All you who are weary and heavily burdened

"Sometimes the most urgent thing you can possibly do is take a complete rest." -- Ashleigh Brilliant

The unappealing vegetables

Mark Tidd of Webster, New York, describes an experience from his college days:

An old man showed up at the back door of the house we were renting. Opening the door a few inches, we saw his eyes were glassy and his furrowed face glistened with silver stubble. He clutched a wicker basket holding a few unappealing vegetables. He bid us good morning and offered his produce for sale. We were uneasy enough that we made a quick purchase to alleviate both our pity and our fear.

To our chagrin, he returned the next week, introducing himself as Mr. Roth, the man who lived in the shack down the road. As our fears subsided, we got close enough to realize it wasn't alcohol but cataracts that marbleized his eyes. On subsequent visits, he would shuffle in, wearing two mismatched right shoes, and pull out a harmonica. With glazed eyes set on a future glory, he'd puff out old gospel tunes between conversations about vegetables and religion.

On one visit, he exclaimed, "God is so good! I came out of my shack this morning and found a bag full of shoes and clothing on my porch."

"That's wonderful, Mr. Roth!" we said. "We're happy for you."

"You know what's even more wonderful?" he asked. "Just yesterday I met some people that could really use them."

Your faith has made you well

I decided to attend a charismatic pentecostal church on Sunday night. I'm not sure what drove me to go there (perhaps God led me!), but I was bored, and I always pass the church on my way home from work, so why not?

It was a rather interesting service. I thought the music was exceptionally good, and I even sang along to several of the old hymns (hell, I teared up during "How Great Thou Art"). On the flip-side, the speaker was a 20-something youth pastor with lots of passion, very little theological training, and a deep desire to seem cool and relevant (note to pastors everywhere: mentioning Facebook and Twitter during your sermon doesn't make you cool; it makes you a douchebag). By the 15-minute mark, I was playing BrickBreaker on my BlackBerry (notice how I just referenced my BlackBerry? How cool does that make me?).

Anyways, towards the end of his rambling, seemingly pointless rant, the hip youth pastor decided to have an altar call.

"If anyone needs healing tonight, come forward and be touched by the Lord! If anyone needs their circumstances changed, come forward and be touched by the Lord! If anyone needs Jesus in their life, come forward and be touched by the Lord!"

I love altar calls. Watching an ego-driven pastor invite his poor, unsuspecting audience to "make a public decision for Jesus" so that he can see the impact of his contrived, emotionally manipulative words is truly a sight to behold. And here it was, happening before my very eyes!

"Come to the altar! For restoration! For change! For healing! Yes, God wants to heal you! God can heal you! God will heal you!"

There was lots of yelling, and lots of people were crying, and I felt a mixture of fear, confusion, and embarrassment.

And then I saw them. A young married couple I hadn't spoken to in almost a decade. Old acquiantances. People I used to eat with, pray with, and minister with.

I noticed the husband first. He looked pretty much the same: young, strong, attractive. A beautiful, full head of hair. He was always such a joyful man, always so vibrant and full of life. But something had changed. Something wasn't right. Gone was the excited smile, the childlike exuberance, the sense of wonder. My old friend looked like a man on the brink of nervous breakdown. His face was downcast. His cheeks were tear-stained and red. His eyes... shut.

Moments later, I caught a glimpse of his wife. She was tinier than I remembered, much frailer. And she was completely bald.

Cancer is such an awful fucking thing.

The young woman stood up, slowly made her way to the front of the church, and was instantly surrounded by people who began to pray for her. They lifted their voices upward, almost in unison, begging God for divine intervention, pleading for a miracle.

They commanded it, in Jesus' name.

--

Eventually, the service came to an end. I wandered over to the husband, and we shared an embrace.

"It's been too long," he said. "I hope you're doing well."

A moment passed.

"She doesn't have very much time left."

Hesitant faith

"Those who believe that they believe in God, but without passion in their hearts, without anguish in mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, without an element of despair even in their consolation, believe in the God idea, not God himself." -- Miguel de Unamuno

This generation shall not pass away

A friend of mine is convinced that by the middle of the century, fundamentalist Christianity in North America will be on the brink of extinction.

I couldn't agree more.

The reasons for this are plentiful, and the warning signs are obvious: Young people are increasingly rejecting the outdated faith of their parents. Science is continually teaching us new things about the origins of the universe. Sane, rational human beings are looking at their homosexual friends and neighbors and wondering, "Why, exactly, am I supposed to be afraid of these people?" The list goes on.

People are no longer willing to accept a belief system that discriminates against others, that imprisons the soul. Anyone who takes an honest look at the superiority claims of fundamentalist Christianity has no choice but to reject the religion. If the options are "accept Scripture as inerrant" or "don't accept it at all", most people will choose to not accept it at all. A third option -- "accept Scripture as a product of spiritual men trying to understand the world via myth" -- is hardly ever discussed.

