Coming to Terms With a Higher Power
I was raised by an atheist and a weekend ER nurse, so Sunday morning church service was not a regular part of my upbringing. However, at different times in my life I have sought spirituality, religion, or connection with something or someone outside of the physical realm. Nineteenth century psychologist and philosopher William James declared that human nature contains an innate “will to believe” in some higher power. That will is certainly present in me, and at various intervals in my life I have also seen the appeal of the certainty that comes with religious convictions, the black and white checklist of what constitutes Good and Bad, or the promise (or threat) of the afterlife.
When I was younger, “church people” just seemed so confident. They had rules and procedures, they had supporting documentation, they had assurances, and most of all, these things seemed to bring them peace. In my exploration, I found that they also had guilt, fear, and judgment in spades. I was never sure if that trade-off was worth my Sunday mornings.
My first foray into religion was a high school phase when I liked a boy so I regularly attended a Baptist youth group. I learned this particular youth group was mainly popular because there was a good spot to smoke pot out back, a stairwell for making out, and a great excuse to give your parents. I didn’t engage in those activities (ie, the boy didn’t like me back and the ER nurse mother had warned me off drugs), so it was ultimately not what I was seeking. This was probably where my disillusionment of religion first began. Sure, there were good messages, good people, and the occasional pancake breakfast, but it wasn’t all as holy as I had thought from the outside looking in.
Other traditional suburban religious experiments included Catholic Mass (confusing and not nearly as free-spirited as I’d like), a Mega Church (great fun, but I couldn’t see the religion through the party atmosphere and thumping bass lines), a Black church (contagiously exciting, but I’d like to be home in time for dinner) and more. I took a World Religions course in college and was drawn to some of the various belief systems, but in practice I admit I did not stray far from the Christian path, as that’s the predominate culture in which I grew up. I quite enjoyed most of my experiences of religion and could see the draw on a social level, but the actual God, Jesus, and the Bible parts didn’t quite hit home. This is just me, people! For those of you with strong religious convictions, I respect and admire you. I am not criticizing or dismissing any religious beliefs or practices, nor do I wish to have them pushed upon me; from my own perspective, this only serves to create a chasm between myself and a spiritual experience.
I once found myself nodding along with the lead-in to a sermon only to then hear “Gotcha! That’s awful and those people are going to Hell!” I never could get on board with the idea that there’s only one right way to think, act, or just be in the world. My bookshelves hold Deepak Chopra and the Dalai Lama, The Bible, The Tao of Pooh and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, books on Buddhism and a great parenting book based in Judaism. There are lovely passages in each. Who are we to determine that we are in the righteous group, and the rest of the world is doomed? If we’re all sitting in our blessed corners thinking that same thing, some of us have to be wrong.
When I was introduced to the concept of “a power greater than myself,” and told that perhaps I could have a God/Higher Power/Spirit/Belief/Concept of my own understanding, I cocked my head and listened up. This is Step Two in a Twelve Step program, and finding it confusing, I had already skipped ahead to Step Three (read about that fumbling attempt here). There’s still a part of me envious of those who have absolute convictions and an unfaltering knowledge of their God, but my mind just isn’t wired that way. This idea that God is uncertain and unknowable opened the door for me to explore faith in a way that no church ever had. And, I began to realize just because I imagined all of the churchgoers had this absolute knowledge, many of them actually were shrugging and wondering just as much as me.
James also wrote that “objective evidence and certitude are doubtless very fine ideals to play with, but where on this moonlit and dream-visited planet are they found?” Now, my Type A personality would like to be able to describe IT in three words or less, draw a picture of IT, and wrap IT all up in a box with a nice bow on top. I feel like in the unlikely event someone asks me to point out my God in a lineup, I need to have a quick answer on hand. I recently shared this with a woman whom I feel oozes wisdom and spirituality, and she laughed at me. She told me it’s impossible to describe the ethereal, and also pointless to try. In this moonlit and dream-visited matter, I’ve got nothing to prove, no grade will be handed out, there’s not a sideline judge taking deductions if I stutter, use the wrong language or read one too many books.
She told me to stop searching, and start experiencing.
Then she compared God to an orgasm.
A beautiful, fulfilling thing to be experienced, sometimes more strongly than others, a little different each moment, complex, uncertain, awe-inspiring, warm, nuanced, loving, sometimes scary, sometimes all-consuming, sometimes gentle, sometimes overpowering. She told me there is no comparing one person’s experience of God (or an orgasm) to another’s; in fact, there is no standard experience even within myself. There are a vast array of spiritual experiences to be had. The biggest difference, it seems, is that God is always present, whereas, disappointingly, orgasms come and go. Pun intended.
I finally understood what this “God of my understanding” meant to ME. The word God suits me fine, it’s a nice concise group of letters that I don’t feel the need to replace with some perfect-for-me terminology (though I’ve tossed many ideas around on my quest). I completely respect those that give their Higher Power a different name, this one just works for me and does not require a lengthy explanation.
I was already able to articulate that I personally see God in love and acceptance, in no-strings-attached kindness. I feel God when I am in nature (often in my oddly specific way of looking at the sky through the trees). I hear God through other people, in the words that touch my heart, in the way certain sentences uttered from another person just speak to me, even if entirely taken out of context, or in written words. It’s like the volume gets turned up on exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it. I know God through my heart, my gut, my intuition, my conscience, whatever you want to call that voice of love deep within.
She told me that was enough. Again, to stop searching. Stop defining, naming, categorizing, comparing, analyzing. To stop judging myself, judging others, or judging others judging each other. That the not knowing was okay, perhaps even desirable. To let go of my need to define or conform or be right and to open my eyes, ears, and heart to what I already knew was there.
