Why Do I Do This?

     There has been for some time a popular atheist movement in the world that says "There are no good God believers; they are only good because there is a reward." While living in a predominantly Christian town in a very Christian part of South eastern Idaho and born to a very religious family, I never heard of this campaign or the truly great question that it brings up. I did, however, have a good friend who had heard it and internalized its message, and gave me the opportunity to think about it.
     He was an atheist, and was vocal about it too. Because most of our school was Christian, often times I can imagine he would feel the need to "rise above this ignorant belief" and continue gaining what he understood was common sense and scientific knowledge. He had not grown up with any religion, and the few times he was introduced to it he felt odd and rather uncomfortable. So he grew to not believe in God, and chose to instead trust his confidence with the things that he could see.
     He was an incredibly caring person who was funny and kind. We got along well, and often had meaningful discussions on life while messing around. He helped me understand that not all good people believe in a God or are "saints," and that good people do not all dress or look the same. I am proud to say that he helped me learn more about this weird, though wonderful world of ours.
     Of course, God has always played a huge part of my life, and had helped me overcome many obstacles and struggles, so naturally I was eager to share this with my friend. Quickly, however, I discovered his disdain for such "mysticism" and "blind faith in the unknown." I learned to not be offended by his skepticism, but it also deterred me from pursuing it much further.
     It was a couple years later, when I was in the eighth grade that I decided to confront him about his distaste for Christianity. Boldly I remember asking him "Why? Why do you have any problem with us? We try to do good, we help the weak and feed the poor! Why is this an issue with you?"
     Coolly he looked into my eyes and asked me why we do that. "Well because it is the right thing, and because God has told us to!" Emotions were starting to rise as generations of familial religious zeal stirred from their depths in me. Calmly, he then asked "And why do you do what this God tells you to do?" At the time, I felt like it was a stupid question, but that one has stayed with me for quite a while. I quickly answered "Because it is how we can be happy forever. No one else can guarantee that."
     That was when the kicker came. My friend, almost smugly said "You don't care about the poor as much as you care about the reward. I want to be good because I want to be good, not because some God is giving me an incentive."
     It left me speechless. My eighth grade understanding of theology and religion could not handle such a provoking and deep aspect. I remember telling him that it was a great point and that I will investigate in order to find out more.
     I had no idea how long I would think about that, and analyze myself and why I would follow what I knew God was telling me. It has caused me to really deeply think about my relationship with God, who I thought He was and why I listened to Him. It also caused me to think if I am a good person. Rather quickly, I came to the conclusion that I was not. I was in it for the reward, for what I would be given, even though what I was doing was really rather selfless, there could not be a more selfish way of doing it.


     This has also led me to more closely study our religion and what we believe as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. What do we believe in? Why do we do what we are told as a church? Why is this important?
     You see, I could have just gone and not asked myself those questions, dismissing my friend's point as an atheistic fallacy and continue on blindly following what I had grown with. I would not be too different in the sense that I would still be following my religion, and I would be doing what I thought I was supposed to be doing, but I had little to no accountability on the matter. I was simply doing what I had been taught to do, like a robot. There was no investigations, no questions, and no reason to my rhyme by my own standards, and when that conversation happened, it all of a sudden felt like it was not enough. It is what at church we call "leaning on your parent's testimonies." Philosophy teaches it as a fallacy of constants, that we know nothing different so we assume it is all there is (which does not actually make it real or true, just our limited perceptions and experiences). And so we take it for granted. The sun will rise tomorrow, and God exists and loves you. These are what I learned to believe because I knew nothing different. So when someone presented to me the most logical reason against those constants it caused me to look more closely at what I believed in and to see if it could hold up against it.
     Now, I carefully backtrack a little bit after that paragraph, I am not suggesting that one seeks to destroy their belief in order to affirm it, that is no way to make or keep a foundation, much like tempting yourself to cheat on a spouse does not strengthen your relationship with them. But when certain situations arise that challenge the status-quo of yourself, it is important I think to arise to the situation and battle the best of your abilities. It is important to not be ignorant but also hold true to what you believe, like all things in life this takes a careful and meaningful moderation and balance.
     And that is what I did. Granted, being immature and not very motivated at times, it took my longer than it probably should have, but I came to understand what I believe, and why I believe it.

