It's Good Friday.
I have been wrestling with a spiritual question for some time now. I haven't shared this with anyone because even wondering this, silently to myself, was disturbing...even to me.
Am I an athiest?
When I was a child, I believed very deeply in God. I believed in God so profoundly that when I prayed, I believed someone was actually listening. But as I grew up, cracks started to form in the foundation of my faith.
First, being sent to Catholic school didn't help much. Nothing helps strengthen your faith in God like asking your religion teacher a deep spiritual question about God and being told, "Do you know what your problem is? You think to much! Maybe you should just stop asking questions and do what you're told!"
I know that as far as lives go... I've been pretty lucky. I've always had a roof over my head. I may not have always had what I wanted, but for the most part, I've always had what I needed. My life has been a lot easier than a lot of people on this blue marble we live on. Lucky....my mother says blessed.
But on occasion, life has thrown me a curve ball. My dad was sick for a while. My marriage was far from successful. My pregnancy was troubled from the very start. Maybe some of my dreams didn't come true. People I loved disappointed me and broke my heart. And sometimes it felt like these little things piled up into one big overwhelming thing I had to shoulder alone. And I started to ask myself...
When I pray, is anyone even listening?
So I stopped praying. I stopped blessing myself with the cross. I stopped going to church. I walked away.
From time to time friends I've made along the way would tell me how they were saved. They would share their beliefs with me and how they would go to church faithfully every Sunday with their families. And it would bother me so much. Maybe I was jealous because they had so much faith and I had so little. They were filled with their faith. I on the other hand would feel utterly empty. Sometimes I felt like I was going a little nutty because I was talking to myself a lot. Maybe it was my replacement for prayer.
I know I talk a lot of trash about my mom sometimes, make little jokes at her expense, but she said something today that made me think and re-evaluate.
I said to my mom, "I'm sorry I'm not like you. I guess I'm more like my dad, he didn't have any faith either!"
My mom looked me in the eye and very calmly said, "Your father believed very deeply in God...it was the priests that he hated!"
Huh?!?
Turns out that my dad avoided church because he didn't like priests, not because he didn't believe in God. He felt that a priest was a guy just like himself...just a man. He hated how many people tripped all over priests like they were special. He saw them for the flawed human beings they were...just guys...and this is what they do. Some people grow up to be dentists or mechanics...some guys grow up to be priests.
I was stunned. That's why my dad hated going to church?! I thought it was because his time could be better spent watching TV and drinking beer. I didn't know he had an actual reason. And what was more shocking... a reason that I agree with!!
Just like my dad, I've always had a problem with church. I don't like going. I never got anything out of it and I didn't feel it brought me closer to God. And on top of that, I didn't like the idea of what I was being told...God is in heaven keeping a running tab of every little thing you have ever done wrong and on top of that, he takes attendance on Sunday. Awesome. And I hated how a lot of these religious folk who talked non stop about their church and their faith were, more often than not, faking it! Who among us doesn't know someone who constantly goes on and on about how good and holy they are and when they think no one is looking, they are the sneakiest, most dishonest people around?
I('ve made mistakes and sometimes my moral compass does not entirely point due north. But for the most part, I try to live my life as a good person. I help out when I can. I treat other the way I want to be treated. I'm trying... So because I don't go to church every Sunday or ram my religious beliefs down people's throats, does that mean I'm not welcomed in heaven...if there actually is a heaven? Is it even the way its been described to us since child hood or is heaven something else entirely different? Who knows...
But I do know this! I am taking a page out of my dad's book. If you go to church and it fills you with absolute joy, then good for you, I am happy for you, I really am. But its not for me. I have a better chance of squeezing into a size 2 than falling head over heels in love with organized religion.
Now, here's a funny little tidbit. All this time that I turned my back on God, I started talking to myself a lot. Thinking out loud, reflecting on stuff. The funny thing was...it felt like someone was listening. Just because I wasn't praying the way I was taught, or expected to, doesn't mean I wasn't talking to God. I was just doing it differently.
So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to park it on the couch and have a private chat with God.
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