Why I Believe

Today I asked myself exactly why I believe. I've spent the last decade or so trying to figure out what I believe, and that's a question that I'm still not entirely certain of. But I realized in the midst of a rather heated internet argument (is there any other kind?) that I'd never taken the time, at least not lately, to ask myself why I believe at all. It only took a moment to realize that I didn't know why—I just do. I thought of my psychology classes—Freud's idea that our Superego is formed before our Ego; that our basic ideas of religion and morality are based upon subconscious fears of castration and a desire to take the place of our fathers—and other such gobbledygook. We'll inherit all of our parents' beliefs before our brains have developed enough to decide whether we even want to. It made me uncomfortable to think that maybe the only reason I still believe—even now after years of questioning, thinking and reasoning—was because my parents believed.

For many years, I feared that if I didn't "feel" god, then I wasn't a true believer. If I didn't feel Christ's love, then my faith must not be strong enough. Jesus said, "Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." I think (I hope) the same could be said for those who believe without feeling. It's easy to believe something you feel, deep within. But a relationship with God, much like any other relationship, must be based upon something more than feelings. For many years I relied solely upon emotional response to define my relationship with God. I could work myself into a tear-stained frenzy at church thinking about Jesus's sacrifice. But when I'd go home, the feelings would recede, and I'd feel lost. Turns out, emotion alone wasn’t enough to sustain my faith.

So I tried to logically defend my faith. I've been unable to do so, other than to say that it just seems the more "logical" explanation to me. I understand that Newton's Law of Conservation of Energy states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Same for matter. Ultimately, all this stuff had to come from somewhere, and for whatever reason, I've not heard a compelling enough explanation from science as to how you go from nothing to stuff that can be neither created nor destroyed, all in a fraction of a second. Now, it's very possible that science has an explanation that could satisfy me, and I'm simply not scientifically adept enough to understand it. Or possibly, I've just never been introduced to such an explanation (though, with the abundance of "science worshipers" I’ve discovered online, I'd think that such a theory would be rampant). But, in my own admittedly limited understanding, the idea of an intelligent creator is no more far-fetched than science glossing over two of it's most basic laws, simply for the sake of being able to call itself the most logical explanation. But none of that is evidence. It’s not proof. It’s speculation—the ramblings of an amateur philosopher. So it turns out, the part of my brain that processes emotions isn't enough to keep my faith strong, and I certainly can't reason my faith into existence. And then it hit me: I want to believe. Is it possible simple desire is sufficient to sustain my faith?

My brain can give me hundreds of reasons that the bible is improbable. My "heart" can gaze upon the cross and feel no twinge of emotion. But when I think—rationally—about what that cross represents I realize that despite all my doubts, despite my hardened heart, I desperately want to believe that it's true. Why?

Am I afraid of the consequences of unbelief? I think I used to be. But that ship has sailed. Since I left my church four years ago, I've spent a lot of time ignoring my faith, or, at times, my lack of faith. At first, I felt uncomfortable ignoring it. Then, I started to realize that even if God is everything I once feared He was, I don't want to worship or serve a God who doesn't show Himself, yet refuses to allow my mind to question. Did He not give me a mind with which to ponder? Then why would He be angry and condemn me for doubt?

No, I realized that I want to believe the Gospel because it is such a good story. Certainly, my literary side appreciates the story line—the hook, rising action leading to a climax and resolution, only to learn that there’s more yet to come. But I also hope that it’s true. I want to meet the author of this story. Sure, it sounds naïve, but I’m a sucker for great book.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all that science is capable of doing. In fact, I believe that there is almost nothing science couldn't do, given enough time and ingenuity. I'd even like to believe that one day we could prove (or disprove) God's existence. I also don't believe that science is mutually exclusive from God. Perhaps we are closer to Him—scientifically—than we imagine. Perhaps the Big Bang theory is as close as we've come to describing the physics behind God creating all this. Who knows? The more whacked out theories I hear (did you know that Einstein proved that time travel is possible? That's incredible!), the more I believe that we are coming ever closer to describing those things which we once thought were magic.

Hell, we've been doing that for years. Thousands of years ago, we thought the sun, and rain, and moon and thunder were gods. Perhaps one day, the entity that I call God will be proven to be a simple scientific process. I'm sure some people I sit next to in Church would call that line of thought blasphemous, but it excites me. I've always believed that the typical view of God among believers was far, far too narrow. What if He created us without limits? What if He created us with the power to surpass even Himself? If we are His children, doesn’t it make sense? Isn’t that what parents want for their children—to do greater things than they’ve done? The bible says God destroyed the tower of Babel and confused man's language because, working together, there was nothing mankind couldn't accomplish. Hearing that, I’m inclined to believe that we could one day scientifically describe every force in the universe. There’s nothing we can’t do. Perhaps our history was (and continues to be) a narrative of mankind coming back together, responsible enough to finally wield the awesome power with which we’ve been entrusted.

That’s a story worth reading. That’s a story worth hoping for.