I almost wished that it was harder. When I took a day off from Ramadan to play in my college’s alumni soccer game, I knew that I would have to make up that day before the end of the year. Even though the season of Ramadan is an entire month, the rhythm of the fasting and the solidarity of a billion others fasting makes the struggle a bit easier.

Now that the rest Ramadan fast is a few months behind me, I look back on some of those struggles with real fondness. I really learned a lot about Muslim culture during that month (and a lot about myself as well). I sometimes wonder if it will remain one of the most meaningful experiences of my life.

While my fast was to intended for me learn more about what this Muslim experience is like, and to show some solidarity with my Muslim friends, I did not end up converting to Islam. I’m sure that some of my Muslim and non-Muslim friends thought that this was possible based on my interest in the religion, but alas, it did not happen.

After a life lived in the realm of Christianity, I found myself wanting to get outside of the box. It’s too bad that there isn’t a new phrase that has replaced “outside of the box”. Remember when that term was en vogue? Remember when “en vogue” was… en vogue? You do? Alright! Now we’ve achieved synergy!

Sorry for that digression, but I actually do appreciate that metaphor of a box. The container of my Christian faith gave me a great deal of comfort. In my particular sect of Christianity, we believed that God’s only inspired words were contained within the leather casing of the Bible. Right there, from Genesis to Revelation, that was it.

It wasn’t exactly a small box, but it was a clearly delineated record of inspiration. I through myself headlong into studying and memorizing it. I even went to college to get a degree in the Bible. It was a 774,746 word (give or take) field to be mastered. Heck, I even started to learn how to translate from the ancient Greek.

But when my horizons were expanded to the billions of people who have never known the Bible and it’s Jesus, I found that I could not accept my Church’s teachings of their role in God’s grand narrative.

What was I to do about the Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, etc. of the world?

A God who would send the ignorant to hell didn’t appeal to me, and if He did allow some sort of grace to the ignorant, then evangelism seemed like a risky proposition, with the eternal destiny of souls on the line.

Perhaps you have heard of the metaphor of the blind men and the elephant?

These six blind men happen upon an elephant, but each can only perceive the creature through their hands. They take turns describing the different parts of the animal that they can feel, and argue over who is actually in touch with the its true nature. Of course, there is the artist, with eyes to behold the entire scene, and with this, the ultimate knowledge. Everyone thinks that they can perceive the whole of the God… er uh, elephant, right? How can one make such a claim and still be respectful to those which he calls blind?

As I wrestled with my own cognitive dissonances, I stumbled upon Samir Selmanovic and his book. Suddenly, I had an example of a Christian minister with a faith that actually honored the beliefs and traditions of other religions. Samir approaches those of a different faith with the curiosity and respect of a foreign exchange student, eager to learn from his surroundings.

I also found encouragement through the Interfaith Amigos, a trio of clergymen from the three Abrahamic faiths. Again, instead of seeking to convert each other, they seek conversations that allow them to learn from each other. How they make this all work, where others have found enmity, I sometimes wonder.

Most recently, I have discovered the discussions fostered by Chris Stedman. Chris is the Interfaith and Community Service Fellow for the Humanist Chaplaincy at Harvard University. Even as a humanist, he believes that there should be a place at the Interfaith table for those who do not believe in a god. He’s got some great ideas about how this can all work, and I’ll be writing more about him soon. But for now, just trust me that he is a really bright guy who doesn’t give you that icky, repulsive feeling that many atheists can do when they talk about religion.

That’s really where I’ve gotten stuck in my faith journey. I don’t really want to leave one box for another, but I often find myself suffocating in the vacuum of nothingness that I’m floating in right now.

Being in a box of religion may be limiting and claustrophobic at times, but at least there is some firm footing to rest on when weary.

I’ve almost forgot to mention the good people that often make up a faith community. I attended a bar mitzvah for the first time last week, and found myself encouraged and envious of the support offered to this boy and his family in his transition to manhood.

