Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Life is Leap of Faith

Of late my family has been a bit bemused or curious at the description or definition of my faith. My faith and belief in God is firm. But, I assure you, not necessarily in the way a “church” or maybe even my upbringing taught me. Although in all fairness to my mom, she didn't really instill a specific belief in me, she let me discover my beliefs myself.

The Bible, to me is a history – not a verbatim, because it told me so. I believe it was inspired by the love of God, not by his mandate. I do believe the words in red are worth their weight in gold. The Golden Rule wasn't taught by Jesus alone, I will not go to hell/purgatory/the Outer Darkness (which I don't believe in) because I have a tattoo, get shots with needles, a blood transfusion, believe in a woman's right to chose, have friends who are sexually active with their own sex, or eat meat on Fridays (Fast Food Friday's requires beef or chicken prepared in an unhealthy way.)

I can not believe in a God who hates and condemns based on birth, sanctions hate, or rewards people who loudly go to church Sunday after a night (week) of living other than rightly. I do not, absolutely refuse to, believe that God “does things to us.” To me that is a belief that is just wrong on so many levels, I am sure it works well for a multitude of churches who want their parishioners whipped into line. How can people believe they are good when they treat others unfairly, cruelly, in hatred, and believe they are above others? I cannot believe that way.
Yes, this post is all about me. It is not about you, although maybe discussions with you have made me rethink my position (which is a very good thing.) Maybe this post (and I) will anger you. Maybe it will make you think about your own personal norms, mores, and foundations. If so, excellent.

When I was in my 'tweens my little brother died. It was a surprise, because no one saw it coming. I remember the morning my father gathered us in the darkened living room to say my mother was in the hospital, and that David was not born healthy. Pinecone and I both remember him saying David was born “too blue” and with holes in his heart. My mother does not remember this. What I do know is that David's death brought us together as a family. God did not take David to make us a stronger family, God had nothing to do with his passing. But I do believe that how we reacted to his death makes all the difference in the world. There were lessons, lessons to be taken to heart, embraced, and made into my own beliefs. I honor my brother's passing with this tradition, that I should find the silver lining in all things.

To hold the sorrows and why- me's to my bosom (although a mighty bosom it be) is not me, does not make sense. I don't blithely write people off when they are done on this plane, I keep them with me daily, then are never far. But I know that passing is a part of life, it is the inevitable conclusion to birth. I know in my heart that I will see them again, they can see me now, and finally they are without pain and horror. I do not leave them any day without telling them I love them and appreciate them. For I know I may not see them again in this life.