You’ve Got To Have Faith
My mom is going to Hell. I remember the panicky feeling when that thought assaulted my mind as a child. My well-intended, devout, paternal grandmother was clear in her warning that those who did not believe in and dedicate their life to Christ would burn for eternity, forever separated from those they love who had ascended to Heaven. You can bet I intended to go to Heaven. Burning was not on my bucket list. My mom didn’t seem concerned.
I didn’t want my mom to burn forever. Additionally, I didn’t want to be separated in death from the one person who had truly been there for me in life. Around the age of 10, I remember crying in my closet — Bible in hand — and praying for Satan to release his grip on my mother so she could be guided to the light of Christ so I could be with her in Heaven. How could my mom not care about her soul? Why wasn’t she afraid? At 10, I was sure I knew enough about life and how it works to know my mother’s eternal fate if she didn’t surrender her soul to Christ. How could she not know?
Let’s back this up for a bit. My twin sister and I were born to newlyweds in 1971. Our early years were in Holland, Michigan — a deeply religious community dominated by the Christian Reformed Church. We were baptized and had regular church experiences. When my parents divorced and my sister and I moved with our mother back to our family’s ancestral farm, church and religion became less of a thing. I didn’t question its absence or think to miss the rituals.
Several years later, my paternal grandmother moved from New Jersey to Michigan to be closer to her children. That move resulted in my sister and me spending much more time in proximity to our father and, relevant to this story, in a church environment. My grandmother was the daughter of a Moravian minister and her whole heart was full of Jesus and God. I say that warmly. Her affections and convictions were contagious. I identified with and aspired to be what I understood of Christ and Christianity: acceptance, care for the vulnerable, truth, patience, fairness, inclusion, peace, healing. These remain the pillars of my identity and aspirations.
Until I could drive, attending church was largely something I did when visiting my grandmother. She lived near my father. Visits with her were the primary method of ensuring paternal involvement in my life. Each day began with devotions, prayers and reading excerpts from Billy Graham’s books. Sundays and holidays were always spent in church. As the exposure deepened, I became more aware of the underlying theme of Christianity and, frankly, all religions. It wasn’t enough to subscribe to and emulate the values and behaviors I noted above. You also had to believe very specific things about the intentions, rules and attitudes of a deity. Us and them emerged, not just between faiths, but within faiths. It was all or nothing when it came to these specific things I was learning about, no matter one’s character. I remember feeling relieved that I had found, out of all of the faiths and denominations in the world, THE right one. I wasn’t going to burn in Hell for believing the wrong thing. My grandmother had assured me of that truth. At a young age, I felt I was able to confidently predict who was truly favored by God and who, without intervention, was destined to Hell on these specifics alone. It was an anxiety inspiring exercise to pray for my lost friends and family members so they may join me in Heaven.
Once I could drive, I began attending a local Presbyterian church until I graduated from high school and left my tiny town for Michigan State University (MSU). At MSU, I was a small fish in a big sea and sought out friendship from other small fish swimming nearby. Those little fish came from different backgrounds, beliefs and experiences. Attending church was still important to me, but attending alone felt intimidating so I tagged along with friends to their churches. I experienced an array of faiths and denominations. I was surprised at how familiar it all felt, even when it should have felt foreign. These faiths didn’t have it exactly right according to the rules I had learned; yet, here they all were making a genuine attempt to center their flock in kindness, integrity, generosity, acceptance and peace. It was a common thread I found comforting. That said, I have distinct memories of time spent worrying about their souls and wondering how to broach the subject of Christ, as I understood him, being the only way to prevent eternal damnation.
As I spent more time with this eclectic group of friends, it became clear the state of my soul was on their minds, too, sometimes in surprising spaces. I remember sitting in a Catholic mass with one group of friends. As they left the pew to receive the sacrament, I remained and was instructed to read a passage in a book that essentially involved me praying for myself so that I may convert to the right path. That was something to ponder. It never occurred to me that WE weren’t on the same path or that I might be seen as queued up for damnation. I could imagine my friends with markedly different beliefs seeing me strictly as an earthly connection, but another Christian? Did all of us believe we were on the right path — because why would we have chosen to be on the wrong one — and, with the best of intentions, worry about friends who weren’t?
