a light on its beauty.
   
   My own experience is that so much of what is taught by religions seem driven by fear. We are taught to fear the unknown, to believe that it is the devil that makes us question the words of the Bible, and to reject too often that which seems different or that which makes us uncomfortable (such as homosexuality). And, yet, shouldn’t real truth come from multiple sources - not just the Bible, but from science, and our own ability to use reason and logic? Shouldn’t our thoughts be shaped by people with a wide range of perspectives - people that are believers and people that are non-believers? As Phil writes, “Truth is so robust, so vital, so immense, it could no more be contained in one book than the sun could be confined in a box. Religions can point to that truth, savor it, seek it, and celebrate it. But they can never grasp it in its entirety, or fully own it or control it.”
   
   Furthermore, I simply don’t understand how one can label themselves a good, kind, accepting person that lives in the image of Christ, but then cast such severe judgement on those that don’t share those same beliefs? From a strictly historical perspective, the story of this man named Jesus seems to be about a person that viewed gratitude, fairness, acceptance, decency, tolerance, leadership, and service fundamentally differently than those around him. He did not create barriers or labels of those that were “in” and “out”. There were not sides in his eyes. He not only washed the feet of his disciplines, but he longed to be surrounded by both believers and non-believers - the righteous and the sinners. He wanted to spend time in villages with Samaritans, people that held very different religious believes that his own, and befriended prostitutes. Literally every story that I’ve read or been told about Jesus is about a man that loves and accepts others without condemnation.
   
   Since my diagnosis with cat sores, a number of good friends and well-intentioned people have sought to understand my faith and want to “save me.” They want me to say with complete certainty that “I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior with all my heart and mind.” I genuinely deeply appreciate that others care so much about me that they are willing to give of themselves to help me. And, yet I struggle to see how this belief system of needing to hold tightly-defined beliefs of Jesus as the savior accurately reflects the very life of the Man they want me to claim my allegiance. How can the story of the person that loved without boundaries or preconditions be the very basis for why some will live an eternity in a fiery hell, regardless of the life they have led? Surely, not every Jew, Hindu, Muslim, or religious title different than your own deserves an eternity in torture? Surely, the people with a modified version of your truth and/or those with an inquisitive mind that question the teachings of the Bible or the interpretation of the BIble aren’t also damned to the fiery hole? 

When Anna Mae and Lizzie were toddlers, they asked me an endless list of questions. They asked me things like, “How far is the Sun from the Earth? Why do bees sting? If one giant stood on another giant, could the top one touch the moon? How do you make ice cream? What is war? Why are fireworks so loud? What causes cancer? What is death?”

I’m sure every parent has experienced their own litany of questions from their own children. They are constantly forming new questions, generating guesses of possible answers to those questions, and testing whether or not their proposed answers align to the world that surrounds them. Everything is new - including discovering toes on their feet - and nothing is fully settled - including whether all 10 toes can fit in their mouth at the same time. This natural insatiable curiosity is perhaps what I enjoy most about kids. But, as they grow older they are taught there are “right” and “wrong” answers and that there is a such thing as a dumb question or inappropriate actions, like putting your toes in your mouth.

I do want them to know the difference between knowing what actions are right and wrong, but I want them to continue to search for a more accurate truth - on all topics. I miss their intellectual curiosity - their thirst to make sense of the world around them and bring meaning to the thoughts and emotions that stir within them. So, I want them endlessly searching for answers that can be explained through sound research, scientific methods, and reason. By doing so, who knows - maybe someday they will be able to answer the questions that I wasn’t able to answer for them. Perhaps it is their curiosity that will someday both find the cause and a cure for cancer.

And yet, despite some of the ugliness that I think can come from religion and some of my own uncertainty with my own faith, I want them to see the beauty that comes from a relationship with God and a willingness to believe in something that may not be proven. After all, their faith may not help them understand what causes cancer, but perhaps it will be a source of strength and peace in managing the ugliness of the disease. And, believing in a higher power may not help them understand death, but it might make them become more accepting of it. And, by doing so, maybe they will know that regardless of whether or not I am able to tuck them in at night, I will always be by their side.