And finally let me return back to Ramadan. While I don’t want to embrace all of the beliefs, rituals, and dogma of Islam, I very much value and appreciate the structure of the Ramadan fast.

There is a beginning… and an end.

The sun comes up… and the sun goes down.

I focus my mind during the day… then I sit in thanksgiving for my food and water at night.

As far as boxes go, it’s been one that I have been happy to step into for the first time this year. Instead of continuing to float in a sea of not-knowing (agnosticism), will I be able to find peace of mind and community support in the Interfaith world.? Is this the box that contains the whole of the elephant? Or just another body part for me to grasp for in my own blindness?

Regardless, I’m proud to have celebrated Ramadan with my Muslim brothers and sisters this year. Will I be back for more next year in the blazing summer? I would say that it is pretty likely. Would anyone like to join me?

One month ago, I was contemplating whether or not I should try to fast with my Muslim friends for the month of Ramadan. I was reticent because I wasn’t sure that my body could make it through. It’s not that I expected to die or anything. I just figured that not eating and drinking during daylight hours would have a negative effect on my overall health, and that I would become too weak to finish it. I imagined myself staggering around each evening, just a bag of bones, begging for water with my last bit of energy.

It turned out that my fears were more than a little exaggerated. My body was actually quite capable during the fast. I was even pleasantly surprised by the stamina that I experienced. If anything, my overall health seemed to improve in a number of ways over the last 29 days.

The irony is that I feel truly lousy right now. I think that I have some sort of summer cold, and it just happened to coincide with my return to daytime eating and drinking. I’ve had a cough, runny nose, headaches, and fatigue. If not eating and drinking will restore my health, then sign me up for another month.

Without further ado, here are 6 things that I learned while fasting for Ramadan as a non-Muslim:

1) The human body is quite capable of going without water for 15+ hours without suffering any physiological damage.

This totally surprised me. As I mentioned on Day 22, I had expected to be suffering from mild to moderate dehydration at the end of each day. You know, parched throat, pounding headache, amber-colored urine, and the like. It turns out that none of those really afflicted me (apart from the occasional parched throat). In some magical way, the human body is able to adapt to such a fast. Some nights, I even went further into the evening without “needing” to eat or drink right at sunset. Aces.

2) Fasting is much easier to do with others than just trying to go it alone.

I guess this shouldn’t really have surprised me, but I am now firmly convinced of it being true. The most interesting aspect of this was the fact that the majority of my fast was spent in physical isolation from other Muslims, but rather in virtual, digital community with them. Through this website, I was able to connect with and interact with fellow Ramadan fasters from around the world, with many of them checking in with me each day. Their thoughtful and encouraging responses to my blog gave me a number of personal points of accountability that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

In previous food fasts as a Christian, I had mostly done them alone (with the 40 hour famine in my first post being the one exception). The Gospel of Matthew quotes Jesus as saying: ”Whenever you fast, don’t be gloomy like the hypocrites, because they put on sad faces to show others they are fasting. I tell you with certainty, they have their full reward!” Maybe devoting my website to chronicle the fast is violating this, but I have no regrets.

I must admit that I would tend to end those Christian fasts earlier that my original intention to do so. So a 5 day fast would often turn into a 2 or 3 day fast. But this 30 day fast actually turned into a 29 day fast, and it was totally legit. Thanks lunar cycle!

3) Four weeks really is enough time to form a new habit.

I’d always heard that it takes about 30 days in order to establish a new habit, but I had never really attempted to do anything regularly for that amount of time that didn’t just happen to come naturally or as the result of some sort of social construct (like school or work). For the last several days of this fast, I was waking up before dawn, hopping right out of bed, chugging a few bottles of water, and mentally preparing for my day like it was no big deal. My body’s circadian rhythm started to adjust, and it seemed to take less and less willpower for me to wake up so early.

Maybe I should try something else positive for 30 days…

4) Muslims and Christians are much more alike than different.

