Would I be bothered if Jesus didn’t really exist?

I was recently asked the following question in response to one of my recent posts:

THE QUESTION:

“Does it bother you that there is very little evidence that Jesus existed at all? It is quite possible historically he did not, as there are no Roman execution records or contemporary writings confirming his existence. I exclude the Gospels as they appear later sometime after 75 AD… I find the New Testament to be a poor moral compass and that rational thought and reason serve as better tools to solve moral dilemmas.”

MY RESPONSE:

First, I don’t base my moral judgments on what the Bible says. I, too, find many (but not all) of the moral recommendations found therein to be outdated and less than helpful. I see the Bible primarily as a resource, not a revelation. I have often said, the Bible tells me more about the humans who wrote it than the “God” it describes.

Secondly, I have considered the possibility that a historical Jesus may have never existed and, I’d like to think that, at this point in my life, my admiration of the character of Jesus would not be too disturbed should that be the case. I would still admire the wisdom to be found in the Jesus stories- even if most (if not all) of them are largely legendary or fictional. In fact, part of me thinks that the actual, factual truth of what Jesus may have said or done is a mystery forever lost in antiquity. It seems that all we can do, at this point, is to investigate the available evidence from reliable sources and speculate endlessly about the rest.

However, I am of the opinion that the Jesus stories are based on some historical figure, even if they are symbolic legends or polemical documents designed to communicate a certain community’s beliefs, values and concerns. I feel the same way about allegedly historical figures like Socrates, Moses, Lao Tzu, Confucius and Siddhartha Gautama. I suspect that historical versions of these individuals existed only to be “deified” over the centuries as stories were told (and retold) by their followers and admirers.

Can we really know for certain as to what any of these individuals have either said or done, considering that it is very likely that none of them ever wrote down or recorded any of their teachings? And, if they did write anything down, can we really be sure that those documents weren’t misplaced or amended by later generations?

I don’t place a lot of faith in the accuracy of human memory, and I have absolutely no confidence in the idea that there are such things as objective, disinterested historians or storytellers. In my view, when it comes to human beings: nobody is neutral.

I have jokingly predicted amongst my friends that, in the centuries to come, historical figures like Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King Jr. and Mohandas Gandhi will become deified in very much the same way.

Ultimately, I think our responses to history and legend will depend heavily on our own personal experiences, available information, cultural contexts and individual trust levels. Even when equipped with the same facts, we all seem to come to different conclusions as to how to interpret the information.

All we can do is make the best use our analytical tools, rational faculties, proven methods and our better judgment in order to discern reliable and meaningful information from errors and falsehoods.

Demons...Really?

Have you ever heard bizarre, nonhuman screams coming from the other room? Have you ever had that eerie feeling in the waking hours where your mind is alert but a heavy pressure on your body prevents you from moving? Have you ever felt a haunting presence closing in on you under the cloak of night? Have you ever done something “sinful” in the privacy of your bedroom only to wake up the next morning to a prayerful parent telling you that they sensed a fierce clash between angels and demons was taking place somewhere in the house the night before?

If you have, I’d love to hear more details about your experience.
But if you haven’t, you are not alone.

I haven’t either.

However, I know many who have had such experiences and the sincere conviction in which they retell their accounts leaves me to wonder.

Just last week, I went to hang out and catch up with a small group of my Christian friends. My friends are complex individuals with memories full of profound experiences who would describe themselves as Bible-believing, orthodox Christian, conservative evangelicals. They are committed creationists and faithful servants to their understanding of God and the Bible. They are compassionate and thoughtful individuals who are skeptical toward the views of nonbelievers, mystics, New-Age types, self-help authors, right-wing fundamentalists, cults, liberals, televangelists, mega-church leaders who advance “the prosperity gospel” and all who accept the theory of evolution. And there was a time, not long ago, when I would describe myself in similar terms.

Over the past seven years, many of us have grown close by working on service projects together. We have participated in each others’ development into dependable friends, mature husbands and responsible fathers.

