why i believe

In the comments to my last post, Albert asked the following question:

I'm sure we could find a secular humanist who shares many of your same ideals like working on the problems of the homeless. So tell me, what additional meaning do you derive from framing your ideals within a particular religious framework?

It's a reasonable question, especially in light of my statement in the same post that actions matter more than beliefs. If I can work on the same issues without believing in God, why bother with all the strange doctrines that were developed centuries ago by people who didn't understand the world the way we do now? If actions matter more than beliefs, why believe?

In one sense, the question doesn't make sense to me. It's like asking, "Since we all come from different towns, why even have a home town?" We all come from somewhere, and we all have a framework for belief.

So, as I said in my own comment, the only answer I can give is a subjective one. I have never found apologetics convincing anyway, and I don't think I could create a convincing argument myself. What follows are my own answers, based on my experiences.

Why God?

With the remarkable advances we've made in this age of science and technology, why believe in God at all? Is is rational to believe in the 21st century that this world is governed by supernatural forces, when science can give us natural explanations for nearly every phenomenon? Why not trust in human reason instead of ancient mythologies?

First, I'd like to say that I don't think reason and mythology (or science and religion, if you prefer) are mutually exclusive. Sure, reason can answer a lot of our questions, and solve a lot of problems. But there's a whole realm that is outside the scope of reason, even without appealing to God. Science may explain why the sky changes colors as the sun nears the horizon, but it won't answer why we think sunsets are beautiful. Granted, neuroscience may one day explain exactly what is happening in the brain as we look at a sunset, but that's not the whole story. Science may explain how our brains are functioning as we listen to music, read a poem, or look at a painting. But that's not going to tell us what art is, or why we appreciate it.

Along those same lines, despite one scientist's claims to have discovered a God gene, science can't really tell us much about the supernatural. In fact, by definition, the scope of science is limited to the natural world. Anything that is beyond nature is simply not testable by science. The rational response is to remain agnostic. And if we were purely rational beings living in a purely rational world, we would have no reason not to choose the rational response.

But is that the kind of world we live in? Consider an analogy from mathematics. In the early 1930s, Kurt Gödel discovered one of the most startling properties of mathematical logic. Dubbed the Incompleteness Theorem, Gödel's proof demonstrated that no system of mathematical logic could be both consistent and complete. The theorem can be explained in non-mathematical terms thus:

Within a given system of logic, it is possible to construct self-reflexive statements, that is, statements that make statements about themselves. If we construct a statement (S), that states (S) cannot be proved true, what can logic tell us about (S)?

Either (S) is true or it is not. If it is false, then it can be proven true, and thus is true even though it is false. That would make the logic system inconsistent. A statement cannot logically be true and false at the same time. On the other hand, if (S) is true, then the system cannot contain the logic to prove it. We may know intuitively that it is true, but we cannot know it according to the rules of logic. To find the answer, we must step outside the system.

Gödel's theorem does not tell us anything about the existence of God, but it does tell us about the world in which we live. It's a world where logic will never give us all the answers.

So if I'm going to make sense of some of my experiences, I shouldn't necessarily expect to find a logical explanation. I'm not denying that reason has a lot to teach us; I just want to recognize its limits.

Do my own subjective experiences prove the existence of God? No, but then I'm not trying to prove God's existence; I'm only trying to explain why I believe.

Why Christ?

So that's why I'm a theist and not an atheist. But, of all the religions in the world, why Christianity? Is it just because I grew up in a "Christian" part of the world? If I had been born in the Middle East would I be Muslim today?

Those are difficult questions, and if I look honestly at my faith journey, I must admit that my culture and my upbringing have played some part in shaping my beliefs. I have no doubt that if my experiences had been different, I would believe differently.

I also know that my beliefs have been shaped by mystical experiences and by chance encounters that have made a sudden impact on my faith journey. Are these the result of God calling to me, shaping the course of my life? I believe so. But why would I have these experiences when many people don't? I can't answer that, other than to say it's not because I merit favorable treatment.

And that leads me to my next point: I believe in grace. Regardless of the cultural element in my religion, I am drawn to Christianity because of this belief in unmerited favor. No matter who we are or what we've done, God gives us better than we deserve. I can't describe how liberating this concept has been in my life. All I can say is that, as I've seen examples of it in my own experience, I have come to believe very strongly in grace.

Which leads into my next point: As I've traveled on my journey of faith, I have seen how the biblical story meshes with my own life. When I read about Jacob wrestling with God, or Isaiah being humbled by meeting God in the temple, or Amos's preaching about social justice, or Jesus's proclamation of the coming Kingdom of God, or, yes, Paul's teachings about grace, it resonates with my experience. And not just the Bible, but the history of Christianity speaks to me: I feel some form of kinship with St. Francis of Assisi, who gave up physical comforts to have a richer spiritual life; with Dorothy Day, who struggled for many years before finding God's; with Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Oscar Romero, who stayed loyal to the call of Christ in the midst of turmoil in their nations, though it cost them their lives.

I won't pretend I have the level of faith any of these people had. But their stories resonate with my own. In that sense, subjectively speaking of course, I find truth in both the Bible and Christian tradition.

Can a person find the same sort of truth elsewhere? Certainly. So who is right and who is wrong? Isn't that what religion is all about? In a word, no. It's not fundamentally about being more right than anyone else. It's about responding to God's call and being faithful to that call, however the call comes and wherever the call leads.

Why Methodist?

I grew up attending the United Methodist Church, but I didn't learn much about its teachings or its distinctive focus. In high school I became friends with a bunch of Pentecostal kids, and for a while thought I should become Pentecostal too. Then I went to a Lutheran college, where for the first time I got a real appreciation for God's grace. As I left college I tried to sort through my beliefs and find a church where I fit.

Surprisingly, my journey led me back to the United Methodist Church. I've alluded above to the four sources from which I've learned about God: Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. Surprisingly, John Wesley, founder of the Methodist movement over 250 years ago, identified these same four sources for learning about God. They are known in Methodist tradition as the Wesleyan Quadrilateral. Maybe I absorbed this framework in childhood without realizing it.

But it's not just the doctrinal framework that I find meaningful. Wesley also stressed the importance of putting faith into action. And that leads me back to where I began: Actions are more important than beliefs. Despite my own journey of faith, which has led me deeper into Christianity, I can join with those who have different theologies (or none at all) to work toward a common cause. Perhaps, if God is calling me to accomplish a goal, then the other people working toward the same goal are being called by the same God.