This is my struggle, and the struggle of millions of others. We have come to realize that, despite all the good it accomplishes, fundamentalist Christianity teaches an entirely prejudiced and bigoted approach to life. We have come to realize that the notion of a loving God who mercilessly tortures people for following the wrong version of him is absolutely preposterous.

For some, it's a liberating revelation, a reason to celebrate and reject religion altogether. For others, the discovery is heartwrenching. Many of us still want to believe in an Almighty Creator. We still want to follow the Christ Ideal. We want to be part of a faith community that is inclusive and honest and true. We want to sing spiritual songs and psalms and hymns, to explore prayer and silence and meditation. We want to find common ground with Muslims and Buddhists and atheists and New Age practitioners. We want to grow in love and compassion and kindness. We want to experience a Sacred Romance.

And it pains us to see how how fundamentalist Christians -- the modern day Pharisees -- are murdering God, all over again.

Fatigue

"The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere." -- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

And puts the glory out to hide

I watched a fairly remarkable lightning display from the balcony of my apartment last night.

Thunderstorms have always brought me a deep measure of joy and gladness. As a young child, I would cuddle up next to my parents in front of the big window in our living room whenever a major weather system blew in from the west. I'd watch the fire bolts dance across the night sky, full of awe and wonder and innocence. Dad would wrap his arms around me and cover my ears for the inevitable thunder crash and mom would just smile and laugh. She'd say, "it's getting pretty late, we really should get to bed", but dad and I would put up a fight and beg for one more minute, one more jagged illumination on the horizon.

Life can be hard, and lonely, and painful. Over the past few years, I've become increasingly cynical and jaded towards religion, society, and people in general. Since starting this blog two months ago, I've experienced a profound sense of isolation and brokenness in my personal life, and this feeling has intensified in recent weeks. My posts have been sarcastic, demeaning, and in many instances, angry.

Nothing really changed last night. I still feel confused and frustrated and lost. I still think fundamentalist Christians are insane. I still doubt God. But for a few fleeting moments, I recaptured that childhood sense of awe and wonder and innocence. For a few fleeting moments, I felt like a young boy, sitting on his father's lap, laughing at the beauty of creation. For a few fleeting moments, it was well with my soul.

For the Bible tells me so

An absolute must-see film.

Fear not

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature." -- Anne Frank

If it be your will

There's something rather stirring about this performance, don't you think? Antony Hegarty is a 37-year old transgendered musician whose otherworldly voice should be appreciated by anyone with ears to hear. Watching him belt out this beautiful prayer (originally composed by Leonard Cohen) moved me deeply.

The lyrics, in full:

If it be your will
That I speak no more
And my voice be still
As it was before
I will speak no more
I shall abide until
I am spoken for
If it be your will

If it be your will
That a voice be true
From this broken hill
I will sing to you
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing
From this broken hill
All your praises they shall ring
If it be your will
To let me sing

If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well

And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will

It's a shame that Antony's blatant homosexuality disqualifies him from 'following Jesus'. An utter shame.

Being poor

Profoundly moving.

Good riddance

"Those people who tell me that I'm going to hell while they are going to heaven somehow make me very glad that we're going to separate destinations." -- Martin Terman

What would Jesus not do?

Fantastic.

Breathe peace

"We say, then, to anyone who is under trial, give Him time to steep the soul in His eternal truth. Go into the open air, look up into the depths of the sky, or out upon the wideness of the sea, or on the strength of the hills that is His also; or, if bound in the body, go forth in the spirit; spirit is not bound. Give Him time and, as surely as dawn follows night, there will break upon the heart a sense of certainty that cannot be shaken." -- Amy Carmichael

Ignorance is bliss

"I do not feel obligated to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reasons, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use." -- Galileo Galilei

Shut up

"It is great wisdom to know how to be silent and to look at neither the remarks, nor the deeds, nor the lives of others." -- St. John of the Cross

Catch me if you can!

And you thought I was kidding about young people fleeing the Christian faith.

Growing pains

"The concept of a Supreme Being who childishly demands to be constantly placated by prayers and sacrifice and dispenses justice like some corrupt petty judge whose decisions may be swayed by a bit of well-timed flattery should be relegated to the trash bin of history, along with the belief in a flat earth and the notion that diseases are caused by demonic possession. Ironically, the case for the involuntary retirement of God may have been best stated by one Saul or Paul of Tarsus, a first-century tentmaker and Pharisee of the tribe of Benjamin, who wrote, 'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things' (I Corinthians 13:11). Those words are no less relevant today than they were two thousand years ago." -- John J. Dunphy

It is well

"When we become aware that we do not have to escape our pains, but that we can mobilize them into a common search for life, those very pains are transformed from expressions of despair into signs of hope." -- Henri Nouwen

The paranoia complex

"The constant assertion of belief is an indication of fear." -- Jiddu Krishnamurti

This phenomenon can manifest itself in a variety of ways. The politician who passionately expounds family values might be hiding a secret affair; the woman who constantly raves about how much she loves her husband might be overcompensating for some inner regret; the preacher who perpetually talks about the goodness of God might be covering up his own unbelief.

