For 23 years I’ve lived under one significant assumption. It has been the benchmark of my experience as a human being; it has colored every aspect of my existence. Nothing, no piece of information, no circumstance, no setting, passes through my lens without being scrutinized by the eye of faith – a very specific faith, one that holds true and literal all stories and teachings in the Bible, one that relies on a creator in three persons but who is one being, one that supposedly “rests” on promises made by a man, Jesus, and his followers two millennia ago.

This belief is so all-encompassing that it delineates who I am in reference to the rest of the people around me; in fact, the rest of the world. Essentially, I’m “in” – eternally secure, saved, sanctified, bought with the blood. Anyone who does not believe as I do is not “in.” This is how I was brought up to view the world. Two sides, two warring parties, one victor and one defeated rebel – and I am nestled happily with the flock inside the narrow gate.

Who would even begin to question this philosophy if it’s what you’ve known since you were able to register memory? As a member of the Christian faith, everything is for you, God himself cares for you and knows you personally, mysterious cosmic forces are orchestrating a beautiful destiny for you specifically. This faith has an answer for everything, from rainbows to rock strata to why snakes have no legs. Even seemingly inexplicable realities such as pain, devastation, and suffering are easily thwarted as pastors and preachers construe meaning for every heartache from principles taught in Scripture.

When you’re a Christian, it’s so easy to be right, and the best part is: you never have to second guess.

I’m so fed up with easy answers. Throughout the course of my short life, I continually find myself at breaking points where I realize how my narrow, insular worldview has made me numb and indifferent to the reality of what’s going on around me. Time after time I find myself broken and having to acknowledge my prejudices and vices, harmful attitudes and presuppositions that are the source of that dividing wall of hostility between me and those who don’t adopt my beliefs. And with every moment of epiphany I become further frustrated with the so-called “easy answers,” mainly because I find that they in no way live up to their namesake.

There is no easy answer. Every presupposition from my youth has been a very poor disguise to make palatable the bitterness that pervades my chaotic existence. Not having to question my basis for belief led me to dark, dark places and has ultimately left me dissatisfied and angry with, and mostly hurt by, a God who, if he exists, cannot possibly be what I’ve assumed him to be.

For some time now I’ve felt lost – sometimes drifting, sometimes vehemently opposed to everything I’ve built my life around, sometimes desperately in need of grace (from God or man, I don’t know which), and sometimes clinging with every last hope within me to the fragments of faith that remain. Why I’m here, why I am writing this, is because I have to uncover the missing pieces; I have to go behind the veil that obscures the meaning in this world. Life is not random or coincidental – I am sure of this. Too much evidence says otherwise. As long as I can reason, emote, and feel, I have to pursue meaning. The choices I make depend profoundly on what I believe about why I am here. I don’t know where I’m going on this journey, but here I am losing the presupposition and bias that has so colored my worldview. Faith is what is it is – a perspective-shaping belief that one cannot prove – but the kind of faith I’ve known up to this point is simply insufficient. It does not answer the questions I need answered.

This is my second guess at what life is all about.