Atheist to Theist: Faith vs. Logic

May 30, 2023May 29, 2023Chel Owens 35 Comments

(Somewhat continued from last week)

Both during my days of questioning my religion and during my time as an atheist, I needed to find The Truth. I wanted to know, with absolute certainty, whether God existed and in what way He influenced things.

Last week, I wrote about the similarities between religious faith and scientific faith (theist vs. atheist). I realized they were the same and that my issue had more to do with approval from others -AKA social anxiety.

In discussing and clarifying with friends since, I understand that I need to outline another realization I had:

Faith does not need to mean the absence of logic.

Although Mirriam-Webster defines faith as:

It also allows for:

And, even, fidelity of one’s promises and sincerity of intentions.

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In my youth and pre-atheist days, I often felt I had optimism of God’s existence and acted by fear. Like the hasty driver who is late to work, I worried more about whether a policeman would pull me over than about whether my reckless driving might endanger another driver.

Furthermore, what I knew of faith disturbed me. I assumed my accepting God would, by necessity, fit M-W’s “firm belief in something for which there is no proof.” How could believing in God be correct? There is no proof; only over-zealous people’s claims and fantastical scriptural stories. Right?

Wrong. As I said, I came to understand another option: faith AND logic.

Believing in God and what He says can make logical sense -yes, as much logical sense as Darwin’s natural selection, the Big Bang, Dawkin’s Ultimate Boeing 747 Gambit, or Russell’s Teapot. The farmer and the cowman can be friends, existing in a universe where both work together to be mutually beneficial.

I have come to understand God not as a magician with mythical powers but as an advanced being following the same universal laws we humans discover, prove mathematically, and name after ourselves. This perspective is not original nor is it unique; it does seem to surprise those I’ve discussed it with. Why choose a bipolar perspective when everything in life exists on a spectrum of options? Why not consider the possibilities?

And again, why not take these musings and ask God if they be true? Such was my thinking, and such was what I did.

Atheist to Theist: Seeking The Truth

May 22, 2023May 22, 2023Chel Owens 28 Comments

(Somewhat continued from two weeks ago)

Both during my days of questioning my religion and during my time as an atheist, a great point of anxiety for me was finding The Truth. I wanted to know, with absolute certainty, whether God existed and in what way He influenced things.

Whilst on the faithful side (aka, amongst believers), I squirmed at odd expressions that often seemed optimistically ignorant. The experience reminded me of when I sought a good school for my oldest child to attend. I toured several charter schools and a handful of private ones; without fail, the phrase, “the best school” dropped from the lips of those attending. No, the one I ultimately chose was not #1. Yet, parents and staff loved claiming superiority.

Insisting that God exists or proposing that I live as if He does isn’t real. That isn’t faith and belief. It’s fake it till you make it behavior.

I thought, therefore, that my admitting there is no God was a refreshing reset to my thinking and my life; a blank slate upon which to write my own opinions and testimony. From there, I could learn answers without bias or influence.

Instead, the opinions I heard and scornful pride I felt from atheists were similar to theists’ claims of accepting Christ and being saved. The experience reminded me of a section in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy where Man discovers the highly-improbable Babel Fish, a naturally-occurring creature that can translate languages for the user and live off the user’s thought waves in symbiotic repayment for that service:

The argument goes something like this: ‘I refuse to prove that I exist,’ says God, ‘for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.’
‘But,’ says Man, ‘the Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn’t it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don’t. QED.’
‘Oh dear,’ says God, ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.
‘Oh, that was easy,’ says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing.
Douglas Adams

I am aware that Adams did not believe in God. It’s clearly a poke at pursuing logic as religiously as zealots pursue faith.

You see:

Both sides, religious and atheist, are the same. When one removes personal bias toward one or the other, s/he/it sees that accepting God as creator is accepting Stephen Hawking as expert. Believing in The Creation is believing in The Big Bang. Smugly claiming salvation is smugly claiming secular ethics. Assuming eternal life is assuming a return to dust.