I know a married couple who is currently going through a trial separation. They've been married for several years, but have never been truly happy. Sure, they go church every Sunday, smiling and holding hands and praising the Lord. They write odes to one another on the internet, for all the world to see! The woman posts daily Facebook updates about how she "has the best husband in the world!" But it's all a show. It's all superficial, shallow, and fake.

I often wonder how many religious people experience a similar struggle -- not with their spouse, but with their God. Whenever I hear a pastor (or any Christian, for that matter) assert that the Bible is perfect, that it is dictated by God, and that anyone who believes otherwise is a threat to Christianity and doomed to the fires of hell, I can't help but think to myself, "I bet this guy wishes he was an atheist."

Of course, he can't be an atheist. He can't be agnostic. He can't read the Bible as allegory or accept other faith traditions. He's got a wife, a family, and a job that pays the bills. His entire life is built upon his confidence in the Bible. His entire existence is predicated upon whether or not he's right. If God is actually bigger and more complicated than he lets on, if parts of Jesus' life story are actually copied from pagan religions, if his congregation actually learns to think for themselves, he loses everything.

Israeli musician Eef Barzelay has a verse in one of his songs that goes, "And they all think I'm stupid, I can see it in their eyes. But I know what's inside their hearts, I penetrate their lives. Sometimes it gets me crazy, but I keep my feelings hid. Cause I know deep inside they're only frightened little kids."

Well, some of us aren't afraid to embrace that frightened little child within. We're not afraid to admit that we don't have a clue about the workings of God and the mystery of the universe. We're not afraid to doubt, to question, to probe. We're not afraid to seek a different, better path, a path that actually makes sense, a path that is inclusive and truly generous.

If the constant assertion of belief is an indication of fear, then the constant assertion of doubt must be an indication of courage.

Know hope.

Up on the ladder

In his book "Losing Faith in Faith", preacher-turned-atheist Dan Barker writes:

Every Christian has a particular hierarchy of doctrines and practices, and most Christians arrange their hierarchy in roughly the same manner, with the existence of God at the top, the deity of Jesus just below that, and so on, down to the bottom of the list where you find things like wearing jewelry or makeup in church. What distinguishes many brands of Christianity is where they draw their line between what is essential and what is not.

Extreme fundamentalists draw the line way down at the bottom of the list, making all doctrines equally necessary. Moderates draw the line somewhere up in the middle of the list. Liberals draw the line way up at the top, not caring if the Bible is inerrant or if Jesus existed historically, but holding on to the existence of God, however he or she is defined, holding on to the general usefulness of religion, and to rituals, which many people claim to need despite its irrelevance to reality, to give structure or meaning to life.

Put another way: it's as if we're all standing on a giant metaphorical ladder. Fundamentalist Christians are at the top and liberal Christians are at the bottom. Problem is, regardless of where a person exists on this ladder, he/she invariably feels the need to justify his/her position and spew vitriolic hatred towards anyone located on a different rung.

But in the words of master theologian Thom Yorke:

I've been climbing up this ladder
I've been wasting my time
Up on the ladder, out of time to escape
Up on the ladder, we wait for your mistake
Up on the ladder, trying to crawl out the way
Up on the ladder, you're all the fucking same

Indeed we are.

RE: Belief

"Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it." -- Buddha

Like filthy rags

"Which is more moral, helping people purely out of concern for their suffering, or helping them because you think God wants you to do it?"

It's no secret that the Christian religion thrives on guilt and fear. Even among more progressive, postmodern (or, emergent, as the cool kids say) churches, parishioners are constantly inundated with a message of obligation. We're taught that God needs us, that we're his "hands and feet" on earth, that there are certain things we should be doing and certain things we shouldn't be doing. We're told that Christian service is a noble endeavor. Every year, thousands of North American youth groups go on mission trips to Africa and South America and other heathen lands because Jesus commanded us to "go into the all the world and rape cultures of their heritage." Young teenagers are taught that third-world citizens are uneducated, unsophisticated drones who are doomed to an eternity of hellfire unless they renounce their silly gods and accept our True God. And it's your job to make that happen! For impressionable children raised in the church, this is an awful lot of pressure.

