I've been inching closer and closer to faith lately, and while I still identify as an agnostic, I have known moments during which my soul may have been calling to God, and during which it may have received some echo of an answer.
Beautiful moments, those. I won't try to describe the happiness of them, except to say that they made me want to be a better person just so I could deserve them. That's God's love. Maybe (Cue my standard agnostic rant about how it could just be brain chemistry and the power of suggestion– I can be really annoying about this stuff).
But I'm told that there's another side to it: God is infinitely merciful, but He is also infinitely powerful, and we are born sinners. The free gift of God's love is on offer to us at all times, but the unendurable fury of God's wrath always threatens us. Almost all of mainstream Christianity tries to point us to the ladder to the ladder to Heaven, and what a beautiful message that is, but it also warns us of the trapdoor to Hell.
As an agnostic, I spent most of my religious energies dreading Hell (or trying to convince myself that there definitely was no God– better a meaningless vacuum of a universe than one where I'm damned to eternal suffering)– as I move closer to Christ, I've been spending more and more of those same energies hoping for Heaven.
Which is lovely, but I know I'm supposed to do both at once– when I pray to God, my heart, in its best moments, is full of love and awe. When I feel that my quasi-faith has hit its limits as something less than true belief, the old fear comes back. The pieces are there.
But I know that the pieces need to be connected, and I don't know how to make that happen. I fear and love God depending on my current disposition or attitude towards Him: the more I believe, the more I love. The less I believe, the more I fear. There's a famous line in a movie– you've probably heard it before: "I don't believe in God, but I'm afraid of Him." I love that line, ubiquitous as it is. It sums up my experience as an agnostic perfectly.
But a believer doesn't vacillate in and out of faith. A believer loves God in their belief, but a believer also fears God because of their belief. Right? Believers experience this love and this fear at once.
IF YOU THINK THIS POST IS TOO LONG, I GET TO THE POINT IN THIS NEXT PARAGRAPH
So my question is: How do I achieve this simultaneity? How do I love something that scares me? How can I fear something that makes me so happy?
I don't think that I have any earthly model for this. My childhood relationship with my parents might come close: I certainly loved them, both for what they gave me and for the intrinsic sense of safety and comfort I felt around them, and it's true that they had the power to harm me, and occasionally did lessen my immediate comfort in order to punish me. But that's the thing: I wasn't afraid of my parents themselves, but of the punishments they gave me. I knew that those punishments weren't there to hurt me– my parents weren't hurting me for the sake of hurting me, nor was I being punished to expiate a crime. The punishment was educational: if my parents didn't think I'd walk away from it a better person, they wouldn't have done it.
In other words, parents punish their children for the same reason that they do everything else: to maximize their ultimate wellbeing. When my parents punished me, they did so out of love for me, not out of anger. I don't yet know when one can and can't say that God loves a person, but as I understand it, He doesn't love sinners, at least not in eternity. An earthly punishment from God might be corrective, but damnation– whether it entails God actively sending a sinner to Hell or simply allowing a sinner to bring Hell upon themselves– is, unlike the punishment dealt to parents by children, not an expression of love. Damnation is not for the ultimate benefit of the sinner. I know some Christians believe that the damned are ultimately purified and redeemed by their experience in Hell, but mainstream Christianity says that Hell is eternal suffering. You don't walk out of Hell a better person, because you don't walk out of Hell. Hell doesn't exist for the improvement of sinners– Hell is not comparable to a parental punishment.
Furthermore (sorry– I know I'm rambling), terrestrial punishments from God differ from punishments meted out by parents. A child being punished by their parents knows what it did to deserve the punishment, and understands that the magnitude of the punishment matches the magnitude of the transgression– you wouldn't punish a child for not helping with the dishes as severely as you'd punish them for getting into a fight at school. But Christians– and not just Christians– always have to speculate about the degree and nature of divine intervention in the unhappy moments of their lives. If I lose my job, is God punishing me? If so, for what? Have I committed a sin that equals unemployment in magnitude? Which of my sins (I think as I try and enumerate my sins) matches my suffering? And if I'm not being punished, why has God allowed me to suffer– is it a test? Is He simply letting things run their course? Should I even be asking about this?
My point is that the fear of God is different from the fear that one feels for one's parents.
I'm so sorry for how long-winded this post is. I feel that all of it helps get my point across, so I'm going to let it stand at its current length, but here's the kernel of it: I don't know how to fear and love God at the same time– I love Him the more I believe and fear Him the less I believe, but I know that if I ever come to believe fully, I need to to both. Help me out?