But over the years, some of us began to depart from the majority opinion and pursue more unorthodox pathways of fulfillment. I don’t think any of us were surprised by this. Even in our early bible study conversations years ago, one could hear subtle hints indicating that some of us thought about God and life’s purpose just a little differently than the rest of the group. These differences would only become more pronounced over time.

During our most recent gathering together, we joked around for an hour or so about random topics such as local job cuts, our kids, the Obama administration and the latest entertainment news. But as the evening progressed, the discussion topics became far more serious as some of my friends began to share stories about their encounters with—of all things—demons.

It began with one person’s off-handed joke about demon possession until, soon, everyone in the room, one-by-one, began chiming in with stories of their own encounters with what they believed to be demonic forces.

It was as if a line was being drawn in the sand and I found myself on the other side of it. Like an outside observer, I watched as my friends reaffirmed their fellowship with similar experiences. As the stories were told, I heard phrases like, “You too!” and “Yeah, that’s the worst.”

The situation was awkward and I couldn’t help but to be cynical; silently questioning both their judgment and my own. How ironic was it that these individuals who sat before me sharing their personal encounters with demonic forces also happen to skeptical and distrusting of the scientific method? How ironic was it that these individuals who believe in demons also told me that they cannot accept evolution with any confidence because it leaves too much unexplained? Functioning with their assumptions about reality, I’d think some invisible and benevolent force controlled my sudden urge to fire off a witty and obnoxious remark pointing out the obvious, double standard here.

I couldn’t believe we were having this discussion. But I listened.

When someone tells me about a demonic encounter they have experienced my first reaction is to place that person firmly in the crazy category. But part of me neither wants to dismiss their stories nor the conviction in which they tell them because they may be indicative of a deeper, psychological reality to which I should pay close attention. Of course, this is an area beyond my expertise and again I am left only to wonder and ask questions.

I struggle with the fact that the Bible has plenty of stories similar to the ones my friends shared that night as its pages frequently describe a supernatural, otherworldly realm beyond sensory comprehension. The noble and appealing character of Jesus is easy to embrace when you focus primarily on his paradigm-challenging command to love one's enemies and his creative parables about the prodigal son, the persistent widow and the Good Samaritan.

But the New Testament doesn’t stop there. It seems to me that in order to embrace this Jesus—according to the New Testament—one must also profess belief in a strange, spirit world where angelic and demonic forces wage a constant and invisible war for the eternal souls of human beings. To embrace this Jesus—according to many biblical texts—it seems that one must also accept the ideas that demons can possess human beings; that certain individuals can wield miraculous powers and perform miracles that defy the laws of gravity and physics; and that a personal God exists and is capable to speaking to and through selected prophets.

When I read what the gospels say about Jesus of Nazareth, I find an inspiring figure that said and did many admirable things throughout his final years. But if I am required to believe and defend far-fetched ideas and speculations about a spiritual realm in order to follow the way of Jesus, then Christianity is a pill that I cannot swallow.

At this point in my life, I don’t believe in a Devil, Satan, demons, evil spirits, or any sort of personalized beings of incarnated evil. However, I do believe that humanity has a dark side; a selfish part of us that desires to satiate our unbridled appetites without considering the needs of others; a dangerous part of us inclined to hate out of ignorance and to kill out of fear; a susceptible part of us easily possessed by the spirits of indifference and apathy. And as mysterious as human evil is, I suspect this dark side of our existence has a biological and naturalistic explanation instead of a supernatural one. I suspect we can find more explanation for the origins of this dark side in the reptilian remnants of our brains than we can find in the tempting suggestions of a mythological serpent.

I find enough in the natural world to be afraid of than for me to occupy time and energy worrying about realms unknown, unseen and—dare I say—imaginary. I have more fear that a stray bullet will interrupt my earthly existence than that any demon would ever attack, influence or possess me.

