Friday 12 September 2014

The day I set off

In my very first post, I mentioned being a Christian. So today, I thought I'd share with you how that journey started...

I was raised vaguely Catholic. I say vaguely because it was more of a tradition than anything else. Babies were born and Christened, we'd go to mass at Christmas, weddings and funerals; children would receive their First Communion and later be confirmed - this would be the occasion for a big family party, a large meal, and plenty of presents. It was just what people did where I grew up - I was no different and never questioned it.

I always believed in the existence of God - someone up there looking down on us - but it wasn't particularly clear to me who or what God was. Catechism talked a lot about the life of Bible characters and saints, but it didn't mean much more to me than school: it was just stuff you were supposed to know about, that's all.

When I was 18, I went to London for a year to study English. While I was there, I attended an Anglican church that some friends had recommended. I guess what struck me most about those people is how seriously they took their faith. This was rather new to me and intrigued me: it must have been something important. They ran something similar to the Alpha Course and I decided to take part.

The course addressed issues such the reliability of the New Testament, the identity of Jesus as God's Son incarnate, sin, and God’s plan of salvation through Jesus. This is when I really understood the phrase “Jesus died for our sins”- a phrase I had heard in the Catholic church before. I had never realised what sin was - rejection of God, and any action that demonstrates that rejection; how we fall short of what we were meant to be. I had never realised either that what Jesus did was take upon himself the guilt and consequence of human sin when He died on the cross. He received what we deserve, so we could be forgiven and receive God's love once more - the love we have a natural tendency to reject.

I realised then that if a Christian was simply someone who trusted in Jesus and in what He had done for us, then I wasn’t one.

At about the same time, I met a Muslim. We discussed God and religion, and I read some booklets about Islam. As a result, some of my beliefs were challenged. Indeed, I had always thought that all religions all led to God. However, in Islam you had to obey lots of rules and do good deeds, and then maybe, if you were found good enough, God would accept you. On the other hand, I was being told in Church that as a sinner, there was nothing I could do to make myself acceptable to a perfect, absolutely good God, and that all I could do was accept what Jesus had done for me and commit my life to Him. That wasn’t the same thing at all – one belief system told me I had to work hard to deserve God’s acceptance, and the other told me there was nothing I could do and nothing I needed to do, because God had already done it all for me… all I had to do was receive His gift.

I was extremely confused. I could see both beliefs couldn’t be true at the same time, because in all logic they were self-excluding. But I had no idea which one was right. Both seemed to make sense. I knew I had to choose one or the other, and I did want to please God and do what He required, but I simply didn’t know which way was the right one.

I was more attracted to Islam because it fitted my views about God and religion: God wanted us to obey a certain set of rules and be good, and when we'd die He would weigh our good and bad deeds on a pair of scales and see which way it tipped. But I could not dismiss Christianity, because it could make sense too.

One day as I was walking through Regent’s Park pondering all these things, a woman I came up to me and asked me “Do you know if you’re going to heaven when you die?” She gave me a little booklet explaining the same things I had been told in church about Jesus and salvation. That woman didn’t know me and had no way of knowing I was precisely wondering about Christianity at the time she asked me that question. I do believe it was a sign from God. But even then I couldn’t make up my mind, because I still felt attracted to Islam. I spent days thinking about it, but I couldn’t decide. Then one day I decided that the only person who could make it clear was God Himself. So I started praying, asking Him to reveal Himself to me and to show me which way was the right way, Christianity or Islam. One night as I was praying…it suddenly became clear. It struck me that Christianity didn’t only make sense, but that it was true. It felt as if I had been in a dark room and suddenly someone had turned on the light. I could trust Jesus for my forgiveness and salvation.

And this is how my Christian journey started. It has given my life a sense of purpose and value, knowing that I was loved by God. It hasn't made me perfect, but is has given me the drive to constantly improve out of love for him, and the desire to know him better.

My journey is not over, and I am currently re-assessing a lot of the peripheral beliefs I have been taught for years. I will definitely share more about it at some point.

Wednesday 10 September 2014

Life is easier in stories.

I don't know about you, but as a person with Asperger's syndrome, I think life would be much easier if I could work out people's intentions - if little subtitles could appear and tell me what a person really wants or means. So many times I have misread what people meant, or been deceived because I took things at face value.

Maybe this is why I love stories so much.

When you read a book, a lot of the time characters' intentions are made explicit. You get insights into their thoughts and motives. Working out why they act the way they do is therefore easy, and you can understand them better and predict what is likely to happen. When you watch a film and a bad guy comes on, there is often some clue: the music, the way they look or their mannerisms.

Not so in real life. I have absolutely no idea what people truly mean, truly want. I can only go with what they tell me. I take them at face value.

When someone speaks nicely to me, I just assume they're nice. If they bitch about me behind my back or stab me in the back, I have absolutely no idea. And if someone is a bit harsh or abrupt or doesn't smile, I just think they're not friendly or they don't like me; yet sometimes they end up being the ones sticking up for me.

When someone does me a favour or does something thoughtful, I never think they might have ulterior motives: I just think they're being genuinely kind. And this may very well be the case... or not.

It would be much easier if life was like stories; if there were obvious clues about people's real intentions.