Most of my life has been spent in and around the Christian church. I was even a pastor for a number of years. Christianity’s exclusive claims to truth were always couched with an explanation of how different it was from the rest of the world’s religions. Since I’ve started exploring some of these religions in the past few years, I’ve been struck by some remarkable similarities between the two religions. Aside from them both being monotheistic, Abrahamic faiths devoted to sacred texts, each faith seems to approach the rest of the world in a similar way.

Islam seems to have just as exclusive of a claim to truth as Christianity does. The world is divided up into a dichotomy of believers and non-believers. The afterlife is divided into a heaven and a hell. Christians and Muslims are always trying to align their behaviors to the will of God (Allah), praying for his blessings along the way. Maybe the differences only tend to stand out if you are looking for them. Or perhaps they just melt away when you are focused on seeing the similarities.

Maybe my favorite time of this fast was spending an evening at the local mosque, sharing a meal together after the sun came down. Aside from the women’s head coverings, I could have sworn that I was right in the midst of a good old-fashioned Christian potluck. People taking care of people, in the name of God (Allah). There were no animal sacrifices to be found.

5) Fasting for Ramadan is much more of a blessing than a curse.

I had heard this through some internet research that I had done before beginning this fast. Most Muslims celebrate this time of year and what it does for their spiritual focus. For me, especially with my expectation that I would not be able to physically complete the fast, I figured that I would be a miserable mess each day. My focus was almost completely on what it was that I couldn’t do. But after about a week, I began to develop a growing appreciation of what I could do.

Something happens in your mind, while fasting. It’s as if the hunger and thirst pangs begin to strengthen your focus, both physically (my vision) and mentally. As my stomach shrank, my eyes would become wider. Quicker even. I was far more in tune with my surroundings. Thinking of the suffering of others from around the world, I swallowed my saliva and counted my own blessings.

After several weeks of this, I felt as if I was experiencing some sort of purified version of myself. Like a filter had been slowing lifted from my eyes, I was able to examine my own strengths and shortcomings more clearly. While I didn’t always like what I found, I do not discount the value of accurate self-reflection. I’m already missing that feeling of clarity today.

6) Anyone striving for radical empathy could benefit from such an experience.

Unless you have experienced something for yourself, empathy is probably as close as you will be able to feel what another is feeling. Without actually going to the extent of a full conversion or some sort of undercover mission, what better opportunity is there to learn about what it feels like to be a Muslim (at least in a physical sense)? This is the best effort that I could come up with to walk in the shoes of another.

Islam is not a religion filled with terrorists who are hell-bent on implementing Sharia Law all over the world. Many followers of Islam only want to show the love of Allah (God) to a world that seems desperate to need it. From what I can tell, Islam is supportive of any forms of righteousness that make the world  better place. That much is clear to me now more than ever.

I’m both proud of and humbled by this experience. I did not believe that I could complete it, but when I finally did, I realized how much more I am responsible for in my own life. I seem to have far fewer excuses for myself, now that I have a better idea of what I am truly capable of.

So, for the final time in 2011:

Ramadan Mubarak!

What a way to break a fast, huh?

Actually, one of my new Muslim friends from the U.K. placed this lovely picture in my mind earlier today, and I managed to bring it into reality at sunset. In what may not come as much of a surprise, it tasted much better in my mind than in real life.

Even though I know that less than 10% of you watched the videos from yesterday, I wanted to share another one with you today.

No, sadly it’s not footage of me devouring the aforementioned cheeseburger.

Keeping with the theme of the last couple of days with my articles and some really insightful comments from readers, I wanted to share the Jon Stewart clip that I alluded to way back on Day 2 of this fast. It’s all about the Norway massacre and how some media members have been utterly indignant about any association with Christianity, either mainstream or fringe.

It’s safe for work, and I only show it here because I can’t illustrate in words what these clips illustrate themselves. Please, give it a go. It’s only 5 minutes long.

Ah Kinko’s…. that’s some funny stuff right there.

I don’t want to rant and rail about the double standard illustrated here. I just appreciate the matter of fact way in which Stewart approaches this.