Interestingly, some would posit one of those circular, conversation-ending arguments claiming that someone who doesn’t believe in demons is not able to believe because they are already under a demonic influence. I have no patience for that kind of exchange.

You can call it what you want, label me however and rely on whichever authority you find trustworthy in this dynamic and ever-changing thing called life. I’m going to try to make sense out of this the only way I know how: by continuing to ask the questions and pursuing explanations to the mysteries.

Struggling with the assumptions of theology

I continue to struggle with 1) the whole idea that humans could possibly know the “mind”, “heart” or “will” of “God” and 2) that this supernatural “God” would intervene and reveal special messages to human beings (especially through one particular culture’s set of scriptures). As I understand it, most- if not all- forms of theology seem to be rooted in these two assumptions.

While I like the idea of using term “God” as being synonymous with “our ultimate concern” or symbolic of “that force within us that seeks truth or liberation,” my “red flags go up” when we start to personalize and give a human face to “God.”

As it relates to Liberation Theology, I’ve been wondering: Do we need a “God” to command us to treat others rightly? Has “God’s” name been utilized to invoke a compassion and justice based out of a fear of wrath or can we invoke compassion and justice through a reverence for our neighbor (which is enlightened by the scientific insight that we are all related in our biology and interconnected in this ecosystem called Earth)? Do we really need “God” to initiate responsive action toward the liberation of captives? Do we really need to be threatened by either earthly or eternal punishment or enticed with material or heavenly rewards in order to for us to be respectful, hospitable and humane towards others? I find it interesting that several other religious traditions manage to invoke compassion and make appeals for liberation without attributing it as being the willed command of a deity.

Instead of being “the revealed word of God,” could the Bible’s commands merely be those human ideas, tribal instincts and behavioral recommendations that gave Jewish and Christian cultures a sense of identity and stability in the midst of those surrounding cultures they considered “ungodly”? Here, I think of the Book of Leviticus and its repetitive commands to, “Be ye not like those people…be like this.” I also recall The Code of Hammurabi, how it was written centuries before the Hebrew Bible, how the Bible shares many of its laws, and how Hammurabi attributed the composition of his code to Marduk, the patron deity of Babylon. It’s enough to make me wonder: Is the Bible a collection of man-made commands that have been imposed by well-meaning people as being “God’s” will?

Maybe my “hermeneutics of suspicion” has been over-developed, but it seems presumptuous to suppose that the alleged creator of our expansive universe would be so wrapped up in earthly affairs that they would communicate their important and timeless message to all of humanity primarily and exclusively through the writings of a special group of Hebrew prophets and scribes who lived thousands of years ago. It’s hard for me to continue to believe that these special individuals were assigned to set forth “God’s” will in their time- for ALL time. As I’ve said before, I think the Bible is a collection of documents written for a variety of reasons by insightful, culture-bound Middle Eastern authors and that its interpretation is based on what some insightful humans throughout history have found in its pages to be meaningful, important and relevant for their own lives.

I’m willing to grant that there may be some transcendent, mystical dimension to life, but my doubts lead me to suspect that most- if not all- alleged mystical experiences could be accounted for with a naturalistic explanation of the brain’s neurobiological activities. While there “may” be some transcendent dimension, I doubt we human beings can be so secure in our certainty that such a dimension exists and that any of us can understand it.

It seems to me that “God” is a symbolic term that we humans often use to describe those aspects of reality which lay beyond our current understanding. If we don’t understand something, we often attribute it to “God.” How and why did I wake up this morning? I don’t know. It must be God. How was my daughter formed in the womb? I don’t know. It must be God. Why was I born into relative ease and privilege? I don’t know. Must be God. Why didn’t that tornado tear through my household as it did so many others? I don’t know. Again, it must be God.

