Brussel Sprouts, Anyone?

I've had many opportunities this past couple of years to talk with people of faith, particularly Mormons, about my own lack of faith. Some of these conversations have gone better than others, but they all generally have that moment when the person to whom I am attempting to explain my journey looks as if they are trying to swallow brussel sprouts. No offense to the sprouts. But you know the look, as if they are choking down something completely distasteful. Like me with stewed tomatoes! And on some level, I do understand the reverence these people hold for their beliefs, the sacredness of the topic of faith. But what I don't get is why, how, and when their view of me changes and they start to see me as someone who is ignorant, stupid, or just evil. (See Kathryn Shultz on the subject of wrongness).

I like to think of myself as a thoughtful, intelligent person, and I would think that most of the people who have gotten to know me over the years would see the same. I've had many conversations about religion, beliefs, politics, education, books, movies, people, ideas; conversations that have gone on late into the night and at great length, attempting to figure out what this life means and the purpose of our existence. And how others view the world and our place in it as humans. I've always been very interested in understanding where ideas come from and how people attempt to explain their views and their reasons for believing as they do. I've sought out different opinions and have enjoyed reading books, particularly biographies, that tell of lifestyles vastly different from my own. The point is that I don't consider myself to be ignorant of the world and the many philosophies that exist. And I don't think I'm stupid; I did graduate from Utah State University, Summa Cum Laude. And I certainly don't feel evil. I asked my husband just last night, "How can the feelings of peace and happiness I'm currently experiencing possibly come from a dark place, from Satan?" He couldn't answer me. But I grew up in the Mormon church, and I know what is said of me over the pulpit. I know that as a heretic I'm viewed as dangerous and deluded, someone in desperate need of rescue from eternal damnation. But someone to be avoided as well, as I could potentially poison other's testimonies and drag them speedily down to Hell.

I do not wish to offend my many Mormon family members and friends. In fact, I love Mormons. They are generally a good-hearted, well-intentioned people, interested in the betterment of humanity, in spreading joy and happiness, in serving those less fortunate. I look around me in church at my ward family (yes, I still attend with my family as it's a simple way to show respect for their beliefs and support them in their quest for salvation), and I see people who are happy and at peace in their worship of their God. People who, were they to look into my heart and head, would look down on me as an apostate, an ignorant fool, a wolf in sheep's clothing. People who would see me as ignorant, stupid, or just plain evil.

But I'd like for them to consider another possibility. Maybe I do know what they know, and I am thoughtful and intelligent, and I am not under the influence of the great deceiver, but I simply see faith and truth in different ways than they do. I don't look at the same story, and come to the same conclusion, but not for any of the above-mentioned reasons. And I haven't figured out why yet, though I'm working on it, but I do think that sometimes beliefs are not under our control. That while we can control behavior, we cannot simply choose to believe something we don't believe. I've tried, for 49 years I tried. I gave God more than equal time. I read his books, attended worship services, went to the temple countless times in a quest for a deeper connection with the divine. I sought him out in all the ways I'd been taught: prayer and fasting, service, scripture study, callings, tithing, even serving a mission to spread the word. But to no avail. I've asked many, many times for God to remove my disbelief, to give me a believer's heart, to strengthen my ability to see Him in my life and in the world around me. To help me believe on other's words, primarily my husband's, for whom it is all so simple. But I've finally had to accept the fact that I do not believe. I have a skeptic's heart, and try as I might, I cannot change that fact. I cannot continue to ask myself to believe something that I don't believe. I have to allow myself to accept that, in my heart, I am not a Mormon, nor even a Christian. Very hard words for me to write, but also very true. I haven't quite settled on a label yet, and I'm okay with that. I'm okay with uncertainty for the time being, with the idea that there are some things in life that are not knowable, at least with the limited, finite brains we've been given. And I'm okay with the idea that there are many people who disagree with me. I'm not okay with the idea that because we don't agree, one of us is ignorant, stupid, or evil. Just different, diverse, unique. And okay.

There is one question that has come up pretty regularly in these conversations, and that is if I would please keep an open mind, open to the possibility that God is there, and is waiting for me to come back. My response is simple: to all the believers, are you willing to keep your mind open to the possibility that I am right as well? Can you entertain the notion that someday, you will agree with me?

How about if we just agree to love one another as we are, to accept one another as fallible human beings, each of us on a quest to understand the mysteries and purposes of life. Nations will never come together in understanding until we come together as people, as neighbors, as families. As individuals, entitled to our own stories. As children of a loving God, or not.