I was not finding truth, because I was finding the same dandelions on the supposedly-greener side of the fence! So, what was I doing precisely? While I did (and do) receive answers to my probing questions about life, the most important realization in my journey of faith was that I was not seeking truth in an unbiased fashion. I was, in fact, seeking the approval of others. What made me uncomfortable and anxious was the embarrassment of being wrong.

This realization brings to mind a scripture story found in the Book of Mormon, referred to as Lehi’s Dream. Lehi, a prophet around the time of the biblical prophets Huldah, Jeremiah, Obadiah, Nahum, Habakkuk, and Zephaniah (Footnote 3), has a vision in which he finds some amazing fruit and wants his wife and children to eat it with him.

So, Lehi looks around and sees his family. They look a bit lost, even though Lehi’s standing at a fantastic, glowing beacon of nature. This makes Lehi notice other things, like that there are mists obscuring the way. There’s water and a strait path. There’s a rod of iron that leads up the path, through the dark, and straight to the amazing fruit. There are more people who wander in, and some make it to the tree and eat the fruit.

Then, there is a “great and spacious building:”

And I also cast my eyes round about, and beheld, on the other side of the river of water, a great and spacious building; and it stood as it were in the air, high above the earth.
And it was filled with people, both old and young, both male and female; and their manner of dress was exceedingly fine; and they were in the attitude of mocking and pointing their fingers towards those who had come at and were partaking of the fruit.
And after they had tasted of the fruit they were ashamed, because of those that were scoffing at them; and they fell away into forbidden paths and were lost.
1 Nephi 8:26-28, The Book of Mormon

Whether I wanted to eat of God’s word or not, I was too concerned about the mocking, pointing, jeering crowd of humanity. I didn’t want to appear the fool. I wanted to appear the educated expert.

This same concept is found in my favorite psalm, Psalm 146:

Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help.
His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish.
Psalm 146: 3-4, The Bible, KJV

I wasn’t ready to accept God as my savior and be eternally saved, nor was I ready to trust Him enough to blindly walk across any chasms. I was, however, ready to stop worrying so much about everyone else and instead worry about what God, Himself, told me was true.

Or, to accept His non-existence if no one answered me.

Atheist to Theist: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love God

May 8, 2023May 12, 2023Chel Owens 60 Comments

(Continued, from last week)

I was an atheist.

As such, and as I mentioned before; several matters of anxiety, guilt, and disjoint were better for me. -Religiously speaking. I didn’t believe in God anymore. I wasn’t deluded, guilt-ridden, tied-down, or beholden to any sort of religious nonsense anymore.

*Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com*

Still, I continued to attend Sunday meetings at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had children to raise. (And, if the query comes to anyone’s mind, I believe children need a foundation of religious structure in their youth. They are welcome to deviate from that upon reaching adulthood if that be their choice.)

So, I went. I lived among Believers and listened to their strange observations and conclusions. -Like, a woman’s reassuring me that my unborn child would be a missionary in heaven if he died before birth.

Strange, yes; but I wasn’t full-certain the club of atheism was The Answer to life, the universe, and everything, either.

Atheists were an easier group for me to relate to. I loved the smug surety of intelligence, the self-confidence, the witty ridicule, and the assumption of deep thoughts and deep discussions.

While Christians drawled that, “Jesus saves,” Atheists succinctly posited, “If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes” (Bertrand Russell).

But atheists lacked the ability to answer my specific questions like Why do I exist as a sentient being but my ultimate purpose is to return to dust? and What about those times I know God stepped into my life, or in others’ lives whom I trusted? I experienced a similar phenomenon of general doubts or uncertainties I’d had with theism. Like mosquitoes, the concerns persisted and would not be exterminated. All wasn’t sunshine and roses, even with my accepting that sun and rose existed without fairies amongst them.

I sought answers and discovered inadequacies.

What was I to do?

…

Time passed, without resolve.

…

Then, without God in my life, He stepped in.

