The Really Really Narrow Gate?
I had an epic debate with 15-year-old Marié last night. There was a divergence in opinion, and we're both rather argumentative, so it wasn't long until an argument got started. See, I have all of my thinking and praying and happy explosions and confusion and obsessive wallowing self-pity from the past five or six years stored on the faces of hundreds of pages in my room, all written in a cryptic secret alphabet that I made up with Miss Brittany Hoff as a sixth grader. Every once in awhile I access these records to figure out when I adopted a certain opinion, realized a certain truth, picked up some habit, went somewhere, did something, or, in last night's case, wrote a certain song. It normally takes some searching to find the date I'm looking for, and last night was no exception. While I was looking for the day I wrote Prologue, I came upon a few pages from February 8th, 2009 where I was postulating the hypothetical consequences of deciding I would no longer be a Christian.
My greatest worry was that I was too cowardly to ever give up Christianity, and because of that, would always deceive myself into believing its lie if it actually is one. There is, indeed, a vast burden of social pressure that would fall upon anyone in my shoes upon having decided not to conform to such an influential societal norm. "Everyone'd react horribly," I said. "How would I break the news, anyways? It'd be like getting a divorce. Everyone would try and talk me out of it, be extremely upset, get mad at me, keep making me go to church... It'd be disaster." And I was right. Being non-Christian in my life seems comparable to walking down the streets of 17th-century Boston or Paris wearing a burka or yarmulke: downright stupid. It would be emotionally straining to an extreme degree. I would have to find one hell of an Internet support group, for one, because no one I know in real life would support that kind of decision. I'd have to do a ton of research, too, because never in my life have I been presented an argument for Atheism or non-Christian religion that wasn't shortly followed by some sort of biased rebuttal. I would be all on my own. But believing stuff contrary to what everyone else I know does ain't nothin' new anymore, so I've gotten over this fear. (See A-Christian Truth.) It sure would be harder than disagreeing with the more trivial conventional doctrines I've rejected recently. But I do believe I'd now rather risk the social dangers accompanying the renouncement of Christianity than sell my intellectual and emotional integrity. That's what would truly be a "narrow gate," from my perspective.
Most of the other worries I listed are kind of funny to me in retrospect. I was truly petrified that my faith journey might lead me out of faith, so I clung to as much fear mongering as I could to keep myself from going down that path. One idea I had was that as a non-Christian, I would see nothing negative about being depressed all the time, so I would just let myself gradually slide into depression until I eventually committed suicide. Right. Because non-Christians obviously have no understanding of psychological health. Another was that I would think swearing was hilarious and encourage it in small children. Because non-Christians have no social consciences or manners or parenting skills, either. Uh huh... Whatever you say, Marié...
When I wrote that entry two years ago, I remember feeling my creative juices begin to sag towards the end. I wanted to believe my life could be that horrible without Christianity, so I made my argument sound as convincing as I could, but I knew it was slightly unrealistic. After I had spewed as much as I could muster, I remember staring at the wall, trying to verbalize the deeper, simpler fear I hadn't put onto paper yet.
"I would be confused. So confused. A jellyfish in open water. I'd have to re-figure-out everything I believe. The mental vacuum would kill me. I don't know if I could live the rest of my life in such confusion."
I read this and smiled, remembering the dread I'd written it with. And I thought to myself, damn, Marié, it does seem that you've been mighty confused pretty constantly since you wrote this. Confusion isn't gunna go away with Christianity.
Pretend you're not a Christian, I told Marié. Assume for the time being that all the experiences you've had with "God" are emotionally-fabricated illusions and you don't have any special trust for any religious figures you've ever heard from or talked to. What do you think of Jesus?
She thought a bit. I think a lot more is valid than a lot of historians say. As I have it, Jesus was some guy from Palestine that lived in the first century AD. He was a huge social disturbance. There was a lot of conflict over the stuff he did. But mostly, he was a peaceful, radical social nonconformist that had people's most fundamental needs in mind.