Christian authors and pastors and speakers are motivated by contrition. It's what attracts attention, pulls people in, and makes those people cry. I'm convinced that ministers feed off the tears of their congregation: If we're making them cry, we're burdening their hearts; and if we're burdening their hearts, we can manipulate them to do more things for Jesus; and if we can manipulate them to do more things for Jesus, our congregation will grow; and if our congregation grows, so does our fame/ego/bank account.

Everyone has a different method. Some pastors take the direct approach: these are the guys who explicitly berate their listeners with guilt, beseeching you to think about how much God gave up for you. He sacrificed his Son! Jesus hung on the cross and bled and died! It was awful and painful and he did it for you! He loves you that much! Now, what will you sacrifice for him?

Trendier pastors prefer a different avenue: they aren't as "in your face" about it, but they want to remind you that you are loved. You are accepted. You are cherished. No matter how bad you are, God loves you. And you're a bad person, aren't you? You've done some naughty, terrible, shameful things. You must feel really dirty. You must feel like a whore. Well, you're not. Because Jesus is here. He's holding you in his arms. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. Now, what will you do for him?

Ultimately, the end-goal is the same: Christian leaders want people to feel a sense of obligation to God. Because if people don't feel a sense of obligation to God -- if they don't feel guilty -- they're not going to follow him.

A good friend of mine is an adamant atheist. He has no use for faith, or Christianity, or Jesus. He's too busy volunteering at a downtown homeless shelter, caring for the impoverished and underprivileged. He's too busy petitioning the government to reduce third-world debt. He's too busy raising money to help fight AIDS in Africa.

My friend has never set foot in a church. His parents raised him to be socially conscious, to care for the planet, to be mindful of those who have nothing. His parents raised him to be a good person, not because that's what God commanded them to do, but because they're genuinely concerned about the plight of humanity. These folks are the most moral, upstanding citizens I have ever met. And according to every single Christian I know, they're also destined to spend eternity in hell.

What a messed up religion, indeed.

A drunkard for pain

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?" -- Epicurus

RE: Good deeds

One last snippet from the Sullivan/Harris conversation and then I'm done, I swear.

Andrew writes:

I have met fundamentalists whose convictions are extreme but whose spiritual humility nonetheless leads them to great tolerance for dissent and doubt among others and great compassion for the needy. I have met those who are utterly uncompromising on the issue of sexual morality and yet have never shown me anything but interest, empathy and friendship. I have seen fundamentalists do amazing work for the poor and forgotten - driven entirely by their fundamentalist fervor. Try and think of how many souls and bodies the Salvation Army has saved, for example, how many sick people have been treated by doctors and volunteers motivated solely by religious conviction, how many homeless people have been taken in and loved by those seized by the fundamentalist delusion.

I disagree with many of fundamentalism's theological assumptions; when fundamentalism enters politics, I will resist it mightily as an enemy of political and social freedom; when it distorts what I believe to be the central message of Jesus - love and forgiveness - I will criticize and expose it. But when I see it in the eyes and face of a believer, and when she glows with the power of her faith, and when that faith translates into love, I am unafraid and uncritical. I know I cannot know others' hearts; I cannot know their souls. I know further that the mystery of the divine will always elude me; and that beneath what might appear as a bigot may be a soul merely seized by misunderstanding or fear or even compassion. My sense of the fallibility of human reason and the ineffability of God's will leads me not to dismiss these "extremists" as fools or idiots, but to wonder what they have known that I may not know, even as I worry about their potential for evil as well as good (a potential we all have, including you and me).

Sam's counter argument:

You claim that many fundamentalists are tolerant of dissent and capable of friendship with you despite their dogmatic views about sex. You also remind me that many devoutly religious people do good things on the basis of their religious beliefs. I do not doubt either of these propositions. You could catalogue such facts until the end of time, and they would not begin to suggest that God actually exists, or that the Bible is his Word, or that his Son came to earth in the person of Jesus to redeem our sins. I have no doubt that there are millions of nice Mormons who are likewise tolerant of dissent and perfectly cordial toward homosexuals. Does this, in your view, even slightly increase the probability that the Book of Mormon was delivered on golden plates to Joseph Smith Jr. (that very randy and unscrupulous dowser) by the angel Moroni? Do all the good Muslims in the world lend credence to the claim that Muhammad flew to heaven on a winged horse? Do all the good pagans throughout history suggest that Mt. Olympus was ever teeming with invisible gods? As I have argued elsewhere, the alleged usefulness of religion--the fact that it sometimes gets people to do very good things indeed--is not an argument for its truth. And, needless to say, the usefulness of religion can be disputed, as I have done in both my books. As you may know, I've argued that religion gets people to do good things for bad reasons, when good reasons are actually available; I have also argued that it rather often gets people to do very bad things that they would not otherwise do. On the subject of doing good, I ask you, which is more moral, helping people purely out of concern for their suffering, or helping them because you think God wants you to do it? Personally, I'd much prefer that my children acquire the former sensibility. On the subject of doing bad: there are, at this very moment, perfectly ordinary Shia and Sunni Muslims drilling holes into each other's brains with power tools in the suburbs of Baghdad. What are the chances they would be doing this without the "benefit" of their incompatible religious identities?

