I wish to share my testimony of faith once again, and this time with certain subtleties in mind entailing my skepticism as well as my idealism.
The purpose is never to deliver an irrefutable argument for coercing the beliefs of others, but to accurately explain my own experience-- clarifying where either criticism or affirmation is due. If you - regardless of your background and convictions - are able to relate with some aspect of my journey and receive it as a challenge (as opposed to a cute story with a religious conversion as the cherry on top), then I have fulfilled my job faithfully.
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I grew up in a Christian home, where attending church twice every week was our habit. Dad had a paid position as the tech pastor, mom sang volunteer in the choir, and I received my allowance for reading a Bible chapter daily. I experienced baptism before finishing elementary school, since I saw peers doing the same and salvation made sense to me as a formula. I was a Christian by default, as I inherited the beliefs of my family.
Then came adversity. A close friend turned his back on me without any words. Romantic hopes led to humiliating rejection. More on point with the subject, the church leadership fired my father on terrible terms while I was ridiculed as a nerd at my clique-based youth group. If God was my loving Father and the church my brothers and sisters, how could He let my dad lose his job among the holy people, and why was I treated no differently than at school by my spiritual siblings?
Skeptics may scowl here, seeing that my disbelief began with a personal bias against God and the Church. Too often, people of faith generalize this sort of hostility as the central rationale of an atheist, when often those without a belief in God arrive at their position through objective reasoning. I apologize that this stereotypical assumption abounds. I admit only that following those trials and at the outset of my high school career, I referred to myself as an atheist (I might have more accurately described myself in some ways then as an agnostic or misotheist-- one who acknowledges God but hates Him). In any case, my shifting worldview soon strayed from its emotional emergence, drifting more toward a foundation of cold logic focused on three key areas.
First, I thought that explanations of evolution given in my science classes were sensible enough, where Biblical theology seemed counterintuitive. If God is merciful and just, why does He damn people who never had the chance to hear about Him?
Second, I found from a practical perspective that I was more independent as I turned from God, having a flexibility to define my personal moral code and pursue friendships the way I wanted. I justified my rage, lust, and envy while still holding standards against active promiscuity, and shed my nice-guy tendency where I felt it would help me win the approval of my peers.
Third and lastly, I noted that skeptics should be the sincerest sort of truth-seekers, for their conclusion holds no promise of a reward in the afterlife and alienates many family and friends in the present. Atheists appeared dogged in discovering any difficult falsehood, whereas Christians seemed dogmatic only for defending their own views.
This summarizes the first segment of my journey from a passive, cultural Christianity to religious skepticism-- first out of despair and rebellion, and afterwards by intellectual objection against God and His people.
I am going to make a transition here for the next leg of my adventure. This second chapter follows an opposite pattern - traveling from mind to heart - yet I want to be clear that this is very different from a reversal of my course. I did not turn back nor slow down. I stubbornly followed the exact same path - valuing truth and reason with a tight grip on my hurts and questions - and discovered a new direction through its crossroads by the kindness of those pilgrims who met me along the way.
I would have remained content and confined with the friendships and freedom of my life at this point... if not for those meddling youth of my new church and their God. I didn’t want to attend their Thursday night service, but my parents still brought me every week. I felt out of place with my all-black clothing and quick-to-curse tongue, yet I had amassed enough Bible knowledge to (impersonally) participate in the discussions.
I quickly learned how dangerous this was; even from a hypothetical perspective, it became increasingly clear from my youth group’s teaching that the Biblical worldview contains reason capable of withstanding my questions. Not every skeptic would allow this to faze them, given that seeking these answers requires an openness to the possibility of the supernatural-- a reality beyond what can be observed and tested. Still, in my case walls of doubt promptly crumbled, as the ancient document I dismissed as superstition held a consistent integrity - between its pages and in relation to the world - I could not explain outside divine inspiration.
What’s more, I now saw in my youth peers a manifestation of love absent from all my other friendships. They accepted me as a part of the group, despite my obvious differences and desire to be somewhere else. I experienced my first positive friendship with a girl (it sounds silly now, but was very significant then and began a change in how I would perceive and treat women).
Even then, it was not enough. Hearing doctrinal arguments and receiving Christian community were meaningful and played a part, yet they were impotent to bring radical, saving change into my life. Before this could happen, I had to personally uncover one lie and encounter one truth.
The lie: it was impossible for me to have faith in Christ. As much as I now respected the Bible and appreciated my youth group, I still wrestled with doubt. I couldn’t see myself becoming one of them; I hoped to set off on my own path, leaving the church behind, after graduation. Where would I ever start, when lingering questions haunted me for whether the God behind worship, prayer, and Bible study would respond?
One friend was instrumental in dispelling this deception, as he compared faith to driving up to the split junction of a freeway, while your parents give conflicting directions from the backseat. To remain passive in such a situation is unthinkable. You would drive either to the left or the right. The point is that even when you are most uncertain, you can choose to act in a way which reflects what you trust to be true… which is faith.
This in turn led to my collision against truth, when I read and finally understood Romans 5:8, that “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I rationalized Jesus’ sacrifice as something endured for a cleaned up, future version of myself. Only at this point did I recognize that God’s desire was directed upon me at my very darkest and dirtiest, and it indeed pierced me at that crucial time.
Using my words and strength as a weapon, I had intentionally and mercilessly committed deep harm to a former friend, a young girl... all over the pettiest of offenses. I was no psychopath, yet I suffered the fall of a tragic hero. I saw that when I became god, my conscience could not keep up with my ability to behave as a monster.
That’s who God chose from before time. That’s who Christ hung on a cross on behalf of, joyously. I was relentlessly and undeservedly loved, and forgiven for my eternally blasphemous transgressions. My heart leaped light-years ahead of my mind as I decided to live my life in trust of this truth… solely because it captivated me.
Now, I use impassioned language to describe this transformation looking back, yet I should clarify there was no heavenly light or utterance of tongues. I simply read a verse. The following revolution was as gradual as it was dramatic; it wasn’t until a year later that I confessed my conversion to my youth group, and another year after when I was baptized. In that time, I continued fumbling through church, prayer, and the Bible in awkward faith. By God’s faithful relationship through these disciplines, I underwent spiritual metamorphosis for how I practice love and find joy.
Perhaps I am a “weak” skeptic, since I did not keep up my fight until every claim of Christian belief was objectively verified. I moved forward and received those answers along the way. Since then, I’ve used my critical perspective to strengthen my faith and relate with others... though I admit that it did not play its role alone.
Perhaps I am an idealist, and I see no reason to be ashamed of that likely possibility. I think this is a part of myself and my mind as much as skepticism. Additionally, it puts me in the company of C.S. Lewis, who discovered Christ through the desirable longing of joy - found in imaginative stories - more so than by cold logic.
Perhaps I was never truly an atheist, although I considered myself to be. God says He has made Himself plain through creation, that He wrote eternity on our hearts, and that He is not far from any one of us. This does not mean my doubt was completely insincere or that atheists in general are intentionally lying, but it does expose me as a fake who nonetheless is saved by grace.
I took my faith and doubt, skepticism and idealism, knowledge and ignorance… and laid them before Christ. He did not disappoint in the journey that followed. Whether you are weak or strong, I hope you recognize this redemption as messy, beautiful, and available for you to take hold of-- despite and through every yearning and hesitation He designed you to carry.
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