Thoughts on religion
Apr. 2nd, 2005 03:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avanta7This post is inspired by a similar post by my dear friend ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alicefanclub. I appreciate hearing about others' search for God, or spirituality, or oneness with the universe, or whatever label one chooses to apply, and wanted to share a little of my own experience.
Sometimes people seem to think that organized religion should be perfect, and are bitterly disappointed when they discover it is not.
There is no religion that as a whole that practices 100% tolerance, 100% compassion, 100% acceptance. What I try to keep in mind (and remember, I'm a Christian Protestant, so this will be a Christianity-oriented viewpoint) is although Jesus Himself was perfect, and practiced perfect love and perfect acceptance, we, His followers, are decidedly not perfect. We fall far short of the example Christ set for us.
I was raised Baptist. I sang in the choir; I was an active member of my youth group; I went on mission trips. But I always felt tentative about my relationship with God. I thought I believed, but I had doubts, and was afraid of anyone finding out about my doubts. I was afraid I'd be ostracized, or condemned, or denounced. So I kept quiet. And became increasingly uncomfortable.
At 18 I left home and stopped attending church. At 19 I began a ten-year detour into alcoholism and drug addiction. Every now and then during that ten years, I would choose a church and attend for a while, thinking that would fix me, but never found what I was searching for. That didn't happen until I landed in a treatment center and was introduced to the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. It wasn't until I had been sober a couple of years and had come to a new, deeper, more mature understanding of my Higher Power that I felt comfortable enough with my faith to attempt regular church attendance again. By that time I had relocated to Arkansas. (edited to add: The following is not a condemnation of the Baptist church. All I can tell you is what I heard. What I heard isn't even necessarily what was said. Perception is everything.) What I heard from the pulpit of every Baptist church I attended here in the South sent me down the road to the next congregation: condemnation, hellfire and brimstone, and precious little love and compassion. This was not the God I had come to know. Obviously, I had to switch denominations, which is how I ended up a practicing Methodist. Methodist doctrine most matches the God of my understanding, at least for now.
Let me tell you about my Higher Power.
He loves me. Period. Nothing will change that: not anything I ever did in my past, not anything I ever do in the future. God loves me beyond all measure. I can disappoint Him, I can fall short of the standard He sets for me, I can even turn my back on Him and walk away, but He loves me.
This is the greatest source of strength I have.
My faith continues to evolve. I have questions. Did the Resurrection and the Ascension actually occur? Was Jesus real? Is there an afterlife? Sometimes I wonder. Still, I choose to believe.
I know this is truth: practicing my faith brings me comfort. I find solace and peace in the ritual of communion, in the singing of the hymns, in communal worship, in the call and response, in all the liturgical practices my congregation utilizes throughout the church year. All I ever wanted was a little inner peace. Alcoholics Anonymous helped me find it, and the Methodist church helps me keep it.
P.S. I love the television series Joan Of Arcadia. The God depicted in that show is more or less the God of my understanding.
alicefanclub. I appreciate hearing about others' search for God, or spirituality, or oneness with the universe, or whatever label one chooses to apply, and wanted to share a little of my own experience.Sometimes people seem to think that organized religion should be perfect, and are bitterly disappointed when they discover it is not.
There is no religion that as a whole that practices 100% tolerance, 100% compassion, 100% acceptance. What I try to keep in mind (and remember, I'm a Christian Protestant, so this will be a Christianity-oriented viewpoint) is although Jesus Himself was perfect, and practiced perfect love and perfect acceptance, we, His followers, are decidedly not perfect. We fall far short of the example Christ set for us.
I was raised Baptist. I sang in the choir; I was an active member of my youth group; I went on mission trips. But I always felt tentative about my relationship with God. I thought I believed, but I had doubts, and was afraid of anyone finding out about my doubts. I was afraid I'd be ostracized, or condemned, or denounced. So I kept quiet. And became increasingly uncomfortable.
At 18 I left home and stopped attending church. At 19 I began a ten-year detour into alcoholism and drug addiction. Every now and then during that ten years, I would choose a church and attend for a while, thinking that would fix me, but never found what I was searching for. That didn't happen until I landed in a treatment center and was introduced to the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. It wasn't until I had been sober a couple of years and had come to a new, deeper, more mature understanding of my Higher Power that I felt comfortable enough with my faith to attempt regular church attendance again. By that time I had relocated to Arkansas. (edited to add: The following is not a condemnation of the Baptist church. All I can tell you is what I heard. What I heard isn't even necessarily what was said. Perception is everything.) What I heard from the pulpit of every Baptist church I attended here in the South sent me down the road to the next congregation: condemnation, hellfire and brimstone, and precious little love and compassion. This was not the God I had come to know. Obviously, I had to switch denominations, which is how I ended up a practicing Methodist. Methodist doctrine most matches the God of my understanding, at least for now.
Let me tell you about my Higher Power.
He loves me. Period. Nothing will change that: not anything I ever did in my past, not anything I ever do in the future. God loves me beyond all measure. I can disappoint Him, I can fall short of the standard He sets for me, I can even turn my back on Him and walk away, but He loves me.
This is the greatest source of strength I have.
My faith continues to evolve. I have questions. Did the Resurrection and the Ascension actually occur? Was Jesus real? Is there an afterlife? Sometimes I wonder. Still, I choose to believe.
I know this is truth: practicing my faith brings me comfort. I find solace and peace in the ritual of communion, in the singing of the hymns, in communal worship, in the call and response, in all the liturgical practices my congregation utilizes throughout the church year. All I ever wanted was a little inner peace. Alcoholics Anonymous helped me find it, and the Methodist church helps me keep it.
P.S. I love the television series Joan Of Arcadia. The God depicted in that show is more or less the God of my understanding.