Are we dealing with apples and oranges here? I don’t expect the media to treat Christianity and Islam the same way any time soon, but I value being aware of scotomas (blind spots). Am I way off base here?

Is it possible that Islam has gotten an unfair shake from the media in America over the last decade?

Again, if you are reading this as a Christian (or really any sort of non-Mulsim), and your only experience with Islam is through your computer screen and television set, please enlighten yourself by becoming friends with a Muslim. Or 5. Or 10.

If you have no idea about how to do that, leave a comment here and we can figure it out together.

That’s been my mantra today. It’s been flowing through my body. It’s been written on my mind.

Be calm.

When I wanted to take a swig of my daughter’s lemonade at lunch, I stopped myself.

Be calm.

When I kept looking at the clock and fretted over how many more hours it would be until I could break my fast, I reminded myself.

Be calm.

One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands (Fun.) tells me the same.

Be calm.

I’ve begun to learn something about myself in these couple of days. I can actually refrain from indulging my impulses.

When I feel lonely, I pull up Facebook. When I feel disconnected, I hop on Twitter. When I’m sad, I pout. When I’m stressed, I drink. And when I’m tired, I sleep.

I’ve gotten pretty used to scratching my itches as soon as I feel them (Side note – I’m dealing with some poison ivy right now, so the metaphor is literal, as well as figurative). I’ve set up my life so that I can take care of things as soon as I feel some discomfort.

But today (and yesterday), I let that discomfort linger. And to my surprise, it did not kill me. Nietzsche tells me that it will make me stronger, but I see now that it will make me calmer too.

Pretty calm looking dude.

I’d love to talk about the Jon Stewart clip on Facebook where he points out how quickly some media talking heads come to the rescue of Christianity by trying to distance it from the Norway mass-murderer and his Christian claims. Why, he asks, doesn’t Islam get the same pass?

But I don’t want to talk about that today. Some other time, perhaps. No. Today is about realizing the power to let the itch remain, and find the power of something greater to wrestle it from the forefront of your mind.

Maybe the fast could help you to. Care to try it for just a day? Let me know.

Does that sound interesting enough?

As the title of this post might suggest, the three men were recently invited to speak at an independently organized TEDx event at the University of Denver. Check it out here:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Without a doubt, my favorite line of the talk is from Christian pastor Don Mackenzie, when he says:

“For many non-Christian people, the cross has become a symbol of an oppressive and arrogant triumphalism, that has led to a tragic and destructive repudiation.”

So much of the Christianity that is portrayed in the news is of this ilk. The May 21, 2011 rapture that wasn’t, the Westboro Baptist jackassery, and the burning of the Koran by a Florida pastor all grab headlines and spark condemnation.

When Christians act in a manner more in keeping with what most people understand as Christ-like, the “Christian-ness” of the behavior rarely seems newsworthy. This is simply how humans expect each other to act and hope that they can act in similar situations. At least, that’s what I am coming to believe.

This is not just a Christian problem. It probably doesn’t come as much surprise that studies are finding evidence that religion as we know it may in fact being going extinct in parts of the world.

I can only hope that people like Ted, Jamal, and Dan represent the future of religious expression more than those who grab the current headlines in the name of religion, wittingly or not.

This week, Interview with the Vampire author Anne Rice officially outed herself from Christianity. Naturally, she did so via her Facebook wall. Here is the text of her post:

“For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian … It’s simply impossible for me to ‘belong’ to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.”

Conscience? What exactly is it about Christianity that violates Rice’s conscience? Well, a few hours later, she posted this:

“As I said below, I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.”

Much like her return to the Roman Catholic church a decade ago, her stark about-face in regards to the church has stirred up a bit of discussion and opinion. Many wondered if she was mocking Christ and returning to her atheist beliefs of yesteryear. Again, via Facebook, Rice offered additional insight into her decision and her remaining devotion to the “Christ” of Christianity:

“My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic atheist lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me. But following Christ does not mean following His followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been, or might become.”