For centuries, the natural sciences have been progressively chipping away at those things we formerly attributed to “God.” Astronomy, biology, physics, neurobiology and meteorology are just a few examples of fields that have made tremendous progress in explaining those things formerly beyond our capacity to comprehend. For thousands of years, cultures believed that “God” controlled the weather and that the weather was a reflection of either “God’s” favor or outrage. Now, I’d dare say, we know better.

At bottom- and at this point in my life- I think we attribute far too much of our perceived reality to the notion of “God.” I get suspicious of any and all who claim to know what this “God” wants- especially if it seems to mirror their own hopes, fears, desires and concerns.

My Issues with Interpretation (Parts I, II & III)

“You will find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
- Obi-Wan Kenobi, Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (1983).

Part I: Thus Saith the Lord or Thus Saith the Preacher?
Last Sunday morning, I observed yet another pastor claim that they were speaking and preaching “What Thus Saith the Lord.” The expectation is that preachers are to present to the people “The Word of God” (understood as the Bible itself) and not their own personal opinion. In the process of preaching, this particular pastor offered a bold critique of scholars, theologians and philosophers who he considers as being too critical and analytical in discussing issues that seem “above and beyond” what he considers the Bible’s “simple” message. He accused these individuals of promoting their own personalities and philosophies of who Jesus was instead of preaching who the Bible says Jesus was. His concerns were apparently shared by many in the congregation who nodded, clapped and shouted to communicate their agreement.

I sat silently as such statements sparked a multitude of thoughts in my mind. For one thing, I think the act of interpretation is far more complicated than he claims. From my own research and experience in seminary, I have grown to be convinced that “nobody is neutral” and that we humans can’t help but form our own philosophical approaches to help us make sense of reality. I am persuaded that every human’s perspective is constantly responding to and being informed by their particular background, social standing, experience, culture, biases, prejudices and concerns. If every human authority is steeped in a particular perspective and bias, then I would deduce that the human authors of the Bible’s contents were also affected by human limitations, tendencies and cultural conditions. Add to that the fact that, a few millennia later, we are trying to interpret those ancient documents and one can see how the limits of humanity only serve to compound the complexities of the interpretive process.

Perhaps it is this difficulty that intimidates many of those who claim to accept certain ideas “by faith,” choosing not to dwell on the complex matters. But what is reality and how do we respond to this reality?

As humans, there are plenty of things that we hope to be true about ourselves and the universe. Many of us hope that there is someone listening to (and answering) our prayers, that our loved ones will be safe from harm, and that we are correct in our understanding of those things that provide our lives with a sense of meaning and purpose. Some of us even hope in a glorious afterlife and a warm reception into an otherworldly realm following the unavoidable moment when our last breath leaves our physical bodies. We humans seem to need something to hope for in order to function.

But if we are honest in facing reality we may discover that a large amount of what we had hoped to be true about ourselves and the universe may prove to be the result of flawed information, mistaken assumptions or grave misunderstandings. What do we do then?

In regards to perceiving reality, I think it is often the case that we humans tend to see what we want to see. We (including myself) rationalize and justify those things we hope to be true despite compelling arguments and evidence to the contrary. It seems that we devise ideas, theories, and meanings to help us understand the complexities and mysteries of reality. Considering this tendency, I deduce that it is unrealistic to expect that we humans can be anything but subjective in our understanding of reality.

By subjective, I am describing our own biased outlooks- perspectives which may not be immediately obvious or apparent to the perceptions of others. The opposite of subjectivity is objectivity. An objective observation is neutral, unbiased and impartial; it is based on facts rather than bias, prejudice, emotion or opinion. The social sciences testify that we humans can never be objective in our assessments because- no matter how hard we try to avoid it- we humans remain confined to our subjectivity.

Retired Episcopal Bishop and author John Shelby Spong offers a similar thought in an article he wrote for http://www.beliefnet.com/ almost 10 years ago.

No human being, no hierarchy, and no church can ever tell anyone who God is or what God is...All anyone can ever tell another person is how he or she or a particular institution believes it has experienced God. All God talk--including all scriptures, all creeds, all theology--is subjective, not objective.