I received personal revelation. I distinctly felt that I needed to sign up for an educational-pursuit program the LDS Church operates. At the time, I knew very little about it. I don’t recall my seeking inspiration on the matter nor my asking for direction of this kind. If pressed, I believe someone mentioned its existence and I just knew I was to sign up.

The program is designed to prepare adults for advanced education; it’s a weekly class on life skills, writing and mathematics, and -most unbeknownst to me- religious topics.

As an atheist and a seeker of logical truth, I was pursuing non-religious literature for a presumed ‘balance;’ from that, I went to studying and taking notes on scriptural texts and lectures by LDS leaders.

My attending Pathway was the first step in a long, long hike back up the figurative Mt. Sinai; one I was not keen to take even with my burning desire to know things for certain.

I’d love to leave everyone hanging with the overused, “The rest, as they say, is history.”

How trite and incomplete; particularly if you, like me, seek real answers and actual truth.

But, I feel the time is getting long. And so, instead, I’ll drop a cliché to be continued. Adieu, adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow. Farewell till next week.

Two Poetic Parodies

February 22, 2020February 23, 2020Chel Owens 6 Comments

Now I write when I should sleep;
I write so followers I’ll keep.
If I can rhyme before I wake,
Then approbation I will take.

~~~~~

Two souls converged on a bed of wood,
And told each other, “I’m sorry;” both
And; one, rising, sighed with doubt and stood
And looked with as much love as she could
To his messy hair and undergrowth;
Then thought of another, tall and fair,
And how he had tried, her love, to claim,
Because of a black dress she could wear;
Though the dress was gone; pants hung there
Had, to her mind, an effect the same,
And she therefore turned to bed to lay
In satin folds of sheets grey and black.
Oh, if she’d not want another day!
Yet if he’d not shrug; say ’twas her way,
I know he’d not get cold shoulder, back.
I watch and tell ’bout them with a sigh
Somewhere, sometime, and somewhere now hence:
Two souls converged on a bed of wood,
And told each other, “I’m sorry;” both
And that has made all the difference.

And this is why you go to bed at a reasonable time.

What Do I Believe?

October 17, 2018October 18, 2018Chel Owens 68 Comments

“If you go with the Calvinistic or traditional Christian notion, after Adam’s fall, everybody is totally depraved, and often virtues are just masked vices, and even a good deed done is grace. A personal relationship with God is the right thing… As far as people are concerned, yes, there are a few people who will stand by you, come what may, and they’re worth finding and keeping.”
-Nitin, Fighting the Dying Light

There are frequent times I am faced with a question I’d rather not answer. These queries all seem to fall beneath the subject of categorization.

How old are you?

Where do you live?

What are your political leanings?

What is your writing experience?

What do you believe?

For one so inclined to choose brutal honesty in conversation over tact, my hesitancy to answer these questions might seem odd. I also participate in an online community that may very well be read across the street -or, across the world. Why hold back on some issues?

I might choose to remain in obscurity. Who would care, really? However, many of the writers I follow have recently come out in declarations of belief. If I admire their honesty, surely others will not desert me based on what I admit.

So, what do I believe?

The truth is that I grew up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. A few years ago, however, I read the very entertaining The God Delusion, by Richard Dawkins. If one ever needs his faith dissolved in a few peals of educated laughter, he is welcome to read it.

This is not to say that Dawkins is fully credited with my disillusionment and departure. His voice merely allowed for more enlightened means by which I might attain answers to forever-niggling doubts and concerns. I have since realized the human mind passes through many ‘ages;’ many changes of perspective. I believe that doubt and a removal from the faith of our upbringing happens to most, if not all.

As a child, I was very much susceptible to the explanations and teachings I was given by my parents and religious instructors. These ranged from paranormal to superstitious to wonderful. I trusted that the doubts I had would, as I was told, be resolved with time and faith.

My pre-teen years were spent in rigid conformity of a self-imposed nature. I was, in colloquial terms, a Molly Mormon. I was a Christian Girl, controlling my thoughts and feelings and emotions to the extreme. I exulted in my perfectionism and delighted in my absolute obedience.

