And so. I come OUT on my blog as being Agnostic. I'm Agnostic.

I believe there's some sort of God, but I'm not willing to define it. That's Agnostic. That's what I am. And that's okay.

That's a pretty gigantic cliff to jump across. It leaves everything hanging. Just out there.

Agnostic.

Scary.






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“I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.” -Mark Twain

I tried reading more of the things I used to write at the beginning of this blog. Ugh. Some of that stuff is difficult to get through at this point, and I guess that's because my worldview has changed. Although - I don't think I ever fully bought into a theistic worldview because even as a very young child I had a problem with the idea of hell. That last thought almost made me laugh out loud as I typed it. I mean, who wouldn't have a problem with the idea of hell? The avoidance of it seems to be what the entire Christian faith is based upon. Pretty much.

"Do you know where you're going when you die?" is the first question those door-to-door fundamentalist missionaries hit you with if you actually open the door to them. Well, they typically shake your hand, introduce themselves, and then ask you. I guess I opened the door for too many of them over the years, but I always felt bad for them, and I've always enjoyed talking about religion -even as a child. My Granny used to tell me that I was one of the only grandkids who liked to sit and talk about Jesus with her. I'm not sure if that's true or not because she also told me that she saw a demon spirit wisping around up by the ceiling in the front room of her house. She described it as a black misty sort of thing - I imagine it now as something like the smoke monster in the show Lost-only smaller. She rebuked it in the name of Jesus and it flew away, so I was supposed to feel comforted by the power in the name of Jesus. It takes a good deal of faith to be comforted by that when you're just a kid. I'm sure I wasn't the only grandkid who talked with Granny about religious things, but I may have been one of the only ones who actually believed every word she said as if it was coming straight from God. It wasn't until she died that I began to ponder the idea that no human being can ever really speak for God. They can only give their best understanding of things based on all they've learned and experienced up to the point at which they're speaking or writing or communicating in whatever way they're communicating.

I don't know if we live on after this life or not, but I do know that people like my Granny can live on through me right now. She's resurrected every time I help someone by cooking, sewing, or crafting something for them. Every time I remember to encourage someone and lift their spirits in some way, or at least try, that's a legacy learned from my Granny. The same one who believed that evil spirits would dance around her ceiling (and potentially the ceilings of all her loved ones) if she didn't plead the blood of Jesus over them on a regular basis. Granny died during the time I was married to Todd, so the realization that no one person is capable of really speaking for God came at a good time.

My other Grannie (from my dad's side of the family) never went to church when I was a kid. She lived in what my religious Granny called a backslidden condition. I used to imagine lots of evil spirits dancing around on that Grannie's ceiling with no one there to rebuke them. I shared that with my religious Granny once and she assured me that those demons were included in the ones she rebuked every day. Was I ever grateful for that! Despite her "backslidden" condition, my non-religious Grannie left an incredible legacy to me as well. She's resurrected in me by the very nature of the eclectic family I've fashioned for myself. I can't remember a time when her kids fought or argued with her or between each other to the point that they wouldn't come together for family gatherings. She taught love and grace to her children and grandchildren by simply listening to them and loving them no matter what they were going through. She didn't badger them about getting back in church or smoking and drinking or participating in other activities considered outrageously sinful by church standards. She didn't act as if church attendance was some sort of litmus test for being truly valuable in life. Non-religious Grannie did start attending church regularly before she died, but I can clearly see now that going to church every Sunday didn't make her a better person than she already was. It did for her what church and religion are supposed to do for people. Church provided her with a support system and religion reminded her that there's a higher purpose to our lives.

So, my answer to the question, "Do you know where you're going when you die?" at this point is, "No, and I'm okay with that." I say at this point because should I gain some experience and/or knowledge to change that answer, I'll change my mind about it. I'm not exactly sure how I'd define my current worldview. It seems like I feel more strongly about what it's NOT than what it actually IS. I just know that it's not based on some heaven/hell thing where we all get sorted out like sheep and goats. That's a nice metaphor when you're trying to get people to behave, but it doesn't really do God justice when it comes to understanding the innate value of creation and our purpose in living a good life in the first place. It's certainly a poor motivator for getting people to be more human to one another.



Thanks for reading. Whoever you are.

peace&love and grace,

pam




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