Oh, how refreshing it would be if people would admit to the limits of their own humanity! I think that such honesty and humility would greatly add to the credibility of those who claim to offer us "the truth."

Part II: Attempts to Grasp the Ungraspable
In their book, Why God Won’t Go Away: Brain Science and the Biology of Belief authors and neuroscientists, Andrew Newberg, M.D., Eugene D’Aquili, M.D., Ph.D., and Vince Rause observe that “We interpret and funnel that which our brain tells us is real through our subjective self-awareness” (p. 143).

The authors, relying heavily on the results of their own research experiments and the testimonies of mystics from the world’s major religious traditions (especially contemplative Catholics and Buddhists engaging in meditation), seem to embrace the idea of an unknowable God (or Ultimate Reality) as opposed to a personal (or personalized) God. The authors perceive that the contemplative mystics of various religious traditions typically understand God as being “beyond all comprehension and description, and that all literal interpretations of [this] unknowable nature can never be more than symbols pointing toward a deeper, more mysterious truth” (p. 158).

The authors say a lot about a mysterious neurobiological state of transcendence they call “Absolute Unitary Being” describing it as “a state of pure awareness, a clear and vivid consciousness of no-thing…a sudden, vivid consciousness of everything as an undifferentiated whole” (p. 147). They claim that “[i]n Absolute Unitary Being, nothing is experienced but the pure and complete unity of all things, or of no-things. One thing cannot stand apart from another, so individual beings and objects cannot be perceived. The egotistical self cannot exist because it has no non-self against which to define itself. In the same fashion, God cannot be set apart from this ultimate oneness as an identifiable, personalized being- to do so would be to conceive of a God who is less than absolutely real” (p. 160-161).

They continue, “The perception of an absolute reality therefore, would demand that God be more than a knowable being, and make it clear that all personifications of God are symbolic attempts to grasp the ungraspable…the state of Absolute Unitary Being impresses upon anyone who experiences it, the realization that the God we can know is only a glimmer of a higher spiritual reality, in the same way, perhaps, that a single beam of light implies the glory of the sun…” (p. 161).

They conclude one of their points by saying, “If we are right, if religions and the literal Gods they define are in fact interpretations of transcendent experience, then all interpretations of God are rooted, ultimately, in the same experience of transcendent unity. This holds true whether this ultimate reality actually exists, or is only a neurological perception generated by an unusual brain state. All religions, therefore, are kin. None of them can exclusively own the realist reality, but all of them, at their best steer the heart and mind in the right direction.” (p. 160-162)

I think these authors are really on to something here when it comes to reality and the human attempts to understand that reality.

Part III: The Implications of Interpretation
It seems to me that it is often the case that an observable event occurs and we- the observers- are left to interpret and make sense of the objective facts by creating an understanding born from our subjective viewpoints and the selective evidence available to us. In other words, objective events happen and we come up with subjective explanations to make sense of those events.

One example of this is a simple as a dream. The other day I found myself thinking about the subjective nature of dream interpretation. I have known people (including myself) who have had dreams or visions of bizarre happenings and have understood these as “messages from God.” The interesting thing I began to note in myself is that when I awake from a dream, I immediately attempt to piece together the memorable details. It becomes a strange exercise when I try to identify the fuzzy figures from my dream by linking them to familiar faces and names of those I have known or seen before.

But how trustworthy is this process of interpretation? How do we know when a dream-like vision is an important message or the result of some unsettling neurobiological activity? Living in a country where many subscribe to a biblical worldview, it becomes relevant for us to consider reconsider those Bible stories where characters in the stories receive messages and directions from a dream which serve to warn or to inform them of a future event. Based on such stories, many throughout history have been led to believe that they too are capable of receiving and understanding such messages by interpreting their own dreams and visions.