A friend of mine on Facebook compared her comments to those of Ghandi, who famously repudiated Christians, while embracing much of the philosophy of Jesus. Other friends of mine cannot understand how one can embrace the teachings of Jesus without joining his followers as well.

It’s a pretty fascinating concept to wrestle with. Are you a Democrat if you support President Obama? Are you an anti-Semite if you support Mel Gibson? What if you happen to like Mel Gibson’s movies? Does appreciating Tom Cruise’s role in Interview with the Vampire mean that you need to embrace Scientology as well? And now we’re back to Anne Rice.

A local Christian church had a sermon series a few months back with the title “Fan or Follower”. It was designed to separated the sheep from the goats, and the faithful from the attenuated. The desire was to elicit a hardy response of  ”Follower!” to the not so rhetorical question of how one should respond to Jesus. It was very much a situation of “either you are for us, or you are against us”. It was a significant souring point on my own relationship with the church, which I discussed in a little more detail here.

So, Anne is a fan of Jesus, but does not want to follow him along with any fellow followers.

Sounds fair to me.

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve come across two news articles, with very different examples of interaction between Christians and atheists.

The first one was written by Tom Krattenmaker of USA Today. The title of the article is How to sell Christianity? Ask an Atheist. The gist of the story is all about the new approach to evangelism being espoused by Jim Henderson. Henderson is a Seattle Christian who has embraced atheism as key to understanding why old argumentative approaches have become increasingly “more likely to repel than persuade”.

Buying a soul on eBay

Henderson famously purchased the soul of atheist Hemant Mehta on eBay, in order to get his perspective on the Christian church. Mehta wrote a book about what that experience did for him, while Henderson hired another atheist to travel with him to Christian churches around the country, and wrote a book about all of it. From what I have gathered from the reviews on Amazon, it sounds like both books are positive and even-handed, not looking to prove one side right, but seeking truth in our religious mire.

For what I understand about Jesus, and from the experiences that I have had with Christians, Henderson’s behavior is in line with what I would expect Jesus to do if he were alive today in those circumstances. The whole “What Would Jesus Do?” discussion would look favorably on this guy, in my opinion.

One Nation, Indivisible

In North Carolina, an atheist group displayed the words “One Nation, Indivisible” on a billboard next to the Billy Graham Parkway in Charlotte. The phrase is a part of the Pledge of Allegiance and intentionally leaves out the words “Under God”. These words were added to the pledge in 1954, and have been debated in different ways by different people ever since.

The new controversy is due to graffiti sprayed on the sign a couple of weeks ago, with the words “Under God” added back into the phrase. The debate at hand is whether or not it is appropriate for God followers to deface property, in the name of their god.

The North Carolina Secular Association (the group responsible for the original sign) wants to display their view that the Pledge of Allegiance should not include any language that respects a particular religion. They would rather have the pledge be neutral about any gods, and therefore be silent about the mention of any deities.

In a general sense, Christians are a majority in America, and a large part of democracy is majority rule. There are many Christians who believe that their majority views should be legislated or mandated upon the entire nation. They do not see loyalty to God and loyalty to the United States to be in conflict. To be a good American is to acknowledge God as the protector of it, according to some.

I would have to say that such behavior is not in accordance with the descriptions and understandings of the biblical Jesus. Jesus would not be a political “tagger”. As one quote from the article suggests, perhaps Christians should develop a new bracelet, saying: “What Would Jesus Spray Paint?”

Believe it, or not

Christians of the Arminianist tradition believe that belief in God is a matter of choice, and that such choices are personal to each individual. If Christians want to perpetuate a culture of being able to believe in God, and believe in him in a manner of their choosing, then they need to support those who believe differently. Without the possibility of dissent, there would be no point to discuss or deliberate the merits of Christianity, as a choice.

Many will remember Voltaire’s famous quote:

“I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”

Do Christians feel so strongly to defend the rights of atheists?

To offer an answer to the title question, I believe that everybody needs an atheist in their life. No man can see everything around him, and if everyone you know is shining their light in the same place, how will you be able to see the rest of the world around you?