"Which is more moral, helping people purely out of concern for their suffering, or helping them because you think God wants you to do it?"

The carcass of Christianity

It hasn't been a particularly productive morning. Rather than doing work, and rather than blogging while pretending to do work, I've been poring over those essays I discovered yesterday afternoon. I'm absolutely mesmerized.

Of particular interest was this back-and-forth, initiated by Harris:

Rather than pick over the carcass of Christianity (or any other traditional faith) looking for a few, uncontaminated morsels of wisdom, why not take a proper seat at the banquet of human understanding in the present? There are already many very refined courses on offer. For those interested in the origins of the universe, there is the real science of cosmology. For those who want to know about the evolution of life on this planet, biology, chemistry and their subspecialties offer real nourishment. (Knowledge in most scientific domains is now doubling about every five years. How fast is it growing in religion?) And if ethics and spirituality are what concern you, there are now scientists making serious efforts to understand these features of our experience-both by studying the brain function of advanced contemplatives and by practicing meditation and other (non-faith-based) spiritual disciplines themselves. Even when it comes to compassion and self-transcendence, there is new wine (slowly) being poured. Why not catch it with a clean glass?

To which Sullivan responds:

Why would I want to forget all of that precious inheritance--the humility of Mary, the foolishness of Peter, the genius of Paul, the candor of Augustine, the genius of Francis, the glory of Chartres cathedral, the haunting music of Tallis, the art of Michelangelo, the ecstasies of Teresa, the rigor of Ignatius, the whole astonishing, ravishing panoply of ancient Christianity that suddenly arrived at my door, in a banal little town in an ordinary family in the grim nights of the 1970s in England.

You want to be contingency-free? Maybe you need a richer slice of contingency. There is more wisdom, depth, range, glory, nuance and truth in my tradition than can be dreamt of in your rationalism. In answer to your question, "why not leave all this behind?" my answer is simply: why on earth would I? Why would any sane person abandon such an astonishingly rich inheritance that civilizes, informs, educates, inspires and then also saves? If faith were to desert me, I may be forced to leave. But even then, the wealth of that human inheritance would inform me and make my life worth living. I would cling to and celebrate this cultural inheritance, even if the faith that made it possible has waned for me.

To which Harris fires back:

I do not deny that there is something at the core of the religious experience that is worth understanding. I do not even deny that there is something there worthy of our devotion. But devotion to it does not entail false claims to knowledge, nor does it require that we indulge our cultural/familial/emotional biases in an unscientific way. The glass can get very clean--not sterile perhaps, not entirely without structure, not contingency-free, but cleaner than many people are ready to allow. One need not believe anything on insufficient evidence to experience the "ecstasies of Teresa" (or those of Rumi, for that matter). And those of us with the benefit of a 21st century education can be more parsimonious in drawing conclusions about the cosmos on the basis of such ecstasy. Indeed, I think we must be, lest our attachment to the language of our ancestors keep their ignorance alive in our own time.

Seriously, carve out some time in your schedule tonight and read the entire discussion. Have I ever steered you wrong before?

God, faith, and fundamentalism

Highly recommended: this intelligent, civil exchange -- and this follow-up conversation -- between best-selling author Sam Harris (atheist) and author/blogger Andrew Sullivan (religious moderate). A long read, but definitely worth your time and effort.

Brazen doubt

"Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear." -- Thomas Jefferson

What might have been lost

"Christianity has been buried inside the walls of churches and secured with the shackles of dogmatism. Let it be liberated to come into the midst of us and teach us freedom, equality and love." -- Minna Canth

One of the main reasons I left full-time ministry several years ago was because I felt suffocated by the "shackles of dogmatism". In the eyes of most Christians, being theologically curious is absolutely wrong. To openly question certain parts of Scripture, to doubt the veracity of particular Biblical stories, to nurture and accept people of other faith traditions, all of these things are frowned upon within the confines of the Christian church. Anyone who argues otherwise is deluding themselves.

I once had a Christian minister tell me that tolerance -- yes, tolerance! -- is the single greatest threat facing Christianity in the 21st century: "We can't just go around condoning inappropriate beliefs and behavior," he said, "That's not what Jesus taught. He is the way, and the truth, and the life." A different Christian minister, upon discovering my affinity for homosexuals and the GLBT community, cancelled my speaking appearance at his church. Within the hierarchy of the Christian religion, there is no room for diversity; either you fall in line, or you fall out of it altogether.