But this is where I think things can get really nebulous. While I think that one could derive meaning from one’s subjective perception of reality, I take issue when others are expected to accept another’s subjective perception of reality- lest they be condemned by rejecting it.

I have spoken with several people who claim they have had dreams and visions where religious figures such as Jesus, Mary the mother of Jesus, or the Prophet Muhammad have appeared to them. When I hear such reports, questions begin to race through my mind, such as: “Did that really happen?” and “How do they know what Jesus, Mary or Muhammad looked like in order to identify them?” I am not denying that mystical experiences happen, but I wonder how accurate we are in reporting what we experience. Do we just see what we want to see?

Another example of human subjectivity in the face of an observable event is the crucifixion of the 1st century Palestinian Jew known to history as Jesus of Nazareth. Some would claim that history bears witness to this man’s death by torture on a wooden cross. (NOTE: Others would be more skeptical when they consider the sources of most of our information about Jesus’ crucifixion come from the records of his devoted followers who were already convinced that he was the Jewish Messiah and "The Savior of the World." Regardless, these sources indicate that Jesus died within hours of his crucifixion).

The death of Jesus would seem to describe both an objective and a measurable event. But the tricky part arises when those who observe such an event begin to attach meaning, value, or significance to the “cold, hard fact” of the matter. Adherents to a classic and popular form of Christianity would later come to believe that the physical death of Jesus of Nazareth carried a meaning and significance of cosmic and metaphysical proportions in which a sinless being (a divine-human hybrid) willingly and knowingly sacrificed themselves to atone for the sins of humanity and to reconcile humans to a personal God who required such a sacrifice. Many others would deny the attaching of any such significance to the death of Jesus and count this event as they would the untimely death of any other human being who is victimized by human violence. Over the last two millennia, scores of theologians and philosophers have tried to make sense of this event- trying to interpret and understand objective reality through their subjective human explanations and understandings.

This is a prime example that adds grayscale complexity to a reality that was already complicated to begin with. One event with an endless variety of explanations and thus the root of many conflicts and controversies in our modern world.

What is at stake here? I believe that issues of interpretation lead directly into corresponding issues of authority and trust. What sources of information are worthy of our trust? What authorities are we basing our conclusions upon? What are the implications of accepting such authorities? What is our responsibility as humans with the means to think for ourselves? The way I see it, the authorities we trust will have an inevitable effect on our view of reality. In the same manner, our views of reality will have an inescapable effect on our behaviors. And because of this, issues of interpretation carry both constructive and destructive potential.

For example, if I believe that my next door neighbor is subhuman and inferior to me then it is likely that I will not value their life as much as I value my own. Therefore, my actions toward them will inevitably serve as expressions of that belief. On the other hand, if I believe that my next door neighbor is a human of equal worth and deserving of fair treatment and mutual respect, then that belief will also find expression through my actions and interactions with them. Hence, one’s behavior is a natural consequence of one’s beliefs. That’s precisely why this business of interpretation is so risky and scary.

Imagine how helpful it would be if we could bring a biblical author from 2,500 years ago onto Book TV to discuss and answer questions about what they were thinking about and experiencing when they were writing their passages, poems, and psalms. It’s fun to imagine what such a Q&A would be like. I’d like to think that such an exchange would help to resolve a lot of the speculation fueling many of our modern-day debates regarding biblical interpretation. But until such an unlikely possibility becomes possible all we have to work with are fragments of an ancient world and our own opinionated and selectively informed viewpoints about what those fragments meant to the ancients then and what they mean for us in the present day.

I realize that my perspective is limited and I am willing to consider that I may be in error, but I am interested in dealing with reality, not avoiding it. I believe that only by confronting the complexities of reality can we hope to make any progress in this thing called life.