And what of those who were part of belief systems where others had little-to-no chance to be on the right path to a blessed eternal life? The rules to get in involved more than beliefs that could be changed. God had made his choice before the first breath was drawn whether the person would be on the right path based on where they were born, the circumstances of their birth, the decisions of their parents, physical characteristics, etc. What did they think about me? I know what I thought about them. With my most caring heart, I worried over the eventual consequences of their ‘misguided’ beliefs and associations. What a tangle. What an arrogant tangle, more accurately.
As I sorted through the tangle, I kept coming back to the values, actions and aspirations we all had in common. All of us believed there were things much bigger in life than us as individuals, that a higher purpose was achieved when we looked beyond our singular interests, that we should be observant of and attentive to the needs of others and that a good life required honesty, kindness, reflection, gratitude, community, grace and forgiveness.
That was the point when my mind and heart began to open to the possibility none of us are specifically right or wrong about the rules of play for good eternal outcomes. Is it reasonable for humans to concede they aren’t in a position to know what exists of an eternal life and what criteria is applied at death to determine destinations? Yes, it is reasonable. In fact, it may be essential. This is something my mother likely understood as I cried over her pending damnation as a 10 year old.
I started to relax and consider my mother, who lived the values noted above, might be more Christ-like in her actions and attitudes than those who judged her as lacking devotion. I recalled instances when I was in conflict with faith and my mother would offer the conflict was more with the actions of those professing to be doing things in Jesus’ name that weren’t, from what we’ve learned from history, what the living breathing man would have done. She was right. Her words made it easier to dismiss the flawed human inclinations influencing religion versus the potential for a larger purpose and higher power in life. There is a thread. There is something bigger. Honor and respect don’t require I falsely claim complete understanding.
Instead of leaning into a philosophy of one being right, with others damned, might the larger goal be to find community with what you identify with and to hold that community to the highest standards of kindness, generosity, grace, acceptance and such?
People ask me in direct and indirect ways about my faith. I’m sure I’m an enigma for those used to clear labels. With the values I’ve noted multiple times in this post on full display, it’s odd to some that I’m not also displaying my devotion to a belief. So far, that question has come primarily from those with public testimony of their beliefs and I interpret the question to be well intended. I may not have a satisfactory answer, however.
Officially, I’d say I’m agnostic because I truly can’t bring myself to claim I know with certainty how the histories, experiences, beliefs and transferred stories of our planet’s humanity have contributed to what we believe in the present. I do believe in a higher power. Jesus, as I understand him, remains important to me. Organized religion, not so much, and that seems to be one of those strict rules that disqualifies me from a good eternal outcome. That’s been shared with me by well intended friends. That said, I can’t conceive of a scenario where all of the people like me are good with God and all those who aren’t are damned, which is a lot how organized religion feels right now. I’m not exactly sure what the purpose of organized religion has become at this point in my life.
Taking the agnostic route doesn’t feel like denying possibilities. For me, it feels like the ultimate way to lean into an existence that is bigger than what I may be capable of conceiving. It has freed me from the misplaced burden of guessing, let alone proclaiming, people’s eternal destination. It has relieved me of the burden of worrying over the souls of terrific humans who aren’t inclined to commit to the same specific rules for eternal grace my grandmother assured me were spot on. It has relieved me of the notion divine intervention is at play in the superficial human dramas we create. It has given me the capacity to accept our larger purpose and the path to our most pleasant earthly and eternal existence rests in the common values and aspirations I share with my friends of all beliefs who are navigating the human experience. It has given me faith.
If you made it this far, lean into acceptance, care for the vulnerable, truth, patience, fairness, inclusion, peace and healing. If it’s important to do so under the auspices of your faith, that’s terrific. If you are inclined to do so simply because they are core to who you are, that’s also terrific. It would be amazing to make this physical life we are all certain we have better for more people.
