sulawesigirl4
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
Greetings fellow GIS posters. 
I have a question or maybe one could say problem that I would really appreciate feedback on. I know that I haven't been posting here much in the last year since I moved to Africa (for obvious reasons...not as much internet availability) but I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce myself to some of the people who may have started hanging out here since I was a regular.
I suppose you will draw the obvious conclusion from the fact that I am one of the non “general” moderators of this forum (meaning that this is the only forum that I have any responsibility for) that I have some interest or history with faith/religion. Which is true. I grew up as the child of Christian missionaries doing translation and church-planting work in a small mountain village in Indonesia. The island of Sulawesi, to be exact, (ahhh, now the nick makes sense, eh?)
I went to missionary boarding school, became a Christian at a young age, followed the rules, didn’t ask questions, and accepted doctrine as I was told. It wasn’t until near the end of my time at a Christian liberal arts college that I started to come to terms with the fact that there were many inconsistencies within Christianity as I was experiencing it. I had come to the point where I felt I would have to give up my faith because I couldn’t live as a hypocrite. I felt that all the “good” things I said and did, the songs we sang in chapel, the verses that were quoted as reasons for overbearing moralistic “lifestyle” rules weren’t life-GIVING but seemed a lot like an attempt to curry favor with an all-powerful being out of self-interest. The question that haunted me was rather simple. Why do I believe? Is it because I am afraid of hell? Because I want to be on the good side of the big guy who can make me or break me? Is it simply all selfish egotism and if so, then what is the point of even pretending when you are dealing with a God that knows your thoughts? If you say, “oh God, I love you so much,” when you know that actually, you don’t love as you should or at least not as much as you are claiming…then aren’t you lying? And lying to God would seem to be serious? All this to say, I decided to be honest with myself and with God and say openly that actually, I was upset about several things in our dealings with each other and also that I didn’t understand certain so-called doctrines or that I was unwilling to accept others (the systematic dehumanization of women in the religion for example).
After a lot of mental and spiritual anguish, I came to an ultimatum. If Christianity was the narrow-minded legalistic structure that I knew it to be and nothing more, than in order to be true to my conscience, I would have to abandon it. This was actually a really terrifying prospect. It had been the entire underpinning of my life and I didn’t know anything else. But the one thing that gave me a glimmer of hope that perhaps the incredible loving and open heart exhibited by the Jesus of the Bible could be alive and the basis for faith was the testimony of U2. That sounds trite, I suppose, but in all honesty, in my darkest hour of crisis the lyrics and statements of the Christian members of U2 (Bono in particular) showed me that one could be a Christian and yet still wrestle with not only matters of doctrine but also the heavy issues of poverty, equality, hypocrisy, greed, so many things. That it didn’t mean having all the answers. I had the good fortune to find out about a study center in Switzerland called L’Abri (founded by Christian apologist Francis Schaefer) where I spent a good amount of time pondering, questioning, rethinking, and re-seeing Christianity. And I came out on the other hand with something of a fledgling but real hold on faith. I still feel tender. I still can’t sit through a traditional church service without feeling the old cynicism of the hypocrisy of the Church rear its head. But it is a journey and one that I know I’m not alone in. I want to be a follower of Christ and not a follower of rules. In many things I am agnostic. I don’t have the answers and so I try to remain open-minded. I believe that Christ provided the way to God, but I don’t necessarily think that means that each person that will be in heaven will have heard the name of Jesus. I am not suggesting a universal “everyone goes to heaven” approach, but rather that God in his all-knowing and merciful self will see what people did with the knowledge they were given. If that means that people of other faiths are included, I am open to it.
Wow, I am long-winded. All I wanted to do was provide some sort of framework for what I really wanted to talk about. As most of you know, I have been living in Africa working as a Peace Corps volunteer for just over a year now. It’s been both exciting and tedious (as is, I suppose, most of life) and I think I am only just starting to hit my stride in terms of being able to communicate well enough in the two languages I use in order to effect change. One of the biggest changes in my life has been that I have been dating a Malian man for about 8 months now. He is Muslim. I am Christian. I haven’t had the courage to tell my parents. I have always been a very independent person (thanks to being at boarding school since age 6) so it’s not a question of needing their “permission”. It’s because I know that they would never understand. And more importantly that they will feel hurt and sad. And it makes me sad to think of them not taking joy in the relationship that gives me so much joy. So, I guess what I am hoping for is two-fold. If any of you have actually slogged through this tome so far, I would appreciate your advice. I know I need to tell my parents, but I am trying to think of HOW to go about it. And I guess from anyone who has experience with multi-cultural or multi-religious relationships I would be interested in knowing the difficulties and advantages. I am lucky in that my boyfriend and I have been able to not only respect each other’s beliefs but also dialogue openly about them. I have a prayer rug for him at my house for when he is here during prayer times. He has accompanied me to church. I feel that we feel free to express ourselves. So that must be good, right?
Again, I hope that my rambling has not offended anyone. I can only speak of my experience as honestly as I can. I realize that in many ways I am still bitter and cynical towards the Church but it is something I am working on. Thanks in advance to any and everyone who takes the time to read and respond.
Walk on,
sula
I have a question or maybe one could say problem that I would really appreciate feedback on. I know that I haven't been posting here much in the last year since I moved to Africa (for obvious reasons...not as much internet availability) but I wanted to take the opportunity to introduce myself to some of the people who may have started hanging out here since I was a regular.
