Make Me Believe

I don’t believe in much anymore.

I don’t believe in people and I certainly don’t believe in myself. I don’t believe in love or relationships. I don’t believe in goodness. And as much as I hate to say this, sometimes I don’t know if I believe much in God. I’ve always identified myself as a Christian, even before I really understood what Christianity was. I’ve also always struggled with what Christianity means to me, what God means to me. And what do I mean to God? Once again, being at the Showbread concert made me shift my thinking from enjoyable music to much darker things. While simultaneously reflecting on my wasted youth, I began questioning my faith. Before the last song, Josh Dies spoke to us and said the only reason why they were a band was because they believed in Jesus Christ. As the crowd cheered, I could feel the conviction in his voice. I just knew for sure that he one hundred percent believed in what he was saying and I was jealous of his faith. That sounds pretty terrible but I was. I wonder if I was ever one hundred percent sure about my belief in God. I think a lot of it was “fake it ‘til you make it” faith. I felt if I prayed hard enough and believed hard enough, one day it would be real, that God would open himself up to me and I would feel His presence. I’m still waiting.

I used to think it was a good thing that I was never raised especially religious. My parents told me about God but we never went to church. I ended up going to Sunday school with my cousins when I was younger. My dad dropped me off at my grandmother’s house and she’d take my cousins and I to church with her and we’d attend the first service and then Sunday school, which another cousin of ours taught. The problem is most of the time my cousins and I just goofed off. For me, it was more play time than learning about God time. I guess I can’t blame myself too much because I was just a little kid and everything felt like play to me. That was the extent of my religious upbringing. Meanwhile, all the children who would become my friends were being raised in the church, next generation Christians whose parents were already strong followers of Jesus Christ. They learned the Bible, never missed church and were brought up to be good little Christians.

I grew up around these friends and actually learned more about God through them than I did with my parents or attending church. Church was never my thing. I was never comfortable there. I went to several churches and they were all basically the same. It raised my blood pressure when the preacher would start yelling. I can remember their veins throbbing along their necks, how their perspiration ran down their beet red faces. They stood on the pulpit screaming and jumping around, inciting a riot of “Hallelujahs!” from the pews. They were feeling the Holy Spirit a little too much for my liking. You could say I was never a fan of the fire and brimstone method of preaching. I preferred a more person approach to God. I wanted to be a good Christian like my friends. I wanted to have faith in something, believe in God and know that He’d take care of me.

My journey into faith began along the same time a depression set itself inside of me. I still haven’t figured out if it was the normal teenage hormonal depression that all adolescents go through or if it was something more serious, more lasting, but I turned to Jesus to counteract my depression. Jesus would save me from that sadness. Jesus would save me from myself. After all, He did die for me. I read my Bible and prayed constantly. I mean, constantly. I prayed over every meal and when I’d wake up in the morning, throughout the day and right before I went to bed. I even began attending a church that I found tolerable.

I was happy but not as happy as I felt I should have been. Now, I think I felt happy that I was “doing the right thing.” I felt like I was taking on the role of a Christian, doing everything right. I wasn’t thinking or saying or doing anything sexual or sinful and by trying to be as Jesus-like as possible, I felt good about myself. I felt disciplined, structured. But I never felt Jesus. I asked Him into my heart numerous times. I said the prayer of salvation over and over, hoping that each time I was finished I would feel full. I always felt like I was winding up a sort of spiritual jack-in-the-box. I enjoyed turning the crank and listening to the music but there was no pay off. Jesus never popped out and harpooned me in the heart. I think my box was broken. I didn’t let that stop me. I prayed and prayed and nothing ever changed. Although I was happy to be going through the motions of a Christian, I still never felt like one. I didn’t feel that closeness to God, that peace that I was told so much about. I read my Bible and went to church and prayed and was kind to everyone and talked to God all the time but that underlying sadness never dissipated.

I was never baptized. I’ve heard so many conflicting stories about baptism. I had some friends that stated it was a part of being saved. You have to be baptized to be saved. Other friends said it wasn’t necessary to be saved, just your way of showing God your obedience. I wanted to be baptized but because of my crippling fear of being in public, I never did. That brought about a lot of guilt inside me because it made me feel like I was ashamed of being a Christian, ashamed of proclaiming my love for God in front of everyone. That wasn’t the case. I was in church, a place filled with those that loved God so it wasn’t that I was embarrassed about that. I was just embarrassed in general. I was painfully insecure and did not want to go up in front of a bunch of strangers for any reason at all, be it religious or otherwise. And just the fact that so many people have so many opinions on not just baptism, but of other issues as well, that confuse and frustrate me. There are so many versions of the Bible and it is written in such a way that it has many interpretations. I don’t feel I am intelligent enough to read and decipher the Bible on my own and when I ask other people about it I always get different interpretations. The fact that there doesn’t seem to be one solid answer about anything makes me question everything. What if I’m not living the way God wants me to after all simply because I misinterpreted something from the Bible that I thought was correct but, in fact, was not? It’s almost like what is the point of living appropriately anymore when I’m living on assumptions?

