As a staunch atheist, I’ve always had a problem with faith. Faith is the word religious folk trot out when they hit the chasm between their beliefs and logic. No religious person can truly reconcile this conundrum. They can only stop at the edge, choose to maintain their position despite all evidence to the contrary and declare “Faith.” As my friend’s ex-minister father said, “Kids are taught to believe in god young so they don’t question it. Because its not logical or rational, and it has many contradictions and creates many problems, the only way it makes sense is if its pre-supposed and ‘baked in’ from youth.” We’re all indoctrinated with certain stories that make less and less sense the more we learn about the world. What inspires me are the curious folks who realize that there may be a larger truth than the one they were raised in.
I proudly say that I am “faith-less.” My beliefs, I like to think, are informed by observation, by science, by math, by an inner moral compass.
And yet, I do realize there is faith in my life. In getting the ovaries to declare myself a Writer, I had to get to a point where I believed what I had to say was important to share. This took an enormous leap of faith on my part. I did have the benefit of logic being on my side at least a little. I got feedback from third parties who told me my work was good or great and I’ve gotten paid to write. These are major signposts, no doubt. But there still was that leap I needed to make, to believe, even in the face of contradictory evidence, that I could do this, for real. And like religious folk, someday I’ll have proof. That proof may be in the form of many published and well-loved books. Or it may be that I’m 60 and I’m doing something completely different. Time will tell. Luckily I don’t have to die before I’ll see my faith redeemed.