That all changed around the teenage years of hormonal outbreak. This may all be tied into mental issues, but the pendulum of perfectionism swung a bit to the opposite side…

As I said, I’m a very honest person. At times I have thought to not attend church because of my personal feelings. I have prayed, consulted scriptures, and argued with a God who sometimes answers.

Most of the time, I withdraw.

I believe my decision to consider atheism may not have been the best, because it seems driven by a desire to self-protect. Others may read about God and conclude that He loves them and holds their life in His hands. I, instead, wonder at the birds He not only allowed to fall but also burned to death in the breath of His voice or the wrath of His hand.

I truly do wonder why bad things happen to good people, or to any people.

I have come back to faith, but from a wary distance. When I think of trusting The Almighty I often feel sick inside. He might take away those I love, remove my health, smite me blind, or cause any number of calamities. And I am expected to say, “Ah. It was God’s will.”

Where I stand on the faith spectrum is somewhere in-between.

Yes, I know that is the lukewarm place where adherents will be spewed out. Yet I also know it is where I am. A toe here or there causes me to shrink back protectively. The middle is the safest place.

Which may also answer a query regarding political leanings.

If one is to set my person on a judgment stand, to vote whether he may or may not listen to my thoughts and opinions, hear this: we are all of us human. It is human to doubt, to question, to make mistakes, and to act based on feelings. It is human to change; to hopefully grow.

My religious life may have its ups and downs, but I’ve come to some revelatory conclusions because of that path. And, as much as I tried to deny it, those conclusions could not have been solely my own.

People like to sidestep a bold embrace of the idea of God by saying, “God,” “A Spirit,” “Your happy feeling,” “Nature,” or, “Whatever you believe.” Fine. None actually knows for certain what is out there. I mean, for certain certain. One can only know based on his personal feelings affirmed by a core spiritual feeling of closure -and that same feeling can be experienced in another person about a completely opposite issue.

And so, like a child, I wait. I trust. I fully expect The Answer of our eternal end will involve a breaking of our consciousness into reusable matter of a collective-mind sort -but, of course, I do not know for certain.

Now that I’ve borne my religious soul, what about all of you? Do you still talk to God? What have you concluded?

A Little From Column A

May 27, 2018May 28, 2018Chel Owens 14 Comments

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I’m fairly private about religion, political opinions, and social security numbers of family.

I keep the last item private for obvious reasons; the first two are more complicated. Mostly, I hate being categorized. My husband doesn’t get it.

“I love being put in categories,” he says. “I don’t understand why you don’t.”

I sigh. “Because I’m not ever put into good categories.”

My 18-40 white male breadwinner who works in the technical industry and has above-average intelligence looks back at me, confused.

From the limited mental capacity of over a decade of child-rearing, stay-at-home housekeeping, and intentional numbing; I attempt to ~~talk~~ expound.

Problem is, I have difficulty. Maybe it’s that limited mental capacity thing I admitted to just now. That, and I am nearly crippled at the idea of conversation. Challenges within conversation take out any other remaining limbs. Finish off with a general uncertainty and low self-esteem, and you’re lucky you caught the words I thought to type tonight.

I do not want to be categorized because of the limitations that puts on my character.

I know that others’ opinions ought not to play into my self-esteem at all. I hear that I should just be me and everyone will love me for it. I think, sometimes, to try it out.

Then, telling the mother of an acquaintance that I think unborn babies preaching the gospel to spirits in heaven sounds wonky gets me labeled as anti-her religion. Asking a close friend to not disparage feminist viewpoints lands me in his radical/liberal/male-stabbing/unreasonable/lesbian camp. Suggesting that making one’s kids dress nicely for special events causes a sudden drop-off in the number of texts from the mother I suggested this to.

Where are all these people who will like me for who I am? Are they hiding in their own categories somewhere?

How can I expect to enjoy the sensation of being stuffed in a box when I’m left to sit uncomfortably, in the dark, and listen to the retreating steps of the one(s) who put me in there?

Picture Source: Pixabay