I read something today that made me think.
On Saturday morning I stumbled out of my bedroom and flopped on the couch fighting off the last of my sleep and basking in the glory of the weekend. Two days that I don't have to deal with school, after school classes and really stupid people that never seem to go away. Since nothing happens to work in my house, I never got to see the thing on the 'Gospel of Judas' on the NG channel. A bit put out by that, I figured I veg out on the computer. Popping onto Fox News, I just wanted to see what was going on. I saw something about Katie Holmes and decided that I had nothing better to do, might as well watch some of it. It popped up and low and behold underneath lay a report on the 'Gospel of Judas'. Click.
I watched it. I love the mystery of religion. I love how there are all of these unlocked doors. I love the mysteries not only behind my own religion, but others as well. I don't know what it is. The tradition, the wonder. It's so powerful. Being a Lutheran, I'm always commenting on how the catholics have all this mystery, and I'm always getting retorts from my mother like 'So, What? You want to become catholic, talk to your grandfather about that." Yeah, okay mum. But, I love walking into cathedrals and just taking it all in. The magnificence of the building and the art. I love it all. From the complexities of the rosary to the stations of the cross. Don't get me wrong, I love my church in the states, the homey feel that it has to it and the welcome that I feel as I sit in the pews. The only problem is that it's too new. I have an attraction to history. This is probably why I was so attracted to this story about the 'Gospel'.
So I'm watching it, when dad comes in and starts asking me about it. I'm sitting there telling him that there's this priest bloke that is like really intelligent and is actually making a decent argument and not just throwing science aside. This is something that I have a problem with, on both sides of the religion science spectra. Generally, if one side does something it is completely thrown out by the other side. The other day I was caught in a battle during science class about the statement that there is 'no proof for special creation'. Sorry, but there is about as much proof for the idea that God created us as there is for evolution and all that. Personally, I have a mixed belief. I like to take ideas of science and blend them with my faith. Honestly, I find the Adam and Eve story slightly hoaky, but I don't disregard it completely, I believe that some amount of evolution occurred...but monkeys? I don't really like to go there. Why not pigs? Just a thought.
Dad said that the priest bloke had a blog too. So, I looked at it today. Never got around to it on the weekend. Father Jonathan Morris is the smart priest bloke. I read his blog. The story that caught my eye wasn't his news stories but his story about his choice to become a priest.
This intrigued me because in a way, the story has mirrored my wonderings about my faith. No, I'm not becoming a priest or anything. But, seriously, I have had a lot of God moments in my life. In the last five years really. I used to sit in my room at night crying and praying to anything that would listen that I just wanted to go somewhere that I belonged. I wanted to go home. I would sit in that same room praying that our best friend's daughter would somehow pull through her cancer. I prayed in China for our best friend to pull through her own cancer, and now again I am praying for their daughter to pull through yet another bout of cancer. To think, four years ago, the only reason I went to church was to make my mum happy, while I was sure that there was no faith left in me. I would sit in the pew and pretend to pray while everyone else was really praying. What were they praying for? Was there really a God or is this all just some big sham? These thoughts were always running through my mind. I think it was when my grandfather passed away that I found my faith again. While people found only sadness and anger with God, I developed a sense that there was a reason for this. Maybe now, he wasn't suffering so much. Maybe now, he was in a place with my uncle and my great-grandparents. Maybe that was my call. While I was searching for proof of God, I forgot that faith was the only proof I needed. Somewhere inside of me there was this voice telling me to believe. That there was a reason to believe. Believing didn't mean that I would have to throw all my ideas of the world out. But in making that choice I chose an entirely different path for my life. Before I was confirmed I don't know where I was. Lost in my own adolescent mind. One day thought, I stood up and all of a sudden, Holy Communion really meant something to me. I was no longer embarrassed to cross my self. The wine that I always looked forward to on Sundays became something bigger. That dry wafer that got stuck at the roof of my mouth became different. Suddenly, faith just made sense. And I was happy again. I wasn't always dwelling on the bad in my life. There seemed to be good things too. I don't know how to explain it. But it all made sense from then on.
I sound like I was one of those 'alleluia I saw Jesus I'm saved' types. It really was nothing like that. I was always raised with the faith. At one point though, I just found it childish for some reason because I was seeing things with different eyes. The question is, what would have happened if I hadn't listened to the voice that was somewhere inside of me? Would I be the same?
There are somethings that are just funny that way.
Whether you find God in a church, in a Bible, in another person, in a light, or even in you walls (my analogy My walls are like god, they listen but they never tell and they're always around me), I guess one day we all face our pivotal decisions as to whether we put God away somewhere and never look at it again, or whether we keep God somewhere that is always accessible to us and even others.