Questioning Faith

Every "believer" has their doubts. I can't imagine my own faith existing without some level of doubt - a yin of doubt for the yang of belief. My first faith crisis was the hardest. At school I was confronted with rumors, questions and debates about the nature of belief. I was troubled but the fact remained that I still wanted to believe.

In the winter of 1984, my family spent Christmas Eve in my grandparent’s house. I spent the night in their spare bedroom, surrounded by my grandmother's sewing accessories and my grandfather's CB radio equipment. My parents had reasonable Christmas morning expectations. My sister and I could go through our stockings first thing in the morning but we were under strict orders to not open anything else until they were awake.

Of course I scampered out of bed before sunrise to check out the coveted loot. Once back into the guest room I quickly poured out the stocking’s treasures onto the bed. There was the requisite candy and other small items, but two toys stood above the rest: two small Transformers action figures (Brawn & WindCharger for those scoring at home).

Gotta love the internet - punch this into Google images and bang - I got a visual.

Suddenly, it all came crashing down.

The two packages were cut with scissors, so they could fit into the stocking. Each of the packages had two pathetic, half-heartily “Toys R Us” tags torn off. I sat on the bed staring at the packages. Although I had already begun to deconstruct the paradox of “Santa’s Workshop” (the elves made Masters of the Universe figures?) - staring at the packages confirmed my doubts - Santa was a lie. I started to create excuses to believe but nothing stuck.

In a few hours my parents would wake up and ask what Santa brought. I played the game that morning, I was too embarrassed by the whole situation to say anything. Quietly, my faith in Santa had died but I managed to fake it for a few more years.

I’m still not that much different than my seven-year old self. I find the packaging for God lacking but I still desire, yes, even yearn to believe. I want to live in a world that has meaning. Not the existential kind of meaning that we create to get by. I want meaning that reveals ultimate truth; the transcendent kind of meaning.

I still want to believe.