There is a God
I believe that a Supreme, Ultimate, Eternal Being exists . . . there is only ONE . . . and He is God.
I embraced faith in Jesus Christ when I was a youth . . . so, I believe in God as He is revealed in the Christian Bible.
The words of the Bible record that God created everything in the Universe (Genesis: the first book of the Bible) and that He will one day bring everything to an end and an accounting (Revelation: the last book of the Bible).
Though my parents were raised as Christians . . . they did not teach us about God or the Bible. Occasionally my Mother would take me and my brother to a local Church Sunday School, but it was not something that I preferred or chose to do on my own.
When my Grandmother (my Mother's Mother) would visit us she would bring her Bible with her and read to us at bed time. I loved my Grandmother, but I was not fond of Bible-reading or prayer before bed.
I have a modicum of intelligence, I am curious and inquisitive . . . but I have no apparent inclination to spirituality, religion, superstition, or the paranormal. I outgrew naivete and innocence with childhood and have never suffered from gullibility.
I have a gentle and kind heart . . . but I am not controlled, swayed, driven, or compelled by emotion.
Having said all of that . . . I believe in God.
When I heard my Grandmother pray to God, or when I heard my Sunday School teacher talk about God, it stirred no negative reaction in my heart or mind. I never felt a contrary emotion or an antagonistic thought about anything that I saw or heard about Him. I can not say that, "I've always believed in God," because I do not think that is an accurate statement. There are many thoughts or ideas that do not make any sense at all to a child and I believe that notions of the Divine are in that range - for everyone.
At the very base of my personality I am a skeptic. I am very slow to decide, to commit, to choose, to trust, to sign up or join. I stand off to the side and watch and listen. I weigh and measure. I sort things out. I study and think.
I know that some things get into the mix of who we are through our genetic or chromosomal helix . . . and some pieces and parts of who we are or who we are to become soaks in through the world around us . . . our environment.
I have never read anything that made (for me) a valid case about a particular individual having a genetic disposition to faith, spirituality, or religion. Some, who view faith or religion as an emotional or psychological aberration or weakness, claim that people who are inclined to a belief in the invisible are afflicted with an actual physical flaw that developed as they began their evolutionary journey from the womb. Faith or religion is not in our genes!
I have no doubt that many people are only religious because it is a part of the culture in which they were raised. Their parents were religious or spiritual people or a church, or temple, mosque, or synagogue were important institutions that were crucial in their formation. They are religious because of tradition or the development of cultural habits.
Compared to most young boys growing up in the Southern United States, however, my exposure to religion was minimal. I was never pressed, pulled, dragged, coerced, bribed, or cajoled into going to church or attending any religious service. On the few occasions that Mom took us to Sunday School . . . she just took us . . . and we just went. There was no drama, no threats, no arguments or questions. No disagreement and no debate. I can remember having no particular desire to attend . . . but neither did I want to bathe, brush my teeth, or eat my vegetables. There are long lists of things that kids do not want to do and very little of it is life-altering or psyche-shaping.
As I mentioned . . . I heard the Bible read from time to time . . . and I sat in a Sunday School class half a dozen times, but I never felt that I was being sold, programmed, recruited, or persuaded.
Looking back, as someone who has been a Christian now for many years . . . I wish that I had been a little more appreciative of my Grandmother's attention, I wish that I had been a little more grateful that my Mom thought that going to Sunday School might help me grow to be a good person. It was only a mark of my youth and immaturity that caused me to consider such exposures only as chores to be briefly endured. A temporary nuisance that only occupied my mind until playtime could begin doing something else . . . somewhere else.
No . . . upon reflection (and I have done much of that over the years since then) I do not see any evidence that southern religious (Christian) culture wrapped its tentacles around me and drew me in. I was not body-snatched or gradually swallowed up . . . I was not absorbed unwillingly, or willingly by an unavoidable contagion that infected my inner self.