The Christian faith is a perplexing dichotomy. On the one hand, it teaches selfless love, kindness, compassion, and forgiveness; on the other hand, it proclaims an entirely narrow, prejudiced, hateful, and self-serving message. Salvation is only available to a select few. Those who put their trust in Christ will be saved. Those who put their trust in science or Guru Dev or Allah will be tortured for eternity in a fiery furnace. Good works are useless (unless you're a Christian, in which case, good works are an overflow of your relationship with Jesus). Being gay is awful. Having sex before marriage is deplorable. Enjoying alcohol is despicable. The list of restrictions goes on, and on, and on.

It's no wonder that young people are fleeing Evangelical churches in droves and seeking refuge in the Anglican and United and Presbyterian faith traditions, in New Age books, in the teachings of Buddha and Ramakrishna and Tao Te Ching. It's no wonder that mainstream Christianity -- as we know it -- is rapidly dying. A religion that restricts the rights and freedoms of others (women and homosexuals, to name a couple) deserves to perish. A religion that is permeated by fear, guilt, and shame deserves be ignored. A religion that boldly proclaims, "God loves you... but if you reject him, you're going to burn forever", deserves to be abolished.

Is there a Christianity for the rest of us? A Jesus for the non-religious? I don't know. But I do know that people are longing for something deeper, for something profound. We are hungry for justice and truth and a spiritual experience that transcends reality. We are yearning for the Divine. We are searching, and seeking, and stubbornly clinging to our confusion. And we are hoping that someday, somehow, our thirst will be quenched.

Process of elimination

"I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours." -- Stephen Roberts

My creed

Written by Robert G. Ingersoll (1833-1899):

To love justice, to long for the right,
to love mercy,
to pity the suffering, to assist the weak,

to forget wrongs and remember benefits,
to love the truth, to be sincere,
to utter honest words, to love liberty,
to wage relentless war
against slavery in all its forms,

to love family and friend,
to make a happy home,
to love the beautiful in art, in nature,
to cultivate the mind,
to be familiar with the mighty thoughts
that genius has expressed,
the noble deeds of all the world;

to cultivate courage and cheerfulness,
to make others happy,
to fill life with the splendor of generous acts,
the warmth of loving words;

to discard error, to destroy prejudice,
to receive new truths with gladness,
to cultivate hope,
to see the calm beyond the storm,
the dawn beyond the night,
to do the best that can be done
and then be resigned.

Structured to believe

The past few years have been a profound spiritual struggle for me. I used to be a passionate, outgoing Christian who sought to evangelize everyone I met. Now, I sometimes find myself on the brink of agnosticism.

However, I also find that I very much want to believe in God; I want to be a generous, peaceful, joyous, and spiritual human being. Granted, believing in God isn't a prerequisite for being a good person (often the two are antonymous), but there's something rather enlightening, serene, and beautiful about faith. I like the idea that we’re not alone in this universe, that something -- or Someone -- is out there: looking after us, caring for us, loving us.

I was recently struck by something in this blog post:

An interesting angle you haven't mentioned concerns how belief systems concretely affect the development of the brain. People raised in cultures with distinct words for certain color tones see them more clearly than those in which just one word suffices (the most well-known example is Russian, which has one word for marine blue and another for sky blue -- but there are many others). So believers, having been raised in a cognitive environment in which this mystical experience was ritualistically repeated presumably have brain architecture that differs in significant ways from those raised outside the Church. This could explain the special pain of being a lapsed-believer. Your brain is structured to believe, but your intellect won't let you.

What a remarkable insight. Having been raised in the church and having been a 'minister of the Gospel' for many years, I'm hardwired to believe in God. But logic, reason, and intellectualism are suddenly standing in my way.

Thus, the battle rages within my soul.

This is the table

From last night's liturgy:

All who are joyful, come
All who are broken, come
If you have faith, come
If you have none, come
Come to the table
Jesus would meet you here
Come

Give yourself away

"For those who wish to climb the mountain of spiritual awareness, the path is selfless work. For those who have attained the summit of union with the Lord, the path is stillness and peace." -- Bhagavad Gita

I reconnected with an old friend today. We talked about what it means to be a selfless human being, what it means to be truly alive. I am a very agitated, unsettled person; very few things bring me a sense of lasting joy and peace. I'm happy when I get to visit my parents, or when I lie under the stars, or when I walk around in the pouring rain, or when I sit silently in nature. But beyond that, most of the elation I experience is profoundly shallow.

I know a guy who volunteers three times a week at a homeless shelter. He is one of the most joyful people I have ever known. This is not a coincidence.

Don't need a middle man

Sometimes I use curse words when I pray.

The full picture

"If I were not an atheist, I would believe in a God who would choose to save people on the basis of the totality of their lives and not the pattern of their words. I think he would prefer an honest and righteous atheist to a TV preacher whose every word is God, God, God, and whose every deed is foul, foul, foul." -- Isaac Asimov

Repressed honesty

"'Faith' means not wanting to know what is true." -- Friedrich Nietzsche

Where in the world are you now?