"Welcome to the confusion."- Carmelo Alvarez

The Risky Path of the Truth-Seeker

I am troubled by what seems to be anti-intellectualism amongst Christians. And Scriptures like Colossians 2:8 (about not being persuaded by deceptive philosophies) are troubling for me. Why? Because my studies indicate that ancient philosophers and theologians are largely responsible for much of what is now considered a mainstream understanding of the Christian faith. Ideas about God being "omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent” are concepts and terms rooted in ancient Greek philosophy. Doctrines like “original sin” and “atonement theory” were born from philosopher/theologians like Augustine and Anselm of Canterbury. Christianity began incorporating these and other philosophies as it spread throughout surrounding cultures.

However, I find it interesting and ironic that- in our modern age- those who claim to live by "biblical principles" also make entensive use of these "philosophical" ideas which have little to no basis in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. To reference Colossians 2:8, I can definitely see how many of these philosophies have obscured and distorted the life and teachings of Jesus throughout the past two millenia.

It seems that many biblical literalists only want to be informed by those intellectuals, philosophers and scientists whose findings reinforce the doctrines and beliefs that they want to defend. It's like Martin Luther King, Jr. said in his essay, “Tough-Mind, Tender-Heart”:

Soft-mindedness often invades religion. This is why religion has sometimes rejected new truth with dogmatic passion. Through edicts and bulls, inquisitions and excommunications, the church has attempted to prorogue truth and place and impenetrable stone wall in the path of the truth-seeker. The historical-philological criticism of the Bible is considered by the soft-minded as blasphemous, and reason is often looked upon as the exercise of a corrupt faculty…

Yes, using reason is often seen by many Christians as “the exercise of a corrupt faculty.” But why? Many caring Christians fear that if we question too much we will threaten our faith and lose our connection with God. They fear that we will lose belief or our “spiritual foundation.” I have heard them say things like, “I just believe the Bible...I don’t question it…The Bible is always right…The biblical writers were directed by God…If anything is wrong then I must be reading it wrong.”

To the contrary, there are those who desire to follow Jesus but who cannot seem to find encouragement in their congregations to apply critical thinking to their study of the Bible and the traditional doctrines of the Christian faith. I want to follow the essential teachings of Jesus, but not at the expense of abandoning my own ability to think, discern and reason. I don’t want to be forced to accept as literal any mythological stories and abstract doctrines that have proven to be founded on some ancient person’s misunderstanding, personal agenda, or limited knowledge. I don’t want to find myself feeling threatened by scientific discoveries just because they may contradict what I think the Bible says. And I definitely don’t want to damn most of the world’s people to hell because they don’t share a specific set of doctrinal beliefs.

I struggle with the idea that God is displeased when humans think critically about their beliefs. I suspect that many beliefs branded as necessary to the Christian faith are really additions added for various reasons which include control, conquest, categorization, and conversion…not because they were originally part of Jesus’ message.

Yes, I have to be on guard as to not let pride and bitterness consume me, but I have a conviction that seeking the truth is a good thing (although many of us would disagree as to what is meant by "the truth"). I am on a mission to find out what is really essential to the Christian faith…or better yet: what is essential to seeking God and following the way of Jesus (and what is not!).

I understand the concern of church members and I agree that the path of the seeker is a risky path. But I don’t want to fear the truth or any “new truth.” I want to hear different perspectives. I listen in hopes that my ideas about God might be enlarged and enlightened (although many would probably say that I am now "blind" and in the dark). Yes, I have flirted with my own disbelief to the point that a lot of atheists and agnostics make a lot of sense. And I suspect that they will continue to make sense as long as we Christians continue to preach a message that often comes off as irrelevant, ill-founded and outdated.

Maybe I am too skeptical and maybe I have grown too suspicious, but I want to believe that God wants us to exercise discernment and reason. Where do I go from here? I don’t know. But I have faith that I am being guided towards something worthwhile. I am encouraged by the lives of those who went through similar searches for "the truth": Thomas Jefferson, Marcus Borg, Eric Elnes, Alice Walker, Karen Armstrong, Krista Tippett, Martin Luther King, Jr., Thomas Merton, Mohandas K. Gandhi, Malcolm X, James Cone, Bart Ehrman, Thomas Paine, Bishop John Shelby Spong, and Jacques Kriel...to name a few.

