"The Three Men I Admire Most--The Father, Son, And Holy Ghost"

I often wonder how people perceive my spirituality, if they do at all. Do I come across as a religious or spiritual person? Or maybe as agnostic or atheist, even?

It's a question that bothers me from time to time, and one that I've been thinking about today. Years ago, I had someone tell me that they were surprised to find out I was Christian, because I didn't act like it. This was coming from someone who is a pagan, so I don't know if that comment was a complement or not, but it still bothered me. Do I actually come across as atheist? I am most definitely not, though I may be riddled and plagued with doubt and concerns.

I like to think that I'm a very spiritual person. Perhaps not as enamoured of organized religion as I once was, but I blame education for that fact. In fact, I think it's safe to say that the way I think about religion, spirituality, and God are all shaped by the fact that I've had what you might call an excess of education in certain areas. I have been trained to think critically about things, to question and pick things apart until I understand what people think and why they think them. In the process, some of what people believe inevitably comes across as superstition or ludicrous, outdated modes of thinking that simply cannot work in today's world. But I still think that, at the core of my being, I am a spiritual person. I believe in God, though I know not the nature of that Being. I try to be reverent, though I know I'm often not.

But I still wonder how I'm perceived. I'll admit, oftentimes I get wrapped up in concerns that are entirely of this world. Sometimes I'm too materialistic, sometimes I'm too worried about stuff and whether or not I have things. I let stuff that's ultimately meaningless and empty dictate my life sometimes, and I let stupidity and prejudice enter my mind and control my actions. I sin, I don't try to tell others about any sort of message, and I'm sometimes an exceptionally mean person.

On the other hand, I also still like to think that I lead a good, Christian life, or at least try to. I've taken the message--the Golden Rule ("do unto others," not "he who has the gold makes the rules"), the Good Samaritan, loving my neighbor--and I've engrained them into my very being, made them a part of me. Anything that is within my power to help someone, I try to do. I try to lead a good life, to be the person I know I'm supposed to be. If I sometimes fail--which I know I do, because I'm a fallible, frail person--I try to make amends, I try to move beyond it and do better the next time. I like to think that, deep in my heart, I've accepted Christ, and that I'm who He'd want me to be. But am I?

Ultimately, what other people think about me is unimportant. Yet it still bothers me that people might perceive me as something I'm not. But maybe all this concern is unimportant. Maybe I've made my point many times. I mean, look at the comics I do--Crooked Halo, which deals with the issues of trusting God, dealing with doubt, and overcoming temptation (or Tim Tation, as the case may be); and Troubled Times, which deals with much the same issues in a more serious and action-packed sort of way. The former is somewhat irreverent, the latter is less so, but they keep going back to a single fact--I start from the assumption that there is a God, that He or She or It is a Loving Being who created everything, and that life has a purpose. Trials have a purpose. Good things happen for a reason, and so do bad. Perhaps the reason a bad thing happens is to teach us a lesson, or to show us how good we had it. Maybe good things happen as a reward, or as a way of saying, "hey, chin up, you can make it." I think God speaks to me, to something deep inside of me that I can't articulate in thoughts or words, but I can almost feel a tangible presence sometimes.

A couple of years ago, when I was in Yellowstone, I was sitting outside one evening watching the sun set. This was just after a rather emotionally draining year at Ozarks, one which left me on the verge of mental and physical breakdown. Had school lasted even another week, I don't think I'd have made it. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating well, I was sitting awake at night just thinking about things that only depressed me. But then Clif and I went to Yellowstone. The separation from my friends hurt; hurt probably more than anything I've ever experienced in my life. But it also separated me from the anxieties I'd faced at school and at home. It forced me to come face to face with who I was and where I was in my life.

So anyway, I was sitting there watching the sunset. And it was beautiful. I really can't do it justice, because I'm decent with words, but not that good. It was just something about the mountains, and the stars coming out one by one, and the air slowly cooling and giving up the heat of the day...I just started to smile, and to feel all the tension and fear and anxiety drain out of me. For a few minutes, I had no worries, no stress, nothing but me and the sunset. And I was at peace; total, complete peace. And I think in that moment, I truly understood who I was, and I felt God's presence. Maybe that sounds a little hokey, but then again, I don't really care what you think about it. It was my moment, my connection to the Divine, and I'll never forget it.

Since then, anxieties have returned, doubt has crept back in as it always does, and my life is full of stress and uncertainties. But I can handle them now. I can deal with the stress and doubt, I can deal with being hundreds of miles away from the majority of the people I care about more than life itself. I will survive, because I know that there is a God out there watching over me. And that is very comforting.

~chuck

Song of the Moment: Newsboys, "Shine"