To make things worse, we got a new Sunday school teacher one day and he told us that after the lesson, he wanted each one of us to get up in front of everyone and tell them how Jesus hadtouched our lives. I felt my Adam’s apple drop into my colon. No way I was doing that. He then said if we didn’t get up and say something, it meant we were ashamed of God. Thanks for the guilt trip, dude! So, when the lesson was over we all went to sit back down with our families. And sure enough, eventually all the other kids got up and talked about how Jesus had touched them. I wanted so bad to just stand up and say something, to show I wasn’t ashamed but my nervousness held me by the throat and I just couldn’t do it. I felt worse than I had felt in a long time. I left after the service was over and never went back. I didn’t think it was very fair to be bullied into believing, forcing faith in people. I felt I didn’t need to prove to anyone that I believed. I knew I believed and I knew how God had been working in my life and I didn’t have to stand up and say it to make it real.

I think my religious period was more of a phase because after I left the church, I slowly stopped reading my Bible and eventually cut down on the prayer. I think I felt a little burned out on all the God stuff. It didn’t help that I wasn’t feeling any better about myself or any closer to God because of my efforts. In a way, I gave up. I never stopped believing in God but I guess I stopped counting on Him to make me happy. God became more of a background character in the story of my life.

And then college came and I became more conflicted about my views on God. I prayed and prayed that He would make things better but He never did. But God was with me. When the whole situation came up about trying to find another room to get away from my roommate, a room actually became available. The thing is, that just doesn’t happen. Since so many kids to go that school they always have every room filled. It just so happened that the room I was able to get was empty because one guy never showed up and the other guy never used the room because he was staying in his girlfriend’s dorm. I felt it had to be more than a coincidence that both people appointed to one room did not live there. I felt like that was God looking after me and saving me from my roommate. On the other hand, there’s a part of me that feels silly to think that God intervened and gave me my own room. Doesn’t God perform bigger miracles than that? So, while I felt that was God’s work at first, sometimes I wonder if it was just a big coincidence. I mean, it’s not exactly anything to take to the pulpit with but then again, who’s to say? God works in mysterious ways and sometimes He works small and quietly.

Even though I got my room, I didn’t get my dreams of conversing with a wide variety of people, dreams of finding and bettering myself, dreams of becoming relevant. I didn’t make any friends, didn’t produce any great works and in the end, all I have to show for my time at school is a lousy piece of paper and over one hundred thousand dollars of debt. It’s not that I blame God for that. Obviously, it was my responsibility to enjoy my time and use it wisely. As much as I hate to say this, I guess I just feel like I deserve more? I’ve tried to be a good kid all of my life, tried to be a good Christian all of my life and I guess I feel God owes me something. I know that sounds horrible. Why hasn’t God blessed me with friends? Why can’t I get a job, not just in animation, but in anything? Why is everything still so hard for me? Why do I have all of these physical afflictions that keep popping up all over my body like a series of plagues? Why am I still empty? Why am I still stuck here? I know that’s not how God works. I know my relationship with God shouldn’t be an exchange of favors. I also know that I have been blessed in so many ways. I’ve mentioned it before. I realize that as bad as I might think I have it, there are people out there physically suffering every day, people who would kill to be as “bad off” as I am. I am not oblivious to how fortunate I am but it doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes I wonder if my blessings are truly blessings or just the hand I was dealt. I’ve always heard that God gives man free will and so maybe He’s just stepped back and had nothing to do with what has happened to me, positive or negative. Maybe my “blessings” come from my parents who worked super hard to provide for me, not God intervening and providing me with all of these things. I guess sometimes I feel like God’s blessings could easily be a series of good consequences, winning small universal jackpots. What if it’s all truly just random chance?

For a long time, I felt like I was glad I wasn’t raised religious because at this point, most of my friends that grew up in church either had religion shoved down their throats so much that they completely rebelled and are now Godless. Others turned into giant prudes. As for me, I was able to find faith on my own and find my own way to God. It was never forced. It was volunteered. Consequently, I felt pretty good about where I was. I was a Christian who could still have fun. I never did anything immoral or illegal but at the same time, I didn’t throw the Bible in people’s faces. I know that is not the way to expose people to God. The only problem with my method of finding God was that I never grew up with a foundation of faith and now that faith is shakier than ever. I think a big part of my wavering belief is that I’ve never felt God in my life. Despite all the wonderful things I’ve been given and the numerous opportunities presented to me, I don’t know if it’s directly because of God or if He sat back and allowed it to happen or if God was ever in the picture at all. That emptiness fills me with a lot of fear. I’ve continually prayed to God to show me some sign of His presence, to let me know that I am saved and that I am going to be okay. And I never saw or heard or felt anything.

In a lot of ways, I feel like a fraud. I’ve talked to a few people that were unsure of the existence of God, agnostics and even some full blown atheists and while I was never offended by their beliefs or lack thereof, I always encouraged the ones with questions to seek the answers, told them about how great God is and even talked to the atheists when given permission or when asked about God. I felt good sharing God with others, like I was passing along a pamphlet of peace to their hearts. I just always hoped they pick it up and read it and believe it. And now I don’t know if I believe it. I feel like a hypocrite. Practice what you preach! Yeah, right.