Maybe I think of the issues Jesus adressed as "fundamental" because it's been fed into my worldview since I was a toddler, but that is my opinion, free of any religious bias I might superimpose on my real opinion because I'm trying to convince myself that Christianity works. Forget any belief in regard to predestination, or Biblical inspiration, or whether or not prayer is valid and works, or whether Jesus is really the Old Testament Messiah, or even whether God was really ever Man. I am willing to believe that those issues are all more complicated that I will ever understand and that none of them are absolutes. The point is that there was a guy that died for human kind (of which I seem to be a part) after living exactly like I personally want to. Socially defiant in the name of all that he believed was right and good. A lover of people that loved without conditions and gave the finger to self-righteous assholes. He was a realist. Whether or not what he did was divinely perfect, it sure as hell was epic.
And that was all said under the assumption that I'm not Christian.
What now when I add that this man was somehow especially connected to and part of this enormous, flawless, personal force central to everything that happens in the Universe, called God? And that there is purpose to life? These are things I can't prove and can't disprove, either. But I believe it. Yup. I do. So why does it kill my joy and suck out my life that I might have lost track of what prayer's supposed to be like? Some of my opinions might change, but they're always going to be a little bit flawed, no matter where I land. In any case, they should never determine the way I exist in the light of perfect love. That's what matters.
My greatest worry was that I was too cowardly to ever give up Christianity, and because of that, would always deceive myself into believing its lie if it actually is one. There is, indeed, a vast burden of social pressure that would fall upon anyone in my shoes upon having decided not to conform to such an influential societal norm. "Everyone'd react horribly," I said. "How would I break the news, anyways? It'd be like getting a divorce. Everyone would try and talk me out of it, be extremely upset, get mad at me, keep making me go to church... It'd be disaster." And I was right. Being non-Christian in my life seems comparable to walking down the streets of 17th-century Boston or Paris wearing a burka or yarmulke: downright stupid. It would be emotionally straining to an extreme degree. I would have to find one hell of an Internet support group, for one, because no one I know in real life would support that kind of decision. I'd have to do a ton of research, too, because never in my life have I been presented an argument for Atheism or non-Christian religion that wasn't shortly followed by some sort of biased rebuttal. I would be all on my own. But believing stuff contrary to what everyone else I know does ain't nothin' new anymore, so I've gotten over this fear. (See A-Christian Truth.) It sure would be harder than disagreeing with the more trivial conventional doctrines I've rejected recently. But I do believe I'd now rather risk the social dangers accompanying the renouncement of Christianity than sell my intellectual and emotional integrity. That's what would truly be a "narrow gate," from my perspective.
Most of the other worries I listed are kind of funny to me in retrospect. I was truly petrified that my faith journey might lead me out of faith, so I clung to as much fear mongering as I could to keep myself from going down that path. One idea I had was that as a non-Christian, I would see nothing negative about being depressed all the time, so I would just let myself gradually slide into depression until I eventually committed suicide. Right. Because non-Christians obviously have no understanding of psychological health. Another was that I would think swearing was hilarious and encourage it in small children. Because non-Christians have no social consciences or manners or parenting skills, either. Uh huh... Whatever you say, Marié...
When I wrote that entry two years ago, I remember feeling my creative juices begin to sag towards the end. I wanted to believe my life could be that horrible without Christianity, so I made my argument sound as convincing as I could, but I knew it was slightly unrealistic. After I had spewed as much as I could muster, I remember staring at the wall, trying to verbalize the deeper, simpler fear I hadn't put onto paper yet.
"I would be confused. So confused. A jellyfish in open water. I'd have to re-figure-out everything I believe. The mental vacuum would kill me. I don't know if I could live the rest of my life in such confusion."
I read this and smiled, remembering the dread I'd written it with. And I thought to myself, damn, Marié, it does seem that you've been mighty confused pretty constantly since you wrote this. Confusion isn't gunna go away with Christianity.
