While I regret to admit my own
weakness, I am deeply indebted to my friends for teaching me a valuable lesson.
It’s obvious now that I fell into a common ‘know-it-all’ trap upon first
discussing these things. Although no philosopher or scientist has ever been
able to do it before, of course I, Sarah, the sultan of scripture, the colossus
of canon, the great bible-bino, felt that somehow, with a flick of the wrist on
my typing keys, could single-handedly turn the atheists in the world to
God-loving church-goers. Well, I didn’t really
think that—at least, not consciously, but sometimes when my intentions are
good, I get caught up in the moment—in one argument after another—in proving that I’m always right. Then, before I
know it, my entire point in the first place is long gone and I don’t even
remember what is was, let alone where it went. Humility is really the key to any
discussion or human interaction, especially of this type.
My friend pointed this out to me.
He wrote the following: “Your faith is subjective. That’s the nature of faith!
It’s ineffable. No matter how powerful your convictions and beliefs, you can't
truly convince someone to believe in what you believe without them coming to it
themselves. You can talk about what your faith does for you, and how you came
to it, but I believe that once you start trying to pitch battle on the warfront
of logic and reasoning, you've lost.”
And he is absolutely right. I’m
really grateful that he stepped in because if he hadn’t, I’d probably be really
upset right now for no reason—realizing I messed up somewhere, but not knowing
where.
So
where did I go wrong exactly? I served a mission and taught this stuff to
people every day. I already knew that contention and argument just leaves me
and my companion literally crying out on a street corner in the rain about how
mean those people were and I how powerless I felt to stop them. (Oh, it was a
terrible story—my beautiful, caring, awe-inspiring mission companion was
Dominican black and right in front of her, a pastor from another church and his
follower had the audacity to say that my church thinks black people are not as
virtuous as white people. They were venomous).
But looking back, I think it is
experiences like that that actually stem this kind of contentious behavior in me now. I'm tired of getting hurt. I'm tired of being vulnerable. I realize now that so many times I have been
put on the defensive about my religion. Ignorance, anger and ill-will on the
part of the critic combine to make a perfect storm of not just the general ‘how
can anybody believe in God?’ kind of stuff that many Christians receive, but the
‘Mormons are (insert degrading, unfounded insult-followed-by-expletive)
here.’ Perhaps now that I’m 27 years
old and my peers’ pre-frontal cortices are more fully developed, I shouldn’t
feel like I have to worry about that kind of stuff. But it seems like every
question is laced and loaded with an attitude of ‘don’t bother trying to
explain, because there’s no way you are possibly right about this.’
When even some of your dearest
friends reenact scenes of Joseph Smith as a drunkard (despite there being no historic
evidence to back that up), take quotes from religious leaders SIGNIFICANTLY out
of context, and try to TELL you what you believe, is it no wonder I get
defensive. Even today in the modern era, people think it’s okay to not just
make fun of the seemingly odd cultural norms of white Mormons in Utah, (and
yes, we are sometimes hilarious and peculiar) but to openly mock, ridicule and
lie about the most sacred aspects of my belief system. I’m getting upset right now just writing this.
But I need to let this go. I need
to forgive. Holding onto these wounds skews my perception of today’s sincere
inquirer, and the defense braces me for further hurt and ultimate spiritual
defeat. I suppose since I’m probably not the only one who has had these
experiences, I plead with you to do the same—let it go. That isn’t because we
Christians are supposed to self-righteously and piously not think ill of the
slime beneath us (please know I’m being facetious). That isn’t because our
hurts aren’t valid. And although it’s an important point, neither would I say
that it’s just because that is what God commanded us to do. But because a)since
we claim to know that God heals us from these difficult wounds, why wouldn’t we take advantage of that
miraculous power and b) if we don’t, we won’t be capable of discussing these
things with both the composure and conviction that we need to make any
semblance of sense or impact we desire. (This is due in part to the fact that
we’re not practicing what we preach, and mainly because it is only the power of
the Holy Ghost that can testify of the things we say to the hearts of the
people.)
Even in midst of my struggle to
overcome past wounds inflicted, this experience has given me a lot of hope. The
people with whom I have been discussing things now are not like those people of
my past. I have been impressed with both the sincerity of their questions and
their respect and attitude towards me. I have opened myself up a little bit
more, telling them of both my desires to answer their questions and my insecurities
about doing so, and I have been truly humbled at their understanding. I used to
think, not with the people themselves, but on the topic of religion
specifically, that it was me against the world—no one could possibly understand
and I had to keep my beliefs guarded. I also thought that people put up walls
when they asked me questions about my religion, but now I realize it is I who
has never taken the walls of the past down. This is, of course, because I
forgot the most important part about religion—that life and love and faith are
all risks. I need to hold fast to something that I believe, even though it is
something I cannot see. This seems irrational to some, and probably it is, but
it is the only way I can demonstrate that I really do have a conviction for
something. If I feel, which I do, that God has asked me to be open with people
about the things I believe (something that is very difficult for me) then I
need to trust that He will help me and provide a way that I can do that. I believe
that this experience (concluding with a PUBLIC APOLOGY to anyone with whom I’ve
had an un-open or holier than thou attitude, an olive branch to those who have
hurt me, and a sincere thank you to those people whom now I call even greater
friends) has been a part of that way.