I've been asking this question a lot lately.

From the lyrics:

I've been looking in churches and looking in bars
Thought that I saw you in the oncoming cars
It was your reflection cast off by the light
And into the sky of this dark city night

Seek, and you will find.

RE: Faith

From the comments section of this post, a guy named Ryan says that faith is... "the thing that requires me to actively think outside of myself, question logic, live selflessly, and be able to hear a faint voice in a loud world."

I don't think I've ever heard a more beautiful definition.

Letting go of certainty

"Skepticism is the beginning of faith." -- Oscar Wilde

Thunder clapped

I have a friend who thinks that doctrine and theology will save his soul. He thinks that when he dies and appears before 'the judgment throne', God will crack open his skull and examine his brain to see whether or not his beliefs were correct. My friend thinks every word in the Bible is literally true, literally history, and that anyone who thinks differently isn’t really 'saved', isn’t really Christian. Doctrine is his salvation.

My friend and I differ on a lot of things. Theologically, we couldn't be further apart. He has been a fundamentalist, conservative Christian his entire adult life; I've embarked on a confusing and sometimes depressing spiritual journey over the past few years. I wish I could be as stubbornly certain about God as my friend is, but for whatever reason, I am not.

One of my favorite Bible stories is the parable of the sheep and the goats, as told by Jesus in the Gospel according to St. Matthew. Here, Jesus judges the nations not by their belief system, their church attendance, or whether or not they once said a prayer asking him into their hearts. Here, Jesus judges the nations based upon how they have lived; more specifically, how they have cared for, looked after, and loved "the least of these". Not how they have loved themselves, or their families, or their friends, but how they have loved the poor, the outcast, and the homeless.

I honestly don't know how a person achieves salvation. I don't even know what 'salvation' means. But there's something about this parable that just makes sense: Actions speak louder than words. Love and compassion trump doctrine and theology. Believing certain concepts is fine and wonderful, but it doesn't make a person religious, or right, or 'saved'. Talking about God and theorizing about God and singing songs about God is a great way to pass time, but at the end of the day, who cares? At this very moment, there's a man twenty feet from my office begging for his next meal -- and I'm supposed to worry about whether or not Adam and Eve actually existed? Does anybody really think God is that petty?

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."

Counting the cost

"The hungry need bread and the homeless need a roof; the oppressed need justice and the lonely need fellowship; the undisciplined need order and the slave needs freedom... To allow the hungry to remain hungry would be blasphemy against God and one’s neighbor, for what is nearest to God is precisely the need of one’s neighbor." -- Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Mother#$%@er!

Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt. Unless you're having a bad day, in which case, swear your brains out.

There's no one like you

"Even those who have renounced Christianity and attack it, in their inmost being still follow the Christian ideal, for hitherto neither their subtlety nor the ardour of their hearts has been able to create a higher ideal of man and of virtue than the ideal given by Christ of old." -- Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The Lord speaketh

"A thorough reading and understanding of the Bible is the surest path to atheism." -- Donald Morgan

But for My people to pursue

There's something about stained glass windows and old, dusty pews that brings a sense of peace and serenity to my soul. With that in mind, I wandered into an Anglican Church three blocks from my apartment last night. The service was quite beautiful, and I was struck by something the priest said prior to administering Communion:

"The Table of God is made ready for those who love Him, and those who want to love Him more. So, come. Whether you have much faith or little, whether you've tried to follow or are afraid you've failed. Come."

In response to this post, a young gentleman wondered why -- in light of my obvious disdain and frustration with all things 'Christian' -- I even bother attending church in the first place.

My answer: I do not know.

But if I had to wager a guess, I'd say it's because my heart desperately wants to experience God. Week after week, I sit next to people who passionately believe a bizarre version of history, and I feel envious of them. I sit next to people who -- despite all of their awful prejudices -- are more gracious, giving, and compassionate than I could ever hope to be. I sit there, singing contrived songs, listening to shallow sermons, mouthing artificial prayers, and I think to myself, 'I wish this was real.'

It's as if there's an epic tug-of-war taking place between my emotions and my intellect, my heart and my brain. I want to believe, but I cannot. I want to 'follow Christ', but I cannot. I want to walk away from church, but I cannot.

"The Table of God is made ready for those who love him, and those who want to love him more. So, come."

I shall.

To daydream about God

"There's something in every atheist, itching to believe, and something in every believer, itching to doubt." -- Mignon McLaughlin

Theologians

They don't know nothing, about my soul.