Pretend you're not a Christian, I told Marié. Assume for the time being that all the experiences you've had with "God" are emotionally-fabricated illusions and you don't have any special trust for any religious figures you've ever heard from or talked to. What do you think of Jesus?
She thought a bit. I think a lot more is valid than a lot of historians say. As I have it, Jesus was some guy from Palestine that lived in the first century AD. He was a huge social disturbance. There was a lot of conflict over the stuff he did. But mostly, he was a peaceful, radical social nonconformist that had people's most fundamental needs in mind.
Maybe I think of the issues Jesus adressed as "fundamental" because it's been fed into my worldview since I was a toddler, but that is my opinion, free of any religious bias I might superimpose on my real opinion because I'm trying to convince myself that Christianity works. Forget any belief in regard to predestination, or Biblical inspiration, or whether or not prayer is valid and works, or whether Jesus is really the Old Testament Messiah, or even whether God was really ever Man. I am willing to believe that those issues are all more complicated that I will ever understand and that none of them are absolutes. The point is that there was a guy that died for human kind (of which I seem to be a part) after living exactly like I personally want to. Socially defiant in the name of all that he believed was right and good. A lover of people that loved without conditions and gave the finger to self-righteous assholes. He was a realist. Whether or not what he did was divinely perfect, it sure as hell was epic.
And that was all said under the assumption that I'm not Christian.
What now when I add that this man was somehow especially connected to and part of this enormous, flawless, personal force central to everything that happens in the Universe, called God? And that there is purpose to life? These are things I can't prove and can't disprove, either. But I believe it. Yup. I do. So why does it kill my joy and suck out my life that I might have lost track of what prayer's supposed to be like? Some of my opinions might change, but they're always going to be a little bit flawed, no matter where I land. In any case, they should never determine the way I exist in the light of perfect love. That's what matters.
Just for the record, your "cryptic secret alphabet" was a simple substitution cypher and it took me ten minutes to crack after finding just one note. Hey, it needed to be said.
ReplyDeleteConincidentally, it also works as a metaphor for this blog post. You've got your life, or diary I might say, plastered all over the walls. You pick an argument with a fragment of yourself stuck in one of those diary pages, trying to solve the question that confused you. But it actually wasn't that much of a question. You solved it in ten minutes.
But here the metaphor ends. Why was the puzzle so easy? Because you tried to eliminate part of your life and then answer the puzzle, but years later, with the benefit of additional knowledge--even if you said you were going to ignore that knowledge. Not surprising, then, that you came to the same conclusions you might have without this inhibition.
So here the issue can be seen clearly. "But I do believe I'd now rather risk the social dangers accompanying the renouncement of Christianity than sell my intellectual and emotional integrity." This can only become a dilemma when Christianity itself contradicts your integrity. What would that be for you? A bad argument? Your fear here is, objectively, a contradiction in terms. Consider Bertrand Russell: "Allow one false premise into a system and that entire system is flawed." If, in your skeptical musings, you negate a premise that's quite real, and the tower of logic you build from there leads you outside of Christianity, then renouncing Christianity leaves you with both social consequences and a lack of intellectual integrity.
Bottom line, don't start with the premises. This flies in the face of all modern thought, but, well, no one cares about modern thinkers. Instead, it's better to start with your conclusions and work backwards. For example, take Luther's arguments on Communion: God's substance can coexist with the bread and wine because that's how Jesus functioned (fully God and fully man). Here, he derived his opinion on a minor doctrine from the higher tenets of his faith.
Incidentally, your conclusions here came out okay from what I can see. XD
Skrybles!! <3
ReplyDeleteI remember having a conversation via email about this with you a while ago. Except it was me, not you, who was wondering what would happen if I just decided one day that I wasn't a Christian. There's no way to do that without questioning EVERY part of my life....