My Own Mess

     My blog so far has been from my point of view of tragic events in my life, which is too often seeming that I am the victim of some terrible and unheard of storm. I hope this is not the case, but to ensure to you all that I in fact have done things and hurt people that have contributed to some of my experiences I would like to detail part of my problems. I, in many ways, have set myself up for failure.
     First off, I understand part of my circumstances excuse me from a degree of what happened. I was (and still am in many ways) mentally unstable. I struggle with feelings and emotions going too far and warping from potentially helpful or beautiful things into destructive and horrible things. I take out my sorrows too many times out on the people who I love and the people I am close to. Too often I am misunderstood and then I unjustly thrust that anger around me. I, in more than one way, am my own worst enemy. I am the common denominator in all of my struggles.

   I find myself in a struggle that I think many of us are in, working on what we can control and trusting that things will work out with things that we cannot control. The balance is real, demanding, and constantly changing, forcing us to adapt or fail. I have not risen to the occasion many times and that has lead to having the events that I cannot control go even worse. Like coming home early from my mission. I was in many ways destined to come home. The Lord wanted to humble me in ways that no other event could replicate, and so in many ways I was "destined" to come home. The difference though is that I could have gone home without hurting so many people as I did. I was bitter and ornery about my weaknesses, and did not seek out help until I had already destroyed much. I am not excusing others, nor excusing myself, things happened and all parties had fault in them, but I want to make sure that I do not come off as some sort of innocent victim.
     Did I deserve what happened to me? No, I do not think I did, nobody deserves to have those feelings of taking away your own life, or feeling that whatever they do they just are not what anyone is looking for. But did I help my cause at all? Not really, and looking back I am ashamed of what I had said and done at times. I am sorrowful about it, even to the extent I avoid even my  mission friends.
     About five months ago I came to the stinging conclusion that I hated my mission. It was a humbling and horrifying moment for me, because this is what I had dreamed of for most of my life, and this is what so many return missionaries have come home and praised with a happiness unparalleled. Was my belief fading? Was it proof that maybe none of this was true or that it was all some elaborate lie?
     That was a tough pill to have to swallow, and again in my life I found myself wondering if I had been duped or tricked. But quickly after that a flood of memories and times that I was saved and spared and helped in ways that coincidence could not explain, and the feelings of some of the best times of my life came back.
     I realized that it was not so much that I did not believe or did not know, but rather that I had weakened my belief by becoming a victim and falling to circumstance. You see, instead of realizing that I hated my mission not only because it was an incredibly tough road that had emotionally and physically drained me but also because I had really done some harm, I instead attacked the very faith that had kept me alive. I chose to become bitter.
     Looking back on that moment, I think that it is ok that I hated my mission (after all, I still do) but I think for different reasons. I hated the circumstances I was put in, and I hated how I acted, and what I went through, though I do not hate what I have become because of it. It shed light on many of my huge flaws, and has allowed me to take the steps to conquering them. I have become so much more understanding of people because of what has happened to me, and I strive to help people out far more than I have ever before, because I better understand the meaning of pain and hurt.
   

     That is why this blog exists, so I can diffuse potential bitterness inside of me. Since day one I have selfishly dedicated this blog to myself so that I can see who I am and what I stand for. This is just a public journal, and thus tends to reflect what haunts me and what has changed me. I have often mused to myself that this blog should more aptly be named "The Dark Shades of Red" or "The Colors of Deep Maroon" because it has such noir subjects and memories. I do not publish these to get sympathy, nor do I for attention, for any recognition, but rather because I want those around me and those I love to know that I struggle, and that all of these struggles do not have to be in vain. I owe it to you all as an explanation for every text or call left unanswered, every time I had let one of you down, and every time I left no reason nor rhyme. This is so that I can become a better friend, brother, son, and one day husband and father.