Yesterday, I started working on this post about God and how I feel about faith, particularly when times are troubling. But, reading over what I was about to post, I deleted it because, well, it was full of a lot of platitudes, didn't come to any definite, satisfying conclusions and made me sound like I was really wishy-washy about God. The fact that yesterday and this week have been trying times when I've wanted to ask for help or guidance or prayer made me feel like a hypocrite, and I was ashamed of that. I needed help, but it's not good to God to just use the concept of Him whenever I feel like it. I frown upon people who do that, and I didn't want to be one of them again.
I feel I understand faith in God enough to respect people who legitimately have it, and I acknowledge that I don't. I'm not saying that the possibility of God doesn't exist. I'm saying that I can't firmly grasp one choice or the other. And I feel that it's better for me if I stay on the fence about it, for I can't keep causing myself and others stress by playing jumping in and out of the God pool. And I respect the faith of others enough not to be a playful dabbler with God (or at least not an outward one).
It's not that I feel I'm above religion. It's not that I don't understand religion. It's not like I feel I'm unworthy of forgiveness, if those are indeed the rules and the request for forgiveness is required.
I just, if you get me on this, know enough to know that I don't know and won't know.
I still seek answers. I discourage most "witnesses" from coming to me in that light. I try my best to understand and respect how it works, and, doing that, I withdraw from the game.
It's like dodge ball, I guess. If you don't want to get hit with the ball, don't play.
Don't be an Indian-giver with God, either. "Today, I believe." "Today, I don't." No, if God is God, then God deserves commitment. If you come, come to play. If you're not sure, don't pull yourself in and out of the game at will.
Growing out of my on-again, off-again Christian phase, I try not to play, and I've found this stance works for me. I understand it. But I don't get it enough to really believe it.
So, when I'm curious, I ask people what I want to know. I own a Bible and reference it when I want to know something. I try not to pick and choose from statutes of Christianity, creating a "faith" that works for me. I don't think you should design your own concept of "sin" like you're picking out an outfit. "I want to be a Christian and want to be gay, so I'm just going to say that God's all right with me being gay even though, according to some people's Christianity, it's not." I don't think it works like that or should work like that.
So, last night when I was talking to my cousin Holly about some real big troubles I was having, I talked to her about how I would pray for help with them if I thought that didn't make me a giant hypocrite or Sunday morning Christian. I acknowledged that, last night, having a little faith would've been comforting.
When my cousin Holly told me to try prayer anyway - to find a way where I could both pray and have prayer be all right to me and not ring false, I admitted to her that I, who don't admit having faith, sometimes cheat and pray.
"What, like 'Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub?'" Holly asked me.
I told her that, when I want to cheat and pray, I look in the sky and talk to the constellation Orion because I can see it there in front of me, and it helps me align my thoughts and see things in a better perspective. (I don't think it's creating a false idol if I know that I'm really praying but, at the same time, don't have to admit it. The artifice of using a go-between keeps me from having to completely give in. Does that make any sense?)
It makes me feel guilty to pray, to be honest. Like I used to feel about masturbation. Where you do it and then you feel all guilty knowing that you just did what you said you weren't going to do.
My cousin Holly told me that I should maybe talk to our late, great Grandma, whom we're comfortable acknowledging as both real and as a spirit. She mattered to our mothers, and she mattered to us. And she was smart, loving, difficult, bossy and taught us by example how to be proud carriers of our family legacy. Holly asked me if I was comfortable talking to Grandma.
Grandma's favorite prayer, the Serenity Prayer, was what got me on this train of thought yesterday, actually. Faced with troubles, I recited it over and over. And I wasn't sure what I believed and what I didn't. Or if it was right to pray or not. Or if it was pride or common sense that kept me from asking for help from something a little bit unreal. I just needed help.
So I kept saying it.
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen."
Things aren't fixed. But, and it almost pains me to admit this, things are better.
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