The way I’ve felt lately can only be compared to the feelings I had when I first questioned the existence of Santa Claus.
I suspected Santa didn’t really sneak into my house on Christmas Eve with a bag full of new toys meant just for me. I knew the big bear in the red suit couldn’t possibly accomplish in one night what I was told, yet I was fearful to question his existence even internally on the chance my non-belief would leave me with an empty space under the tree the next morning.
I struggled to justify Santa’s existence while accepting the truth about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, both of which always sounded ridiculous to me.
Today I’m facing a similar conflict but this time it’s with religion.
Religion is in the headlines daily these days thanks to the prattling on of presidential candidates hoping to woo conservative voters. The ongoing debate over contraception, the definition of life and whether or not what two people do in private is the concern of the government concerns me.
I’m sure my mother still has the boxes of ribbons I won for memorizing Bible verses for Sunday School class each week. I was even a part of Christian groups in high school and college. Even after I came out I held close to my faith.
But something has changed.
I find it more difficult to believe the stories I was told as a child. I no longer have that blind faith preventing me from challenging the story about a naked, heterosexual couple in a garden who communicated with a snake. And if God is all powerful, why did it take him six days to create everything when he obviously could have done it with a quick snap of his massive fingers?
Why are there so many beliefs out there if the true religion I was taught is the only one worth following? Why are there tragedies? It’s not like the all-knowing and omnipotent can’t see a problem coming millennia in advance.
As I’ve wrestled with these and other holes in the logic of my religious upbringing, I’m repeatedly told by self-appointed religious candidates for president that God the same one introduced to me as a child is opposed to me enjoying true love with another man, health care for women and any and all forms of contraception.
Simply put, the Republicans on the right constantly spouting religious rhetoric have damaged my spiritual beliefs rather than strengthen them.
To listen to the likes of Rick Santorum, God is more high-maintenance than I ever expected, and full of hate and contradictions that present Him as a conflicted leader, rather than as a path to glory. Each time God is wielded as a weapon, another chunk is taken out of my religious armor.
Faith, as I’ve been told, does not require proof of the unseen only strong beliefs and convictions. But when supposed leaders present their beliefs as facts that contradict with common sense, keeping a faithful front continues to be more difficult.
With every hateful high and mighty statement flung to the press, these candidates are only reaching a small contingent while spiritually wounding those of us who have doubts about some of the finer points.
To many, religion is comforting, especially in times of tragedy and pain. I pray when a loved one is sick or injured or when guidance is needed in my personal or professional life. I have even asked for prayers for my sick or injured pets.
I can only hope that if God is involved in this election that he’ll protect us from those who misrepresent the teachings they claim to hold so dear.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be as faithful as I was in my youth or if I can align my own common sense with the spiritual teachings of my home church.
But I do know I can’t let go of my faith, at least not yet just in case.
