questions

After GMC Rally I was compelled to give Christianity another try. I have been re-reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan, hoping it will give me a fresh perspective on a God whose existence and nature I have never understood or fully accepted.

As I read each night, I know that I have heard these beaten phrases many times before. “The Beginning and the End, He who was and is and is to come, a love that loves regardless of your past and what you’ve done, a love so convicting that you can’t help but drop everything and follow Him.” These phrases - these words I have heard from many people’s mouths, from many texts both credited and unfounded, from many a poster, from many a video, from many a testimony - they resound like nails against blackboard, choking and unbearable, but perhaps most strongly, they resound dry.

These words are dry to me. I have circled clockwise and counterclockwise on arcs that keep on telling me the same things, keep on giving me answers to questions that provoke yet more questions. Circles are counterproductive, because they get you nowhere. In the end, you’re still on a forever bending curve, one that seems full of direction. But it’s easy to be deceived by robustness, by movement, by the illusion of robust movement.

Christianity is a comfort religion. It is appealing because it offers love to the broken. You trade in joys for sorrows (familiar phrase, no?), death for an afterlife, darkness for light, dust and ashes for streets gloriously paved with gold. Yet all that glitters and shines is not gold. But what’s there not to love if ignorance is an option? Incentive is rooted deep in human nature - we gravitate towards choices and actions that will reward us in some form or another, that will give us pleasure, happiness, and the least amount of regret. So naturally, Christianity would garner the greatest support, those strong and feeble minded alike see the highlights of following Christ, and Pascal’s Wager tops off the present, gift wrapped in bright colors and metallic ribbons.

I will continue to read, but I can’t seem to shake thoughts like those detailed above off my conscience. And what to make of the absolute commitment that Christianity asks of us? It really is an all or nothing deal - after all, isn’t there a huge emphasis on the importance of wholehearted worship and devotion? It’s scary to me that lukewarm Christians seem to be criticized by the church more harshly than blatantly blasphemous Christians. I think Christianity asks of the individual the surrender of a certain degree of individuality, ambition, and character. With a template to follow, default settings to live by, how can one really establish one’s own definition of the good life? I could end up being a lawyer or a reporter or a public administrator, but won’t my guilty Christian conscience always ask of me to be a missionary? How much should I give without giving too little or too much? I don’t see how it’s possible to have sincere dreams/passions and still be a committed Christian. Because your dreams turn into idols and your passions turn into pride, both of which are unacceptable from a Christian standpoint. The only realistic way it’s possible is if your dreams are the same as Christ’s - and isn’t that the objective of every Christian? To be Christlike in thought, manner, action, etc. So we become mimics of perfection, yet are always pathetically far behind him in our growth and maturity. The cycle of Christian highs and lows makes us forever frustrated in our walk with God - we feel inadequate yet continue to chase. We are mutant creatures, whipped, pursuing the unattainable. There is no such thing as a satisfied, good Christian. Christians must always strive for the next level, all the while acknowledging sinful nature. No Christian is happy with his/her relationship with God - if a Christian were to declare satisfaction with it, others would see that Christian as ignorant, one who does not understand the infinite grace and power of God. The disciples of Christ were so compelled that they gave up their livelihoods in fishing and marched onward bravely behind Christ’s footsteps. So are sacrifice and pain interchangeable, or are sacrifice and reward interchangeable? Or perhaps all three form a triangle trade whose net gain is zero?

I am repelled by the lack of defense from Christians of certain questions that I try to tackle. It’s not that I’m poking holes at what I believe most easily exposes Christianity’s contradictions; it’s simply that these questions are the ones that bother me the most. If homosexuality is one day proven by science to be genetically rooted, (mind you, the same science that proves the existence of the Milky Way and infinite galaxies created by the hand of God), who and what should I then be in awe of? The God that loves straights and gays, whose religion is founded on love, but does not allow certain types of love to take hold, or denies a gay’s ability to love? Is a gay’s love wrong - but who are you to tell him how to love and who to love? And what about the Gospel itself - an omniscient, all powerful God who has to prove himself to the world by crucifying His son? If not prove Himself, then what was the point? Why crucify His son - why not just save us from our sins by simply uttering the words from His mouth, equally powerful just not as emotionally appealing? Thus I have returned full circle to the argument of Christianity being the most sell-able religion - we are convicted by emotion at the story of a Father who gave His son, by a love that knew and knows no end, but how much of this belief is founded on truth rather than emotion?

I mean no criticism whatsoever to Christians by this post, but I just find that it’s much easier to articulate my thoughts in writing rather than to verbally or internally jumble thoughts in my head. It’s already confusing enough to begin with. And I'd love to clear the polluted air in my head, if you could help me, feel free. There are also those who will read this and shake their heads in pity, pray for my salvation and turn around, wonder what tragedies bred such cynicism. Well, I've done the same thing at one point in time, pitied and wondered and prayed for other "lost sheep." I can't say it did me any good.