Change or die

"I could not believe that anyone who has read this book would be so foolish as to proclaim that the Bible in every literal word was the divinely inspired, inerrant word of God. Have these people simply not read the text? Are they hopelessly misinformed? Is there a different Bible? Are they blinded by a combination of ego needs and naivete?" -- Bishop John Shelby Spong

Help me believe in anything

I attended a small Baptist church this past Sunday. The singing wasn't particularly in-tune, or lively, or good, but that didn't matter to the congregation. The elderly woman beside me was moved to tears on three separate occasions, and each time, she exclaimed to the heavens (or, more accurately, the ceiling), "Yes, Jesus! I believe in you, Jesus! Yes!"

I often poke fun at fundamentalist Christians. I'm not proud of this fact, and I don't really enjoy being being a self-righteous jerk. It's just that, well, they can be so... precious. What with their silly rituals and out-dated beliefs and nonsensical approach to science, facts, and logic.

And yet, part of the reason I mock fundamentalist Christians so much is because, deep down, I'm actually quite jealous of them. I wish I believed in something, anything, the way they believe in Jesus. These people are totally committed to a 2,000 year old carpenter, regardless of what judgmental assholes like me think of them. And for some strange reason, that pisses me off.

All of this is to say that when I wander into a strange church for the very first time and sit next to a woman who is joyfully weeping at the very mention of Christ, I can't help but be moved to tears myself.

Out of the mouths of babes

Classic.

"God would roast him until his eyeballs exploded."

Something we can all agree on

This is fantastic.

Losing faith in faith

Dan Barker makes a great observation:

"I do understand what love is, and that is one of the reasons I can never again be a Christian. Love is not self denial. Love is not blood and suffering. Love is not murdering your son to appease your own vanity. Love is not hatred or wrath, consigning billions of people to eternal torture because they have offended your ego or disobeyed your rules. Love is not obedience, conformity, or submission. It is a counterfeit love that is contingent upon authority, punishment, or reward. True love is respect and admiration, compassion and kindness, freely given by a healthy, unafraid human being."

I certainly don't identify myself as an atheist, as Dan does. But I agree with him wholeheartedly on this point.

Biblical fundamentalism I can believe in

"If someone has enough money to live well and sees a brother or sister in need but shows no compassion, how can God’s love be in that person?" -- the First Epistle of St. John the Apostle, chapter 3

Is this feeling proof?

I'm beginning to believe you're not the only one.

My favorite lyric:

All I do is doubt you, God
All I do is love you, God
All I do is question you
What else can I do?

Mason Jennings is good at singing.

A living expression of God

"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness." -- the Dalai Lama

Everything is vague

"Believe those who are seeking the truth; doubt those who find it." -- Andre Gide

Literal disbelief

Fascinating article. But the money quote is actually found in the 'comments' section:

"I think that my own crisis of faith came years ago when I could not develop an appropriate response for why the Old Testament was filled with so much bloodshed (i.e. why did God order Israel to annex so many pieces of property and kill everyone while doing it?). When I placed those passages within my trusted Wesleyan Quadrilateral (Scripture, reason, tradition, & personal experience), I couldn’t make sense of it. The only answer that satisfied me then and now is that what the OT records is not a whole lot different than what we now see going on in those same lands. People then and now fight over land and kill one another in the name of God. But that just doesn’t jive with loving your neighbour. But to dismiss these passages, along with many others that caused me more questions than answers, was to reject the Bible as being a word-for-word message from God. That was hard at first. But in order to salvage what was left of my virgin faith, it was necessary."

Personally, I have always struggled with the notion that the Old Testament -- and even much of the New Testament -- should be read literally. The God of the Old Testament is capricious and hateful and certainly not deserving of adoration, respect, or worship. The God of the New Testament is starkly different -- loving, compassionate, merciful -- but it appears that a number of his teachings, miracles, and attributes have been lifted from other faith traditions. Thus, the conundrum.

"Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied."

Children, wake up

"Those who cannot see the face of Christ in the poor are atheists indeed. Yes, the true atheist is the one who denies God's image in the 'least of these'." -- Dorothy Day

By scripture alone

"The Bible, more often than many would like to believe, is often just that: metaphor. This does not make it any less true. I believe the Bible is absolutely 100% true. Some of it even actually happened." -- Vaughn Roste

Pendulum swings

From Christian fundamentalist to Christian skeptic:

There was a point in time when I thought atheism might prevail but I just could not bring myself into that line of thinking. I am not the average Christian and I find it odd that others think, or assume, I should be. People’s minds are different. Not everybody processes information in the same way. I hope my more conservative Christian brothers/sisters can understand when I say "I can not process information in the same way you can." My mind thirsts for intellectualism while simultaneously thirsting for God. To abandon one for the other - in my mind - would be a waste of my life, as these are things that I look forward to thinking on day-in and day-out.

What light

"Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief." -- C.S. Lewis

We're all laughing with God

Achingly beautiful.

Broken

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not." -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow