"Why do you believe [in God]?"

"Why do you believe?" - That was the question I was asked early on Sunday morning and I have been mulling it over for the last 8 hours.

Why do I believe in God?
I suppose the simplest answer is because I have believed in God for as long as I can remember and I cannot imagine not believing in God.
Those who know me, know that I am not adversed to questioning and scrutinising religious teaching, scripture and authority. I do it all the time. It's my questions, my doubts and my criticisms which shape my faith.
But never, not in my darkest moments or times of doubt have I not believed in God.God simply is part of my life.

In my mind seeking God is deeply ingrained into the human psyche, whether we are religious or not, or believe in God or not. Perhaps we call that seeking by different names.
I know that I can only speak from my own perception and experience, so forgive me if I do, but I sometimes wonder how atheists can deny that God-shaped hole in their lives. The only way I can imagine it being denied is, well, by denial.
(I am sure many of my atheist friends will disagree. And that's okay. I'll probably hear about it.) :)

To any who at this stage feel inclined to say "So you believe in God. That's fine ... but which of the thousands of G/gods out there??" I would reply that I don't think it matters all that much. Religions are simply human attempts to put the concept of God into human words.
Different religions seem to emphasize different attributes of G/god(s) and at the same time share many similarities.
But outside of all those human concepts G/god(s) does exist or not. Regardless of what we believe about him/her/them (or not).

Why then am I a Christian?
I am sure much is to do with culture and familiarity. If I was born in Afghanistan I'd be more likely a Muslim, if in India a Hindu. It just so happens that I was born in Europe into a Roman Catholic family.

I think my criticism of Christian doctrine may put me on the periphery of Christianity. I quite like the words of Richard Rohr who calls it "being on the edge of the inside". That sounds like a good place to me!
Occasionally people have said to me that I am deist, not a Christian.
I disagree.
Despite being on the edge of the inside, I feel quite firmly part of the Christian faith. Perhaps it's the person of Jesus that keeps me there. Jesus, who said "If you have seen me, you have seen the Father" and "I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you" leaves me believing that his teachings, words and example are worth reading, mulling over and putting into practice.

By that I don't mean blindly following what others tell me. Quite the contrary. It requires me to dig deep and search for myself what it means to "be like Jesus" in this world here and now, wherever I go and whoever I meet.
I know how Jesus' teachings fitted into first century Palestine because the gospel writers left their records.
And I know from Paul's letters how he felt it should be applied as he travelled to other countries and engaged with other cultures.

One of the beauties of the Christin faith is that we believe that we are all flawed and prone to make mistakes. And that gives me the right, or even the responsibility, to scrutinise what others think and say about my faith. And to discern for myself whether they are right or wrong.
The gospel writers and Paul are not here to live according to Jesus' teachings in secular Britain in the 21st century. But I am!

So yes, I do believe that one day I will meet God and that I will account for the things I said (and didn't say) and that things I did (and didn't do), as well as my thoughts and attitudes towards others.
And it won't do any good to say "I did these things because my pastor or vicar or imam or guru or teacher or parent or husband etc told me so".
It will be down to me, and me alone.

Will I always be a Christian? It may be arrogant to claim that I will, although I cannot imagine ever not to be.
But wherever my faith journey takes me, I don't think I can ever be an atheist and not believe that God is here.

There you have it, @hellboy2112. I don't know if it answered your question, but it has passed a rainy Sunday.
Much love. :)

Non-dualism and social media

Once in a while I love to take time out from the daily grind to make time to go within myself, ponder, search and see what I can find. For me, Lent, Ramadan and Advent offer convenient opportunities to do just that.

This year I took Holy Week off. I had some annual leave remaining, which needed to be taken before the end of March, and the last week before Easter seemed a good time for some soul-searching.
And while I was in the mood, I decided to take some time off from social media too - one of my greatest distractions.

It so happened that during this week I met two men who had quite an influence on me, and who might just turn out to nudge me into a new direction.

The first one was Judas Ischariot.
I had agreed to take part in a reflective church service on Monday evening, one in which each of us read/played the part of one of the six characters from Stephen Cottrell's book 'The Nail' - Peter, the Centurion, Pilate, Caiaphas, Judas and Mary Magdalen.

As soon as I read the parts, I knew Judas was for me. I loved Cottrell's Judas. He was a man of conviction, a man with political hopes and dreams. He wanted the best for his people - freedom from the Roman occupation and from oppressive religious leaders. He wanted political change and his frustration grew when Jesus, the man he believed had what it took to bring that political change, did not live up to his expectations.
Judas, who was so sure that his way was the right one that he took drastic action in the desire to make it happen.

"It is not more love this world needs, but change, leadership, action!" is what he said.

Judas reminded me of some zealous political activists I have met over the last year or so, some who are convinced that the end justifies the means - no matter how drastic.
Judas also reminded me of myself, when I am blinkered and unable to see the other side, take the wider view or stand in the shoes of the other.
I loved Judas. So human, so misguided, so unable to see beyond his own small mind. So much like all of us!
Playing Judas made me cry, and it made others cry too.


Life is complicated and I think it is in our human nature to try and simplify it by taking a black-and-white approach. Much easier to see things as black or white; right or wrong; good or bad - definitely much easier than delving into the intricacies and complications of the finer details and underlying factors.
I'm not usually a very black-and-white kind of person. My world tends to be in shades of grey (perhaps even more than 50) ... although I sometimes secretly envy the black-and-white types, because I think their lives must be easier and less complicated.

But I am reminded that when I step away from the right-or-wrong thinking, I almost inevitably learn new things and gain new insights.
For example, any hardened views I might have had about issues like sexuality, abortion or assisted suicide were impossible to sustain and either crumbled completely or at least softened, when I allowed myself to see the other side, hear the stories, walk in the footsteps of another.

And I like it that way!
Easy answers are often, well, just too easy. Too simplistic!
I prefer the answer being "There is no definite answer".

Cue to introduce Richard Rohr, the other man I met this week. Richard is a Franciscan monk from the US, who describes his Christian stance as "being on the edge of the inside". That's a good place to be.
From Richard I learned a name for the thing I have been feeling for a long time - non-dualism.

Social media in particular is full of dualistic thinking. And it's so easy to fall into it ourselves. So easy to share that simplistic meme, because it is pithy and witty - without querying or challenging its validity and truth.
So easy to join the crowds which declare that...
... atheists are immoral.
... Muslims are terrorists.
... theists are stupid and incapable of rational thought.
... Tories are heartless selfish toffs.
... liberals are lefty pinko communists.
... men are sexist.
... feminists are lesbians.
... gays want to convert us all to homosexuality.
... Catholic priests are pedophiles.
... etc, etc...

Even as I write this list, it becomes easier and easier to go down that road of outrageous, unreasonable and spiteful statements.

Non-dualism - as I understand it so far - encourages us to take a situation, an event, a moment as it is; to consciously try to not give it a label and make a judgement - at least not straight away.
We love to compartmentalise. Are you right or wrong; good or bad; a friend or an enemy? Are you on my side or against me?
What if it is a whole lot more complicated than that?
What if you can even love Judas? Understand his motivations and desires? And empathise?


Where does all that leave me with my involvement in social media? I honestly don't know.
I know that I am tired of being exposed to angry and often hateful tweets and memes.
I know that having taken some time out has been refreshing, almost healing.
I may have to change how I use social media.
I may have to lose a whole bunch of friends and followers.

Perhaps I should be non-dualistic about this and give myself some time to consider it.

For those of you wanting to hear about Richard Rohr and have two hours spare, can listen to his interview here.

12 years a Christian

Today is an anniversary for me - 12 years since I became a committed and practising Christian. I had been raised in a Roman Catholic family, but hadn't given religion an awful lot of thought since leaving home in my late teens.
I had met a life partner, had children, bought a house, gotten married (in that order) without religion in my life.
I had probably always believed in some greater being or force, but had not given it a name.
I had dabbled with paganism (I loved nature and the seasons, still do), flirted with Hinduism (I enjoyed Yoga, still do) and set foot inside a church once in a blue moon (I liked the peace and serenity, still do).

Then, in my mid-thirties, I had a conversion experience. One evening. Alone. In my kitchen.
It was a very personal and precious moment, so I am not going to blog about that. But I want to reflect on the last 12 years.

I started going to a lively evangelical free church - 'Bible-believing', 'spirit-filled', with energetic worship and long sermons. It took a pretty literal interpretation of scripture. Creationism wasn't openly mentioned, but seemed to be covertly implied; homosexuality was frowned upon (in the 'Hate the sin, but love the sinner' kind of way); women had an inferior role to their husbands.
I was never comfortable with those things, but for a long time felt I could hold that tension and accommodate the differences.

In the end it wasn't the differences in opinion which drew me away, but the fact that having different opinions was discouraged. If one had a question, there was only one answer - that of the pastor/leadership.

I can't function like that. In fact, the worst thing you can do is to tell me what I can/cannot believe.
Atheist friends have taught me that our convictions can only be our own. We hold them, we own them and - if we are honest with ourselves - we review them regularly.

I demand for myself an immense level of freedom. The freedom to mull things over and choose for myself my very personal path.
Some call that cherry picking. I call that being true to myself! :)

I find beauty and meaning in all sorts of religious and non-religious traditions, practices and ideas.
I have found a home (for now at least) in the Church of England in a church where nobody tells me what I can and cannot do, where I am respected and appreciated as I am and where the congregation is very active in social justice and in the local community.