He has been labeled as a pluralist by some, and a heretic by others.  But he still ardently believes in the beauty and truth contained in many, if not all, of the world’s expressions of faith (or doubt).  Samir finds it distasteful and arrogant (as do I) when a singular religion claims to have a stranglehold on truth.  Even when Christianity aims for this type of “light in a dark world” status, he mostly rejects it.

There are a lot of interfaith groups out there, but Samir gladly throws atheism into the mix.  In his book, he offers an interesting perspective on a common debate among atheist and religious thinkers:

“Does religion own virtue?

Are religious people more likely to be protectors of the earth’s resources, more likely to believe in nonviolent solutions to world problems, and more likely to care for the poor and oppressed?

The obvious answer to this question is no.  To which many religious people respond, ‘Yes, but this is just because the sense of right and wrong of atheists is feeding off of centuries of the development of morality and ethics nurtured by religion.  Once that storehouse of religion is used up, secular societies are going to fall vicim to their inherent vacuum of values.’”  (It’s Really All About God, pg. 190)

and

“While religious people relate their lives to something transcendent, which often means ‘elsewhere’ and ‘later’, atheists are in a position to assume full responsibility for ‘here’ and ‘now’.  They cannot avoid, cover up, or postpone solving personal and communal issues in Some Other Time and Some Other Place with Someone Else.  All that happens, happens in the present.  Every person and moment is precious, unrepeatable, unpostponable, and thus sacred.”  (It’s Really All About God, pg. 191)

It’s tricky to have discussions about religion, especially when beliefs about nearly everything vary as wildly as they do within my particular religious upbringing: Christianity.  There are Christians who believe in the justification of war, and those who are dedicated to radical peace.  Christians who consider America to be most “Christian” nation in history, to those who believe the exact opposite.  Musical instruments, style of dress, use of technology, sexual preference, authority of scripture, and countless other issues are constantly debated and disagreed upon within this one religion.

So, how does one decide what to believe and how to be classify themselves, religiously?

Depending on who is looking at me, or who I am being compared to, I am either fanatically conservative, or heartbreakingly liberal.  Am I whoever I want to be?  Or am I whomever you want me to be?  What about you?

When it comes down to it, you can either look at the beliefs that make up our lives as showcasing how different and separate we all are, or consider the beliefs that show how alike we all are.

I’ve been mostly absent from church services for the past couple of years.  While I would not classify myself as an atheist, it didn’t seem fair to call myself a Christian either.  While the term “post-Christian” is an appropriate description of much of western Europe, it seemed a rather arrogant distinction to put upon myself, no matter how accurate it seemed to describe my spiritual state.

But, with this discovery of Samir Selmanovic, a Christian with answers for some of my toughest questions and some questions for answers that I didn’t even know that I held to, I feel like there still may be room for religion in my life.

I’ll leave you with one final quote from Samir’s book, and one that has stuck with me the most.  It’s Samir giving a summary on what someone would possibly gain by following Jesus:

“Follow me, and you might be happy-or you might not.   Follow me, and you might be empowered-or you might not.  Follow me, and you might have more friends-or you might not.  Follow me, and you might have the answers-or you might not.  Follow me, and you might be better off-or you might not.  If you follow me, you may be worse off in every way you use to measure life.  Follow me nevertheless.  Because I have an offer that is worth giving up everything you have:  You will learn to love well.”

May it be said that we all “learn to love well”.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The video was exactly the breath of fresh air that my religion-weary lungs needed to take in.  I started a quest to learn more about this man, this book, and this new perspective on my faith that might rescue it from the toilet bowl it has been sitting in for the past several years.

I became a fan of his book on Facebook, ordered his book from Amazon, and basically fell in love with his spirit and perspective on the most important things in life.  Samir is a sage.  I highly recommend his book to people that ponder the mysteries of life, God, and one’s relationship to the “other”.

To give you a unique look at Samir, check out this video that his daughters made to encourage people to NOT purchase this book:

Click here to view the embedded video.

