On Faith

Faith is a peculiar and difficult thing. Modern faith operates next to/opposed to modern science and thought. Both seem to be able to swim the crests and dips on the tossed sea of human experience.

Faith for me has a couple of sides. The first side is the one I grew up with. I was born into a pretty typical American Christian household, with a mother and father who closely followed the evangelical Christian faith. (It's important to note that the evangelical versions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam are essentially a modern, 20th century invention.) As I grew up and became aware of myself and the world around me, I quickly surpassed my parents in my zeal for my faith. This wasn't simply a teen choosing to be a Christian because his parents had. This was true faith - unshakeable and unfaltering. I threw myself into my local church activities and into the study of the bible. I developed meaningful friendships of which Christianity was the central theme. I played, wrote, and, on a couple of occasions, even sermonized. I held positions of leadership in more than one local church.

How, then, did I come to be such a faithless, skeptical person? Two reasons: homosexuality and my father's death.

One of the major tenets of my particular brand of Christianity was the infallible nature of God's word (the bible). Put simply, the bible is the inspired word of God and is therefore as infallible as He is. Sure, it was written and compiled by men, but it was God who made it happen. The extreme result of this belief is an uncomfortably literal translation of the bible. Obviously, one of the many modern issues on which the bible was pretty clear was homosexuality. Certainly, the law (the first bunch of books in the Old Testament) was clear. So, too, was the New Testament. Jesus and Paul both referred to the sinfulness of homosexuality. This wasn't a problem as I was growing up because I understood that a homosexual isn't born with those tendencies but, for lack of a better term, chooses them. As I got closer to more friends in theater, however, things became difficult. A few key conversations with some trusted gay friends began to convince me that homosexuals have no choice in their lifestyle - except to embrace who they naturally are or spend a lifetime denying a very important part of themselves. I had a problem. This simply did not gel with the bible. The first nail in the coffin had been struck.

Around this time my dad collapsed from a burst anuerism in his head. He spent the next four months in a coma and the next three years as a veritable vegetable until cancer in his stomach (from exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam) finally took its toll. For most people of faith, a time like this highlights the need for that faith. A person's faith often carries them through such stark difficulties. For whatever reason, it didn't for me. Perhaps it was because at the time I was already questioning my faith. Or, perhaps, I simply needed something other than vague uplifting platitudes to help me understand the full nature of my loss. Whatever the reason, my faith had suffered its second major, and in this case, fatal blow.

I say all that to say this. I believe I have a unique perspective on the subject of faith. I'm certainly not the first person to have two distinct periods of life with and without faith. Nonetheless, I have many non-religious friends who've never had faith at all. And many friends who've never gone without.

Only a person who has experienced faith can understand it. Those who haven't simply can't. Faith cannot be explained. It cannot be copied. It cannot be approximated. Faith, in my opinion, is a daily choice to live and believe a certain way with no rational, scientific reason whatsoever. In our modern world where science and reason are king, faith can seem quaint, simple, even laughable. I'm ashamed to admit that for a while I felt that those with faith were experiencing life on crutches. They had chosen to hold on to some phantom of an ideal instead of facing the world and each day with the spectacles of science and reason.

I have since grown to learn that many people of faith aren't weak or lacking in reason. The faithful can ceratinly behave like a bunch of sheep, but so, too, can those without faith. Faith is a choice. Like love, one can easily slip in and out of it. To hold on to faith in the face of adversity is a strong choice. It's a choice made every day.

I make a choice every day, as well. I choose to look at the historical record to understand the world around me. I choose to inspect humanity's great triumphs and mistakes to inform my worldview. Is this a better choice? A stronger one? Perhaps. But most people of faith don't engage the world in a vacuum. They're aware of the church's shortcomings and inconsistencies. Nevertheless, they make a choice to continue down the road of their choosing - and for that I applaud them. Problems arise, of course, when church leaders are followed blindly and without a healthy dose of skepticism. Those of us who operate without faith are no strangers to skepticism. We adopt a skeptical view of everything we encounter. For me, it's a safe and illuminating way to live. But who am I to say that someone else's methods aren't as keen?

My next article is going to deal with the modern American evangelical church and it's political maneuverings. I thought it was important before I posted to make it clear that I'll be referring to the "Church" and not those individuals of faith who make up the church's body.

As always, please tell me what you think.