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- Feb 24, 2013
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Having been an atheist for a decade or so, I ended up becoming a Christian again in my mid 20s. As with most converts I have known and read, the real conversion was in two parts. The first came from reasoning through my childhood faith, an undeveloped belief system is which there was little to differentiate God and Santa Clause, a catch all for all that was good in my life.As I grew away from my faith I rejected it for all the same reasons you see it rejected here. I was, I now understand, a slave to my five sense. It is a weird thing to hit that rational breakthrough where God makes more sense.. I have since considered the irony of atheist me, both demanding sensory proof of God from the faithful while also lecturing them of the weaknesses inherent in human sensory experience to explain away their own experiences. I had built the theory and a set of demanded proofs that were entirely contradictory.
I find, though language is a limiter in varying degrees for those describing the final awakening experience, that the experience of the convert to have a rather common theme. I have never heard it explained better than it was by author John C. Wright, who went from staunch atheism to being baptized Catholic in 2008. In his retelling, he had been experimenting with prayer as an atheist, a "I know you probably aren't real, but if you are then send me a sign." type of prayer in which he didn't pretend to be a believer in his prayer, he just called into the darkness for what might be there. He explained what happened later as follows:
“Something from beyond the reach of time and space, more fundamental than reality, reached across the universe and broke into my soul and changed me…I was altered down to the root of my being…It was like falling in love.”
I have found that to be as near spot on as I have found to my own experience.
Later after that experience I would begin reading the classic Christian apologia by C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton, and again, something hit home with me in C.S. Lewis' book "Letters to Malcolm, Chiefly on Prayer" where Lewis delves into something that I had never really considered. He asserted in one letter that the most sincere prayer, in his view, is a prayer without words. He saw words as limiting, and asserted that there is a deeper relationship with God than mere words can do justice. He used an interesting analogy with music: He argued that music is a language without words-- and if it were to be forced into words it would be a language comprised entirely of adjectives -- and so faith, for me, more closely resembles an internal symphony than a dialogue.
The music started for me 20 years ago this week, and I have been working on my listening skills ever since.
I find, though language is a limiter in varying degrees for those describing the final awakening experience, that the experience of the convert to have a rather common theme. I have never heard it explained better than it was by author John C. Wright, who went from staunch atheism to being baptized Catholic in 2008. In his retelling, he had been experimenting with prayer as an atheist, a "I know you probably aren't real, but if you are then send me a sign." type of prayer in which he didn't pretend to be a believer in his prayer, he just called into the darkness for what might be there. He explained what happened later as follows:
“Something from beyond the reach of time and space, more fundamental than reality, reached across the universe and broke into my soul and changed me…I was altered down to the root of my being…It was like falling in love.”
I have found that to be as near spot on as I have found to my own experience.
Later after that experience I would begin reading the classic Christian apologia by C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton, and again, something hit home with me in C.S. Lewis' book "Letters to Malcolm, Chiefly on Prayer" where Lewis delves into something that I had never really considered. He asserted in one letter that the most sincere prayer, in his view, is a prayer without words. He saw words as limiting, and asserted that there is a deeper relationship with God than mere words can do justice. He used an interesting analogy with music: He argued that music is a language without words-- and if it were to be forced into words it would be a language comprised entirely of adjectives -- and so faith, for me, more closely resembles an internal symphony than a dialogue.
The music started for me 20 years ago this week, and I have been working on my listening skills ever since.