I emerged in the Christian tradition. My family lived in small town, rural Missouri, so as a child I attended Baptist services and marched with banners singing “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Then, when my family moved to suburban Chicago, I took confirmation classes as a mainline Methodist, leaving the hot tents of my Baptist childhood as a memory while I sat in air-conditioned Methodist classes. Then onto college where my poor education in theology ran into the maw of relentless rational investigation, repeated empirical testing, and refined mathematical verification. My faith had no chance against my intellect largely because I had learned faith from the outside in and I am an inside out person – I think to do. Thus, I thought myself out of faith.
The following thirty years passed with variations between hot skepticism and blazing atheism depending on what I’d been reading most recently. Plato gave me a soul and rational ethics without God. Then even walking out of the cave and into the bright light of truth became an illusion and faithlessness became my faith. I did what was right in my mind. Darwin, Nietzsche, Freud, and Marx. As an university professor this posed little problem and indeed the greater my doubt in God, the more comfortable my intellectual life and career.
Then in my fiftieth year, three born-again experiences, and now, nearing sixty, I am a happy, thoughtful, and fearful Christian.
Of course, you might think, this had to happen. My arrow of life was launched from the bow of belief in my family. Is it any wonder that as my arrow responds to the laws of gravity and it falls to earth, it falls into faith? But, consider that virtually every atheist starts in belief. Or so says most of the ones that confess. Read them. Consider their circumstances. Almost all cite chapter and verse of their emerging consciousness decorated with religious signs and symbols. Then their revelation, like mine, into skepticism. I’m an odd duck to have followed the same migration as so many doubters, but then turn to faith.
Of course, my faith today is nothing like my faith as either a child or a young adult. My faith then was largely thoughtless, the faith of observing, imitating, obtaining consequences and moving along. I did not think past a Catechism, a ritual, a memorized prayer filed away with other required memorizations like lines from the Gettysburg Address, a doggerel poem from Kipling, and my home address and phone number. My faith then was the faith of doing what others were doing when they did it. I was faithful about the performance, but it would be incorrect to conclude I had much faith.
My born-again experiences delivered me into faith, felt and known, not just performed. I realize now that I’d had several prior experiences that were from the Holy Spirit, but at the time had just seemed unusually unusual. And if you’ve had born-again experiences, you probably know what I mean. And if you haven’t, you think I’m confused about experience and how to describe it.
I am riding time’s arrow, but it is not gravity that pulls me.