Improbable peace

Today I went to my parents' church with them for the first time in probably three years. It is the church I attended in high school, and it pretty much represents most of the things I can't stand about church. I could never tell this to my parents, however, because I can't imagine hurting them like that. The physical church building is gargantuan; it is costing so much money to build the structure itself that they have run out of funds and are meeting in the huge gymnasium. It was built on a huge piece of undeveloped natural land where coyotes used to live and was formerly a protected wetland. And then I just get annoyed with the kind of music they play, the way people act, the Israel-worship, the absolute lack of racial diversity, and the content of sermons. Basically, I shouldn't go there because I just think negative thoughts the whole time.

But I am starting to think that maybe it doesn't matter what I think. Maybe it's fine that I don't believe or agree with what my friends and family believe, but they don't need to know that I don't agree. What does it matter anyway? The only one it really affects is me, and I am okay with that. I feel like I am a person capable of loving people a lot, and I am curious if not believing what others believe will change my ability to love, but I kind of doubt it. I think this is my problem-all of the things Christianity seems to offer can be found other ways. For example, I can have peace in the middle of stress by trusting that I can only do things to the best of my ability and leave the rest up to fate, because it is out of my control (much like Christians are told to their best and God will do the rest). And I still feel a great motivation to love others and take care of the poor and needy, because I believe those things are important, whether God told us to do them or not. I guess hope is difficult, because I don't know what to hope for. I guess I can hope that the world will become a better place for my children and children's children and work to actually bring about that change I hope for (liking bringing God's kingdom to earth).

I wonder, then, why I am heartbroken when I imagine telling my three-year-old daughter that though I have told her all about Jesus, I don't believe in him myself--that he doesn't really exist. Unfortunately (or fortunately, perhaps), I doubt she would even believe me that he isn't real at this point. But I don't think that is her being sad that I don't believe in him that makes me sad; it is the fact that she wouldn't have Jesus to believe in for herself. This seems to suggest that I do value, in some way, the fact that I have felt like I knew Jesus and had him in my life since childhood. In fact, I think that the issue of how to raise my children without all of my religious/spiritual issues is why I am having so much trouble with my faith in the first place.

At least in terms of my daughters, I need to just be really honest with them. I think I need to talk about Jesus like he is real and present and able to answer our prayers, but that I need to explain that we don't necessarily have proof that he exists. And more importantly, I need to ensure that they don't get loaded down with all the baggage that comes with Christianity, particularly the guilt and people-pleasing self-denial. I need to instill in them the most important values--the love and generosity--while keeping them from the temptation of legalism. At least that's how I feel today.

The other thing I am realizing is that Christianity doesn't seem to help you out that much, and I am not speaking in terms of money or friends or education or success. And I am not talking about getting to heaven, because I really don't know about that anyway. I am talking in terms of basic contentment and happiness--joy and peace. A person's own ability to manage their emotions and practice self-discipline seems to have a way bigger influence on one's outlook on life. Look at my grandmother versus Fabio, my favorite contestant on the last season of Top Chef. My grandmother thinks being a Christian is absolutely the most important thing in the world, but she is the most miserable, stressed out person I know, has been hospitalized because of a nervous breakdown, feels endlessly sorry for herself, and will most likely die from too much anxiety. Then there is Fabio (okay, obviously I don't really know him, but I feel like he represents other people I have known or do know, like my brother), who sees the good in everything. NOTHING brings him down; in fact, he makes everyone around him happier. He just has the very best attitude about life I have ever seen. I can't tell you if Fabio is just blessed by luck, genetics, a good chemical balance, or pure self-control, but I can tell you that I would choose his life over my grandmother's life every single time. Even if it meant "not being a Christian" and potentially "going to hell." Writing that scares me that I just condemned myself to hell, but I really and truly don't want to believe in Jesus and be a Christian just to avoid hell, because if that is what this faith is about, it is not worth anything.

By the way, God, if you are there, it is about time you intervene and provide some clarity. And I think I do still believe you are there. I don't know if I am capable of believing you aren't.