THIS weekend, let's talk about religion. Contrary to popular belief, it is not a sin to question one’s religion. At least not in mine. We are even encouraged to do so, so that we will grow in knowledge and wisdom about our faith. In fact I did seriously question my own religion at one point. Let me share it with you.
I remembered a time in my theology year where I had a professor who shook my faith. He said that the bible is a literary work written by the so-called “inspired people” most of whom did not even see Jesus in the flesh. In short, the authenticity of the historical accounts is not conclusive.
That took me by surprise. It bothered me so much that I began to question the Lordship of Jesus. What if the miracle accounts of Jesus were but pure exaggerations? What if he really didn’t resurrect? What if he is just like us with no special power other than a witty tongue? Given that he has risen from the dead, how come he has never showed up again? If he is really Lord and he really wants to save us, then why is he not showing himself for the last 2000 years?
Other than the bible, what proof does the church have of his divinity? What if the bible is wrong? The fact that it even has grammatical errors and inconsistencies of historical accounts, e.g. the two creation stories of the Genesis, then it must not be immune from error in form and essence. I mean if the very first two chapters of it are already in conflict with each other then why will I let such a book control me for the rest of my life?
As I pondered more on it, the more I got convinced that Jesus was no different than I am. I still believed in God, that was not the issue. My very existence was the most concrete evidence that there is a creator, but Jesus was a totally different case.
For a year I put on hold my faith in the second person of the trinity. The more I doubted, the more I wanted to know who was that man called Jesus.
Then I began to search more on the historical Jesus; his activities, his enemies, his friends, his families, his community, his decisions, his followers, etc., and as I read more the new testament I began to see a different Christ, at least not the Christ that I thought he was. This time I was seeing a person, a man who loves to socialize, a man who prays and cries and even panics, but most importantly a man who truly loves his friends even if they were the most unlovable of all and even if they betrayed him. He values sincerity over popularity. He values service over fame and he loves his mother and father. He shares what he has, and teaches what he believes in. He is a man who walks the talk. He was even killed for it.
In the whole history of the world (and I am speaking as a history professor at one point), I am yet to know of a man who has loved as much as Jesus did, the kind that doesn’t count the cost, the kind that doesn’t consider the worthiness of the one being loved, the kind that doesn’t stop loving even when he was betrayed and disowned by his very best friends. Such love could have only come from a divine. Such could only come from a pure soul. Then it just dawned on me that Jesus’ divinity is not really revealed in his miracles and magics; it sprang out of his humanity. He is divine not because he could stop the wind from blowing nor because he could raise the dead but because he can and did love the most unworthy one. He must be the son of the Father, the image of the invisible God.
So if I were to waste my life, I might as well waste it following the footsteps of the one who has lived it to the full. And if when I die, a contrary truth would meet me, then I shall still not regret believing in him, for I could not think of any better way to live a life than that which he showed in his very own life. A life of love.*