This I Believe

I believe in God.

This isn’t an unusual belief, I suppose. However, it is not too often talked about todayaespecially in the circles of 20-something’s that I run with. I come from the ME generationaGen Xamillions of children growing up under their semi-protective, consistently over-achieving Baby Boomer parents. Most people my age grew up in the middle classawhite suburbia. We went to schools that focused less on encouraging the beliefs of our parents, and more on drawing our own set of beliefs from our lives. We were taught to scrutinize the world around us, and the people in it. We were told to look deeper·to not settle for face value. And God became less and less a word that was associated with school, or friends, or our lives.

My father fought against that from the beginning. He came from a strict Catholic family, and he was determined to have me involved in churchainvolved in God. Every Sunday we would wake up at 6:30AM (on the weekend!) and have a quick breakfast together before getting dressed to the nines and loaded into the car for Sunday mass. We were always at the 8AM massamy father thought the later masses were for the lazier believers. We would sit in a pew very close to the frontaside by sideaand listen to the 45 minute services on hope, faith, hell, heaven, sin, and redemption. Afterwards, I would shuffle off to the religion class (catechism) and Dad would go home to start our big Sunday after-church breakfast.

Catechism was a mixture of children like meagrowing up in the idealistic schools that I was, but with parents firmly rooted in their religious pasts. We would read the bible, talk about the scriptures, paint and color religious pictures, and spend time away from parents, school, and our other worlds which were more devoid of God than that one. Those classes were warm placesahappy and youngakids being kids, learning to love something bigger and better than ourselves. At the end of each class, we would pray with each other, say good bye until Monday, and head outside to meet our waiting parents.

As I’ve grown older, more cynical, and less devout in my religion, I’ve come to realize that those times spent so close to God are among the best of my life. Now, I’m no bible-thumper or evangelistaI don’t preach to friends or co-workers about changing their evil ways. I make my share of mistakesapartake in my share of sinful delights. I live life in much the same way as everyone else around me. And yet, I still believe so much in what I learned there in church as a child. I reflect back so often on those masses, scriptures and catechism classes that were a huge part of my childhood, and I realize that they are a huge part of my adulthood too.

Believing in Godain the power of something greaterahas given me faith in those people and situations around me. I have an understanding that life is in no way predictableathat the only certainty is change. But I have faith that there is someone with me through itaa voice guiding me to do the right thingaa feeling pushing me in the better directionaand belief that there is goodness in everyone. I face my adulthood and my future with less fear and less fury than so many people around me. I believe that there is a path and a place for us all. And I thank God for giving me that security and that confidenceain Himaand in my own future.