I believe that a Supreme, Ultimate, Eternal Being exists . . . there is only ONE . . . and He is God.
I embraced faith in Jesus Christ when I was a youth . . . so, I believe in God as He is revealed in the Christian Bible.
The words of the Bible record that God created everything in the Universe (Genesis: the first book of the Bible) and that He will one day bring everything to an end and an accounting (Revelation: the last book of the Bible).
Though my parents were raised as Christians . . . they did not teach us about God or the Bible. Occasionally my Mother would take me and my brother to a local Church Sunday School, but it was not something that I preferred or chose to do on my own.
When my Grandmother (my Mother's Mother) would visit us she would bring her Bible with her and read to us at bed time. I loved my Grandmother, but I was not fond of Bible-reading or prayer before bed.
I have a modicum of intelligence, I am curious and inquisitive . . . but I have no apparent inclination to spirituality, religion, superstition, or the paranormal. I outgrew naivete and innocence with childhood and have never suffered from gullibility.
I have a gentle and kind heart . . . but I am not controlled, swayed, driven, or compelled by emotion.
Having said all of that . . . I believe in God.
When I heard my Grandmother pray to God, or when I heard my Sunday School teacher talk about God, it stirred no negative reaction in my heart or mind. I never felt a contrary emotion or an antagonistic thought about anything that I saw or heard about Him. I can not say that, "I've always believed in God," because I do not think that is an accurate statement. There are many thoughts or ideas that do not make any sense at all to a child and I believe that notions of the Divine are in that range - for everyone.
At the very base of my personality I am a skeptic. I am very slow to decide, to commit, to choose, to trust, to sign up or join. I stand off to the side and watch and listen. I weigh and measure. I sort things out. I study and think.
I know that some things get into the mix of who we are through our genetic or chromosomal helix . . . and some pieces and parts of who we are or who we are to become soaks in through the world around us . . . our environment.
I have never read anything that made (for me) a valid case about a particular individual having a genetic disposition to faith, spirituality, or religion. Some, who view faith or religion as an emotional or psychological aberration or weakness, claim that people who are inclined to a belief in the invisible are afflicted with an actual physical flaw that developed as they began their evolutionary journey from the womb. Faith or religion is not in our genes!
I have no doubt that many people are only religious because it is a part of the culture in which they were raised. Their parents were religious or spiritual people or a church, or temple, mosque, or synagogue were important institutions that were crucial in their formation. They are religious because of tradition or the development of cultural habits.
Compared to most young boys growing up in the Southern United States, however, my exposure to religion was minimal. I was never pressed, pulled, dragged, coerced, bribed, or cajoled into going to church or attending any religious service. On the few occasions that Mom took us to Sunday School . . . she just took us . . . and we just went. There was no drama, no threats, no arguments or questions. No disagreement and no debate. I can remember having no particular desire to attend . . . but neither did I want to bathe, brush my teeth, or eat my vegetables. There are long lists of things that kids do not want to do and very little of it is life-altering or psyche-shaping.
As I mentioned . . . I heard the Bible read from time to time . . . and I sat in a Sunday School class half a dozen times, but I never felt that I was being sold, programmed, recruited, or persuaded.
Looking back, as someone who has been a Christian now for many years . . . I wish that I had been a little more appreciative of my Grandmother's attention, I wish that I had been a little more grateful that my Mom thought that going to Sunday School might help me grow to be a good person. It was only a mark of my youth and immaturity that caused me to consider such exposures only as chores to be briefly endured. A temporary nuisance that only occupied my mind until playtime could begin doing something else . . . somewhere else.
No . . . upon reflection (and I have done much of that over the years since then) I do not see any evidence that southern religious (Christian) culture wrapped its tentacles around me and drew me in. I was not body-snatched or gradually swallowed up . . . I was not absorbed unwillingly, or willingly by an unavoidable contagion that infected my inner self.