I don’t want to discuss too much of the book without you.  I want you to read it and talk about it with me and others on this website.

If you’re still not sure what this book is about, and you aren’t much for watching videos, check out this interview of Samir by Robin Russell.  Here is my favorite quote from Samir from that interview:

We are going through a period where what it means to be religious is changing. Religion has to adjust to an interdependent world. In the past, the strong city was a city with big walls. But today, the strong city is the city that has more bridges and airports and links. Links make you strong, and links are also boundaries, so we can have our identity. If our roots go deeper, we can afford to take off some walls.

So, if you can’t find the book locally, just buy it here.  If you want to talk more about this book through this website, let me know in the comments.  If we have enough people involved, Samir may be willing to participate in a group Skype chat with us.  Sounds pretty great to me!

Cheers and Namaste!

My son and I at a community service project last Fall.

This morning, while sitting at the kitchen table, the question that I had expected my son to eventually ask me, was finally asked. After taking the self-applied clip-on tie off of his undershirt, buttoning his top button, and correctly reseting the tie, he looked at me and said:

“Daddy, why don’t you go to church with us?”

Kim happened to be walking down the hall, but she heard the question and raised her eyebrows at me as if to say “He’s your son!” She realized that this was going to be a man to man conversation, and continued to the bathroom to prepare herself for the upcoming church service.

I looked into my son’s earnest eyes, and contemplated his even more earnest question. As many parents do, I weighed the merits of a short answer that would stop his questioning (but be less than truthful), against a more truthful answer than might take a series of answers and explanations about things that he might have trouble wrapping his mind around. Today, I chose to give him the more honest answer.

I told him that it was because of my beliefs. Although the church and I share some of the same beliefs about living a moral life, we differ on so much more. The main difference, as I told my son, was the church’s view of the other, the outsider, the adherent of another faith, and/or the unrepentant sinner. This church (like many others) believes that after death, certain people will end up in some sort of hell. For most of my life, I have believed the same. But in the past few years, for a variety of reasons, I no longer do.

Before explaining anything else to him, I let him know that despite his desire to be just like me in so many ways, his beliefs would have to be his own. Whether my words of explanation will have any more influence on him than my actions, only time will tell. But, I wanted to express to him how personal everyone’s beliefs are, and how they should have some measure of respect.

After describing hell as a place where people were sad and crying for ever and ever, and where God could not/would not ever see them or rescue them, my son replied that he did not want to ever go there. I told him that some people believe that the population of hell is made up of people who deserve to be there. I shared with him my belief in a God who would not create someone who would eventually end up in hell. In fact, I read a great quote in a book by Samir Selmanovic just yesterday:

“I have become convinced that a God who favors me over others is not worth worshipping.”

In the end, my son walked away with a couple of new thoughts about God and hell, and an apparently sufficient answer about why daddy wasn’t going to church.

Really, I just can’t wrap my head around the belief that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and at the same time that God is the creator of this mess that falls short of Him. If God is responsible for the situations in our life that lead us to make choices, then He is also somewhat responsible for those choices. If He is not responsible for those situations, then everything is just chance and chaos. God cannot judge our actions justly if we are all playing with different pieces on often vastly different game boards.

I’m sure that I could say more about this, but I’ll save it for another time.

Not believing in hell is just a stone’s throw away from not believing in “sin”.  In light of my Christian upbringing, this is a belief that challenges much of what is commonly understood about the purpose and nature of Jesus, the namesake of Christianity. If there is no hell, and there is no sin, then what was Jesus all about? If he was just a great moral teacher, and not God incarnate, then this changes everything. Depending on what criteria you use to classify a Christian, then you may not consider me one anymore. To be honest, I myself often wonder if I should claim that for myself anymore.

I feel like I’m a sort of religious no man’s land. Where I’m going to end up is unclear (pun intended). I just know where I don’t want to be:  In a place where God loves me (enough to give me life in heaven) more than he loves other people (so little that He lets them die in hell). If you’ve found some place where I could find myself more at home, please let me know.