In the house I grew up in, we didn’t talk about Jesus, God, prayer or religion. I am not saying this is a bad thing or a good thing it’s just not something that came up. I didn’t even know there was a Jesus until I was in 3rd grade and someone asked if I had been saved. I had no idea what this girl was talking about. I thought for a minute she meant the skate that saved my foot from being broken when a car ran over it. Yeah, she laughed at me and said “no, are you saved by Jesus?”. “Who is Jesus?” Etc, etc… I thought about it a bit later but mostly I didn’t know what to think. I went to church with a friend here or there, but always came out with more questions than going in with. Why must we have blind faith? Why can’t we question the things that have been plaguing our minds? Why do we feel like we must always have the answers and never falter? After all didn’t god make us, make us with free will, make us with our minds, make us to be curious!? Why do we fight that urge? I was told to not ask so many questions. So I dropped it and quit asking questions and decided that religion, God and Jesus were things I did not need in my life if they were going to cause such confusion.
Don’t get me wrong, I admire, those people who have absolute faith in GOD. Those people that never have to question anything about God or religion. Those people who KNOW how they believe and KNOW what they believe and KNOW who they believe in and KNOW who or what is in control of life. Those people with zero questions. I have too many questions. That isn't to say I have zero hope or faith. My faith has always been in the tangible. Things I can see, feel and touch. I have always hoped things or certain situations would turn out ok. But I haven’t always known they would.
When I became a special needs mom, I have often found myself questioning faith, or lack thereof, more than I ever have. Why? Before having him and even after my first born, I could go on the assumption that most people were correct when they spoke about religion, faith, God and all that. I had questions, but mostly, left it alone. I never really gave the subject much thought and I was happy this way. Of course, there were people in my life that tried to push it on me but I just let them rant and went on about my business. After having him and being exposed to a world that can only be described as wonderfully heartbreaking, way more questions and anger than answers or peace arose.
How does God exists? Why does God exist? If God is a spiritual being how can Jesus be his physical son? If God has a plan for everyone, why does his plan include such bad horrible things for some people? I am still unsure of a lot of things. But as I am older I realize it’s OK to not accept everything in blind faith and have questions. Like when a Dr suggests a certain medication or treatment for your child. Do you just say OK and go along with it or do you ask questions first? I believe in medicine and have faith in the doctors but I always ask questions. Why wouldn’t we do the same for the being that supposedly founded our entire reason for existence? Why wouldn’t we ask why every once in a while? Why wouldn’t we seek out answers about the moral boundaries of mankind? Why wouldn’t we look for answers to our most pertinent questions? For isn't it better to believe in God and Jesus with questions than to not believe at all?
Through my quest to find answers to these questions. I found a great church with a pastor that has questions of his own. I could not believe it, a pastor admitted to having questions. What world is he from? The people at this church have taught me so many things that I knew were under the surface but needed to be let out. I have learned to love others. I have learned to offer to do things for others and follow through. I have learned to not be so judgmental of others. I have learned acceptance. I want to be a better person.
I was telling my brother-in-law one time how angry I was about God allowing this situation for my child but also in the same sentence telling him I didn’t believe in God. His response was perfect, “How can you blame God if you don’t think he is real?”
Such a profound and thought provoking question in such an innocent response. A question that I have asked myself over and over again, since that evening. A question I still don’t have an answer to. I do believe in a higher power, is that God? I do believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ. Is that God? I do believe in the soul. Is that the holy spirit?
I don’t have an answer to any of the questions I have asked. Not one single answer. But I finally feel like it’s ok to ask them. I also feel like I am getting to know that part of myself. That deep, under the surface, part of my soul.