Taboo: Chapter Three

As I sit here on my couch on Christmas Eve, I find myself confused.

While I’m expected to be celebrating the birth of Jesus, the only thing running through my mind is a long list of unanswered questions.

My questions are not original. I’m not the first person to ever have thoughts that challenge mainstream Christianity. My struggles with God are common with yours, but your struggles aren’t the ones that occupy my brain. This is a customized battle. One that God and I have learned to know well. The script and dance steps are well rehearsed. The same questions and doubts are always brought into the ring, but at the end of the day I return to my post and forfeit. Relinquishing my need for answers due to frustration, tiredness and wariness. I have, however, discovered through this process that having too many questions hinders your ability to hear the answers.

I believe there is a difference between religion and spirituality.

I’m not in search of religion. Religion is easily obtainable. I have a religion. I go to church. I’ve maneuvered myself through all the appropriate ministries and have felt temporary fulfillment through them. Spirituality is something that grows way deeper than just memorizing John 3:16 and repeating it enough times until it makes sense. To me, it’s a more complex level of consciousness and connectedness to oneself and to God. I have been fascinated by spirituality for years, but it seems my analytical behavior prevents me from experiencing it fully.

My life is surrounded by people of all levels of belief. From die-hard Christianity to atheism. When I was about 10 my father decided that our family would stop going to church and thus turn against his strong southern Baptist upbringing. Growing up he would never explain to me his reasons because he believed that I needed to decide my own path and not be restricted to his. Although his intentions were good, giving me “free will” left me dangling, unsure and without direction. As an adult I’ve asked about his outlook on God, but he is still silent. He still will not explain what happened all those years ago. Since I’m no longer a child, I assume his reasons for not being forth coming has changed. I often wonder if he fears my judgment while the truth is no more than me wanting to get to know my father. Wanting to know how his questions compare to mine. Wanting to know if we have the same fears or if he has somehow figured it all out. Because of the tiny bit of information I have managed to squeeze out, I have categorized him as an agnostic.

I believe my father’s decision catapulted my spiritual search.

One would view this as positive. It’s caused me to be open minded, nonjudgmental, and tolerant of different belief systems. Although I tend to stand on shaky ground about many spiritual issues, there are two things I do believe: that God exists and that we will transition into a different life experience after we die.

I think a lot of times we tend to mentally put God in a small box and project humanistic thoughts and characteristics on him. I’m guilty of doing this during my personal battles with him. At times I feel I’m fighting with a handicap. That maybe I’m not supposed to know certain answers, but yet I still ask the same questions over and over again. Not unlike my father, God remains silent. Why did God give me an analytical personality if he has no intentions on humoring me with answers? Why did he give me the ability to love a man’s mind, body and soul but yet hasn’t provided someone to receive it?

People blame God for tragedies as well using him as a coping mechanism.

Some people say they survived cancer though the Word of God while others say they survived on their own strength and positive outlook. I want to know why. If someone claims to overcome cancer “by the grace of God” then doesn’t that imply that those who passed were not in his graces?

Tammy Faye Bakker is in the final stages of cancer. She is now in hospice and weighs 68lbs. During a phone interview on Larry King Live the other night, she said that she has faith that God will heal her. That God will rid her body of this cancer and she will then be able to use her testimony to show others the power of God. Even though Tammy Faye is a person who is easily made fun of, I believe she is sincere. That she believes what she believes. Although a bit quirky, I don’t view her as a con. But I’m not a fan of hers. I can’t get past the eyelashes and the too-bubbly personality. Nevertheless, if it is true that God expects us to have faith in him and spread his Word, then Tammy Faye has done way more than most of us. If she’s expecting herself to be healed… will she? If she dies, what is our answer? That she didn’t have enough faith? That faith doesn’t matter? That it was just her time to go? That there is no God? That God chose to decline the perfect opportunity to perform a miracle in front of millions of witnesses? If she does live, will you give the credit to science or to God?

On Christmas Day my family will sit around the dinner table, hold hands and say a prayer of thanks to God. Of course it will end in the customary “…to the nourishment of our bodies.” I have many things to be thankful for this Christmas. I have wonderful friends who I hold close to my heart and a family that is incredibly supportive.

But as I sit there at the table with my eyes closed, I’ll most likely be asking the question “Who are you exactly?”