I realize that I might be remembered among the most foolish people in history but I also realize that I might be right where I need to be. I still think I am onto something. The scary thing is that my pursuit of truth may cost me more than I ever expected to give. I just pray my journey leaves me with a tough mind and a tender heart.

A Time of Separation

Right now, my Bible and I are temporarily separated. I needed some space. I still spend a lot of time thinking about the things she’s taught me and I might occasionally check on her from time to time, but we don’t spend time together like we used to. And lately I haven't felt the need to. I thought it would be best for us to become strangers so that we could get reacquainted and understand each other better. So now we are starting over without all the unrealistic expectations of each other.

Our separation was not totally unexpected. I had a feeling this would happen eventually. I just felt like there was more to her than what I wanted her to be. And I didn’t think it was fair to confine her to my unrealistic expectations.When I first met her, I wanted her to be pure, perfect, faultless, honest, and trustworthy. And in doing so I made her my idol- which is dangerous. Though they meant well, the people who introduced me to her didn’t tell me the whole story about how she came to be who she was. But, honestly, I probably couldn’t have handled the truth about her back then. I can barely handle it now.

Over a year and a half ago, I began to find out things about her that concerned me. I came across some negative rumors about her background, the things she has said, the many places she has been, and the people she has been with. I wanted to know what others had to say about her, especially those who had also had strong relationships with her in the past. I wanted to get advice from those who had been through some tough times with her and who could also see her faults. I wanted hear from those who had been betrayed by her broken promises. I wanted to know how they managed to live with her despite her shortcomings.

As it turns out, she wasn’t as pure as I was led to believe. But perhaps she didn’t need to be. We were both human. If I had flaws, why couldn’t she? I came to realize that even though she was “God-breathed” (like me) she was also human creation (like me), complete with her own limitations, prejudices, emotions, and contradictions. And if she and I were to be in a serious, long-term, committed relationship then I would have to embrace her with all of her complexities and shortcomings in order to move forward.

I used to be one of those who placed her up on a pedestal of perfection, worshipping her like a god and promising to be faithful to her above all the others who were competing for my attention. I was one of those people who couldn’t imagine spending a day without her by my side. While I respect such a romantic approach and those who use it, I knew that approach wouldn’t be enough for me. I craved a deeper relationship but I didn’t want to be naïve. I wanted to be realistic because I knew that this woman had some issues that were a little more complicated.

You see, she’s seen a lot of violence in her lifetime. She has been abused by many and some have even gotten into harsh arguments and bloody disputes over her. She’s felt the pain of being ignored because a lot of the people she has been with in the past wouldn’t let her share her story. Most of them didn’t want to hear what she had to say or take the time to understand where she’s coming from. They didn’t want to listen to her talk about the difficult topics and the unforgettable traumas. They just wanted her to be their trophy.

I don’t think we can ever go back to how it used to be. We’re too far gone. While I’ve seen many people benefit from her wisdom, I’ve also seen too many people who have been hurt because of her words. And I don’t know if I can trust everything she says without being a little critical. You see, she talks a lot about the “good news” but many of her ideas aren’t faithful to it. And no matter what she or anyone else says…she is not God. Many people are afraid to tell her when she’s wrong, but she’s human and she has made some mistakes too.

While there are things I love about her there are also some things that really disturb me. But I’m learning to accept her and to deal with her as she is and not how I want her to be. As you can see, we’re long past the honeymoon phase. Nowadays, we are facing the really complicated question that lies at the heart of a committed relationship: How do you accept each other’s shortcomings and move on?

It’s going to take time to work through all of this. When we talk now, which is rarely, she leaves me with more questions than answers. But maybe that’s OK. I may never know all of the mysteries contained within her, but I would rather struggle with who she really is than live with a false idea of who I want her to be.