I think what confuses and hurts me the most is seeing all of these converted Christians giving their testimonies. They used to be atheist. They lived a life of sin and either they broke down one day and asked God to come into their lives or they say that God came after them and since then, everything has been different, everything has changed and become better. What about me? I’ve always clung to my beliefs, always asked God to come into my life. While God was seeking people, I was following behind trying to seek Him and it’s frustrating because if atheists can find God, why can’t I? Is it because atheists need more help than I do? Is it because I already have a little bit of faith to work with so I’m not top priority? Well, that faith is starting to fall.

I feel like I am a naturally open minded skeptic. I tend to try to keep all options open, tend to be open to different ideas. Closing off your mind can potentially lead to ignorance. It’s kind of like with ghosts and aliens. It’s not that I don’t believe but I just haven’t been presented with much evidence to prove they do exist. Of course, there is no definite evidence to suggest they don’t exist. So, I’m open. And that’s kind of how I feel about God at this point. I feel like I need proof, validation. And I guess that’s where faith comes in. Some people probably don’t feel God as strongly as others but that doesn’t mean that He’s not there, that those people don’t believe. Faith is a big part of being a Christian. When in doubt, you have to let everything go and give it over to God and I’ve always had a hard time doing that because of my natural inclination to worry about every little thing in my life.

I know a lot of people would say that either depression or the devil, or both, are working on me right now, trying to turn me away from God. That could very well be. I just don’t know what to do about it, except prayer. And grasping onto what little faith I have left. You know, when things were at my worst, I always turned to God. And now that He is the focus of my frustration, I don’t know where to turn. Things were crappy at school and got worse once I graduated and I felt like God was so far away and that just makes things even worse. I feel more lost and lonely than ever.

Just to make things clear, I am in no way denouncing God or applying for atheism. I think a lot of Christians have doubts at some point or another. And I think it’s healthy to have doubts. If we all blindly believed everything we were told, we’d all be drones. I think the best way to find God is to do it yourself. Of course, it’s great to have help from strong Christian friends and pastors and the like but once you decide to make the journey to finding God yourself, it shows that you truly want know God, that you are not just following what everyone else is doing. I think that’s where I messed up. I think I saw being a Christian as just the right thing to do, a series of rules I had to follow to make God happy. I’m starting to realize more and more that Christianity is not about following rules but about developing a true relationship with Jesus Christ. If anything, the “rules” are just ways of showing loyalty and obedience. You love your parents and want to make them happy so you follow their rules. It’s no different with Jesus. Somewhere inside of me, I still believe in God, whether it be on the surface or at my very core. I hope that belief is truly inside of me and I hope these doubts are only superficial and normal. God has kept me hanging on for years now. My belief in God, my faith in the fact that He will provide for me, despite my fears and frustrations, have kept me from doing terrible things. God has kept me anchored to morality and perseverance. Without Him, I would have given up on everything a long time ago. And so I will continue to believe and pray and continue to hope that it will feel real to me one day, that God will reveal Himself in a way which will be unmistakable to me.

This entry was hard for me to write for a variety of reasons. I had difficulty articulating my thoughts and I think a big part of that is because the way I feel is so conflicted and entangled and wrapped up in every aspect of me. God has been there ever since I can remember and I’ve always enveloped God into my life. And because God has been with me through everything I’ve endured and because I have these doubts, I don’t know if God had anything to do with how I turned out or not. And because everything that I’ve been through has made me so complex, my situation feels too complicated to convey. I also almost feel like I dropped some sort of bomb because everyone assumes that Jesus is my homeboy when He’s more of an acquaintance. To reiterate, this was no in no way me giving up on God, just my way of working out my feelings. I hope that I never give up on God because I know God will never give up on me.

Finally, going back to Showbread, they have a song on their new album that pretty much sums up how I’m feeling right now. Please enjoy the music below and if you don’t want to listen, at least check out the lyrics.

Showbread- "Precursor"
I used to believe in something and something believed in me
But now I see I forced myself cause believing in nothing is scary
Now there’s nothing left to lose and we’ve been wearied and refused
I am an unbelieving wreck. Will you please lift me by my neck?

How do I turn this into something I believe
When it’s something I’ve been told and something I’ve been taught?
How do I turn this into something that I need?
I’ll be lavishly controlled and be someone that I’m not

Make me believe. Make me believe. Make me believe. Make me believe.

Joy and suffering, good and evil, breathing and growing and life
It’s all a fluke, means nothing to me, and maybe nothing is all right
To give up my life to hold on to hope, to forfeit all of me
To believe that something must be true and that truth will set us free

Believing in love, believing in hope, surrendering all of my will
Believing in nothing is scary, believing in something is scarier still

Believing in love, believing in hope, surrendering all of my will
Believing in nothing is scary, believing in something is scarier still

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Everyday Entropy