Has becoming a Christian made me a different person? Yes and no.
Many of my values have always been there.
Genetically determined?
Implanted during childhood?
Willed by God?
Who knows.

But I find that my faith crystallises certain values out for me and has become a permanent framework to remind me to strive to be a better person. And yes, I believe to strive to become the person God wants me to be.
Principles like forgiveness, perseverance, grace and patience are things which my faith constantly calls me to do.
To not give in to bitterness, anger and cynicism.
To hold onto hope and trust and love. To believe in a better world and our (god-given) ability to build it.

My faith has changed over the years and it will no doubt continue to change. It seems to mature and become clearer and sharper. The more questions I ask and the more difficult conversations I have, the more I understand what it is I believe and why. The more comfortable I also become in being clear and honest about the many things I don't understand.

Despite it's tricky connotations, I have always found the description 'being born again' quite accurate.
Choosing to become a Christian and essentially follow the teachings of Jesus was a fresh beginning and a commitment for me. And one I have not regretted in 12 years.
If you are one of those people who have honed and sharpened my faith, I thank you for your companionship.

Whether you are a Christian or a follower of any other faith or none, I am glad to know you.

Humanism, being a Christian and the parable of the Eaton Mess

When @Naradee12 first asked me to write a piece for her secularscarlet.wordpress.com blog I thought “I can do that”.
… Then I checked out the blog and found myself thinking “I’m not sure I can do that”. There seemed to be a strong anti-religious sentiment and terminology such as “eradication of religion” simply makes me feel a bit uneasy.

I am a Christian. I grew up in a Roman Catholic family but left the church when I moved away from home at the age of 18. For many years I had little to do with religion – although I was drawn into a church service once in a blue moon, for a while dabbled in Paganism (there is still much I like and respect about it) and at some stage developed an interest in Hinduism.

Then, quite unexpectedly, in my mid-30s I returned to the Christian faith and have been an actively and openly practising Christian ever since. My faith acts as a daily reminder to be more caring, more forgiving and more loving, to be less selfish and self-absorbed and to strive for greater things than personal gain, power and reward.
Of course I am not saying that you have to be a Christian to do these things – but simply that for me the framework of the Christian faith acts as a daily and constant encouragement.

Quite often atheists have said to me: “I respect you, but not your beliefs” to. I think that’s meant to be a compliment, but I find it quite difficult to get my head around that statement.
For me the two are firmly connected. My beliefs shape who I am. Where I see myself in relation to God and other people is who I am. To those atheists I would respond by saying “If you respect me you also respect my beliefs, because my beliefs are what makes me!”

I would also say “judge me by what you know about me, not by what you assume to know about me based on your assumptions”.
I am talking about my personal beliefs. Find out about those, rather than judge me by what the Pope said in 1997 or what some Televangelist preached last week or what you were taught in Bible school when you were 7 or by some obscure Bible verse which really gets your goat.
Or simply judge me by my words and deeds … because they mirror my beliefs.

I believe in God
I also believe in humanity.
I believe in equality and in Human Rights.
And I believe in our ability to live together in peace and harmony … and I am passionately convinced that the only way we can create societies like that is to listen to, learn from and respect each other!
I guess that makes me a humanist.

Jesus summed up all religious teachings into two laws: “Love God and love your neighbour as yourself”.
He modelled this by concerning himself with the most needy, excluded and vulnerable members of the society of his time; those you were considered unclean, sinful or undesirable – menstruating women (yes, I know!), adulteresses, tax collectors, lepers, non-Jews, the mentally ill and the physically disabled, to name a few.
He considered religious rules to be there to benefit people, and criticised them sternly when they were used to burden or control people. Religious teachings are there to benefit people, not the other way round.
Jesus was a humanist too!

My hope is that we all be HUMANISTS before we are theists/deists/atheists and that rather than try to eradicate each other we fight for and work towards the humanist values which will build more loving and caring communities.

The other evening we had Eaton Mess for dessert.
For those of you who don’t know what Eaton Mess is, it consists of broken up meringue, whipped cream and fruit (typically strawberries or raspberries) mixed together. Imagine a mashed up Pavlova!
Now, I’m not too keen on cream and my husband doesn’t really like meringues … but we both agreed that in an Eaton Mess all the ingredients really complement each other.
Take the cream out of the Eaton Mess and you no longer have Eaton Mess. And cream on its own is just, well, cream.

I wonder whether there is a lesson for building society.
Perhaps to create diverse, tolerant and understanding communities, we need to get in together, mix with each other and get messy!

Find me on Twitter under @solsikke66