Beautiful moments, those. I won't try to describe the happiness of them, except to say that they made me want to be a better person just so I could deserve them. That's God's love. Maybe (Cue my standard agnostic rant about how it could just be brain chemistry and the power of suggestion– I can be really annoying about this stuff).
But I'm told that there's another side to it: God is infinitely merciful, but He is also infinitely powerful, and we are born sinners. The free gift of God's love is on offer to us at all times, but the unendurable fury of God's wrath always threatens us. Almost all of mainstream Christianity tries to point us to the ladder to the ladder to Heaven, and what a beautiful message that is, but it also warns us of the trapdoor to Hell.
As an agnostic, I spent most of my religious energies dreading Hell (or trying to convince myself that there definitely was no God– better a meaningless vacuum of a universe than one where I'm damned to eternal suffering)– as I move closer to Christ, I've been spending more and more of those same energies hoping for Heaven.
Which is lovely, but I know I'm supposed to do both at once– when I pray to God, my heart, in its best moments, is full of love and awe. When I feel that my quasi-faith has hit its limits as something less than true belief, the old fear comes back. The pieces are there.
But I know that the pieces need to be connected, and I don't know how to make that happen. I fear and love God depending on my current disposition or attitude towards Him: the more I believe, the more I love. The less I believe, the more I fear. There's a famous line in a movie– you've probably heard it before: "I don't believe in God, but I'm afraid of Him." I love that line, ubiquitous as it is. It sums up my experience as an agnostic perfectly.
But a believer doesn't vacillate in and out of faith. A believer loves God in their belief, but a believer also fears God because of their belief. Right? Believers experience this love and this fear at once.
IF YOU THINK THIS POST IS TOO LONG, I GET TO THE POINT IN THIS NEXT PARAGRAPH
So my question is: How do I achieve this simultaneity? How do I love something that scares me? How can I fear something that makes me so happy?
I don't think that I have any earthly model for this. My childhood relationship with my parents might come close: I certainly loved them, both for what they gave me and for the intrinsic sense of safety and comfort I felt around them, and it's true that they had the power to harm me, and occasionally did lessen my immediate comfort in order to punish me. But that's the thing: I wasn't afraid of my parents themselves, but of the punishments they gave me. I knew that those punishments weren't there to hurt me– my parents weren't hurting me for the sake of hurting me, nor was I being punished to expiate a crime. The punishment was educational: if my parents didn't think I'd walk away from it a better person, they wouldn't have done it.
In other words, parents punish their children for the same reason that they do everything else: to maximize their ultimate wellbeing. When my parents punished me, they did so out of love for me, not out of anger. I don't yet know when one can and can't say that God loves a person, but as I understand it, He doesn't love sinners, at least not in eternity. An earthly punishment from God might be corrective, but damnation– whether it entails God actively sending a sinner to Hell or simply allowing a sinner to bring Hell upon themselves– is, unlike the punishment dealt to parents by children, not an expression of love. Damnation is not for the ultimate benefit of the sinner. I know some Christians believe that the damned are ultimately purified and redeemed by their experience in Hell, but mainstream Christianity says that Hell is eternal suffering. You don't walk out of Hell a better person, because you don't walk out of Hell. Hell doesn't exist for the improvement of sinners– Hell is not comparable to a parental punishment.
Furthermore (sorry– I know I'm rambling), terrestrial punishments from God differ from punishments meted out by parents. A child being punished by their parents knows what it did to deserve the punishment, and understands that the magnitude of the punishment matches the magnitude of the transgression– you wouldn't punish a child for not helping with the dishes as severely as you'd punish them for getting into a fight at school. But Christians– and not just Christians– always have to speculate about the degree and nature of divine intervention in the unhappy moments of their lives. If I lose my job, is God punishing me? If so, for what? Have I committed a sin that equals unemployment in magnitude? Which of my sins (I think as I try and enumerate my sins) matches my suffering? And if I'm not being punished, why has God allowed me to suffer– is it a test? Is He simply letting things run their course? Should I even be asking about this?
My point is that the fear of God is different from the fear that one feels for one's parents.
I'm so sorry for how long-winded this post is. I feel that all of it helps get my point across, so I'm going to let it stand at its current length, but here's the kernel of it: I don't know how to fear and love God at the same time– I love Him the more I believe and fear Him the less I believe, but I know that if I ever come to believe fully, I need to to both. Help me out?