Interesting topic. I am intruiged by your ability to contemplate the possibility of Christianity being a lie. I am someone who came to believe fully in high school that Christ was and is God. However, I have many times wondered, what if I wander so far that I can't find my way back home? Or, what if I do so much damage to my relationship with God by delliberately disobeying Him so continuously that He walks away from me FOR GOOD? That is a terrifying and unbearable thought for me... separation from the only security I know. And many people that I have had this conversation with say that God NEVER leaves us, even in our bad behavior... no matter how bad we get. He's bound by His word to never leave us. However, I'm not sure I agree with the context of that view. Bottom line for me, when I contemplate not being a Christian, it is never because God and Jesus aren't who they (...singular :)...)say they are, it is because I fell so far astray that I became a useless, broken off branch thrown into the fire of uselessness to the kingdom. And then I wonder, is the fire that flakey Christians are thrown into for garbage reasons or for refinement reasons? I figure for refinement reasons now, though I wrestle with this question when I feel bad about something I've delliberately done that contradicts God's ways.
ReplyDeleteNevertheless, I liked the bravery of letting your mind wander like this, however, for me, God has moved me and shaken me and been so alive and real in my life in so many heart mending ways that He could NEVER be UNTRUE for me. I'm not blessed with an impressive education, nor have I studied many other religions. I glean my faith and beliefs from life experience. For me the God of the Bible is real, and could never be unreal for me. Thanks for your post... it reminded me to remember why it is that I have such a firm belief that there is only one true God,and that He is the God of the bible. My opinion, gently. :)
I just wrote an enormous mass-response to your comments and then accidentally refreshed the page before posting it. Damn it. I'll post it in three parts to avoid reoccurrence this time.
ReplyDeleteNick: "cryptic secret alphabet" is drippingly sarcastic. Hope you caught that. Your little correspondence with us in 7th grade was extremely creepy, though. I wasn't entirely sure whether to admire or be scared of you. (Little seems to have changed...)
I'm not sure how you came to the conclusion that I eliminated anything, especially additional knowledge. I believe my words were that I was freeing myself of any dumb biases I superimpose on my real opinion because I'm trying to convince myself that Christianity works.
I can't imagine what could possibly manage to turn me away from Christianity, because I don't believe it would ever happen. But whether or not I'm a Christian, I am willing to accept that we have to live with tons of flawed premises. None of us are without them. Yes, my "entire system" is flawed, and yours is too. It's called "sin nature." Because of that, even without an intellectual, "skeptic" approach to faith, there are lots of doubts and "proofs" against God's existence or faithfulness or love for us..." A bad argument" ain't gonna do nothing to break down my faith.
lol, Well, I don't agree with Luther's conclusion, and that's because I think the process you're suggesting is inherently flawed. But as you wish.
Any: Just remember the conclusion I came to at the end of this all. Clear the dark, looming TABOOFEARDISTRUCTION associated with the idea and consider it all over again. I do believe you would come to the same conclusion I did: that the worst realistic scenario doesn't throw away as much as you thought. Everything might still change, yeah, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing.
ReplyDeleteAnonymous: The fear/doubt you're talking about is a very common one. I adressed the issue in a previous blog post entitled Timelines (http://themusingsofapostrophe.blogspot.com/2010/02/timelines.html). The idea is that because God is unchanging, he would never change his opinion or get angry with you. At the same moment he creates, he is born and dies and is resurrected and sees the end of time. He's omnipresent in both time and space: if he was ever with you, he will always be (http://themusingsofapostrophe.blogspot.com/2010/02/milk.html). If he's happy with you one day, he isn't going to be mad at you the next. I don't believe he's quite that fickle.
ReplyDeleteAccording to my opinion, which is obviously sovereign and awesome in its perfection, the reason bad stuff happens when we sin is because there's a kind of natural law that says stupid actions spit stupid results back out at you. This I've talked about as well, in the post A-Christian Truth (http://themusingsofapostrophe.blogspot.com/2010/07/christian-truth.html). God made it this way, of course, and it's because it's best for us that way. So in a sense, God does "refine" us by giving us a little burn when we're sinful, but it's not done to inflict some angry, wrathful punishment on us. It's because he's created a world that lets you feel the heat before your arm gets seared off.