I suppose you will draw the obvious conclusion from the fact that I am one of the non “general” moderators of this forum (meaning that this is the only forum that I have any responsibility for) that I have some interest or history with faith/religion. Which is true. I grew up as the child of Christian missionaries doing translation and church-planting work in a small mountain village in Indonesia. The island of Sulawesi, to be exact, (ahhh, now the nick makes sense, eh?)
I went to missionary boarding school, became a Christian at a young age, followed the rules, didn’t ask questions, and accepted doctrine as I was told. It wasn’t until near the end of my time at a Christian liberal arts college that I started to come to terms with the fact that there were many inconsistencies within Christianity as I was experiencing it. I had come to the point where I felt I would have to give up my faith because I couldn’t live as a hypocrite. I felt that all the “good” things I said and did, the songs we sang in chapel, the verses that were quoted as reasons for overbearing moralistic “lifestyle” rules weren’t life-GIVING but seemed a lot like an attempt to curry favor with an all-powerful being out of self-interest. The question that haunted me was rather simple. Why do I believe? Is it because I am afraid of hell? Because I want to be on the good side of the big guy who can make me or break me? Is it simply all selfish egotism and if so, then what is the point of even pretending when you are dealing with a God that knows your thoughts? If you say, “oh God, I love you so much,” when you know that actually, you don’t love as you should or at least not as much as you are claiming…then aren’t you lying? And lying to God would seem to be serious? All this to say, I decided to be honest with myself and with God and say openly that actually, I was upset about several things in our dealings with each other and also that I didn’t understand certain so-called doctrines or that I was unwilling to accept others (the systematic dehumanization of women in the religion for example).
After a lot of mental and spiritual anguish, I came to an ultimatum. If Christianity was the narrow-minded legalistic structure that I knew it to be and nothing more, than in order to be true to my conscience, I would have to abandon it. This was actually a really terrifying prospect. It had been the entire underpinning of my life and I didn’t know anything else. But the one thing that gave me a glimmer of hope that perhaps the incredible loving and open heart exhibited by the Jesus of the Bible could be alive and the basis for faith was the testimony of U2. That sounds trite, I suppose, but in all honesty, in my darkest hour of crisis the lyrics and statements of the Christian members of U2 (Bono in particular) showed me that one could be a Christian and yet still wrestle with not only matters of doctrine but also the heavy issues of poverty, equality, hypocrisy, greed, so many things. That it didn’t mean having all the answers. I had the good fortune to find out about a study center in Switzerland called L’Abri (founded by Christian apologist Francis Schaefer) where I spent a good amount of time pondering, questioning, rethinking, and re-seeing Christianity. And I came out on the other hand with something of a fledgling but real hold on faith. I still feel tender. I still can’t sit through a traditional church service without feeling the old cynicism of the hypocrisy of the Church rear its head. But it is a journey and one that I know I’m not alone in. I want to be a follower of Christ and not a follower of rules. In many things I am agnostic. I don’t have the answers and so I try to remain open-minded. I believe that Christ provided the way to God, but I don’t necessarily think that means that each person that will be in heaven will have heard the name of Jesus. I am not suggesting a universal “everyone goes to heaven” approach, but rather that God in his all-knowing and merciful self will see what people did with the knowledge they were given. If that means that people of other faiths are included, I am open to it.
Wow, I am long-winded. All I wanted to do was provide some sort of framework for what I really wanted to talk about. As most of you know, I have been living in Africa working as a Peace Corps volunteer for just over a year now. It’s been both exciting and tedious (as is, I suppose, most of life) and I think I am only just starting to hit my stride in terms of being able to communicate well enough in the two languages I use in order to effect change. One of the biggest changes in my life has been that I have been dating a Malian man for about 8 months now. He is Muslim. I am Christian. I haven’t had the courage to tell my parents. I have always been a very independent person (thanks to being at boarding school since age 6) so it’s not a question of needing their “permission”. It’s because I know that they would never understand. And more importantly that they will feel hurt and sad. And it makes me sad to think of them not taking joy in the relationship that gives me so much joy. So, I guess what I am hoping for is two-fold. If any of you have actually slogged through this tome so far, I would appreciate your advice. I know I need to tell my parents, but I am trying to think of HOW to go about it. And I guess from anyone who has experience with multi-cultural or multi-religious relationships I would be interested in knowing the difficulties and advantages. I am lucky in that my boyfriend and I have been able to not only respect each other’s beliefs but also dialogue openly about them. I have a prayer rug for him at my house for when he is here during prayer times. He has accompanied me to church. I feel that we feel free to express ourselves. So that must be good, right?
Again, I hope that my rambling has not offended anyone. I can only speak of my experience as honestly as I can. I realize that in many ways I am still bitter and cynical towards the Church but it is something I am working on. Thanks in advance to any and everyone who takes the time to read and respond.
Walk on,
sula
) He is educated and smart, picks up on ideas that maybe haven’t come across his path before easily enough. He speaks English better than pretty much every Malian I have met. His parents were separated when he was young, his father moved away to Canada ages ago and his mother died last year. He was extremely close to his mom, and therefore has a great deal of respect for women (something most Malian men seriously lack) and a spirit of willingness to pitch in and help out. When he is over at my house he jumps in and does the dishes, sweeps and mops, and is generally more a clean freak than I am. He is very independent and unlike pretty much all Malians is not tightly bound to his extended family. In fact, he doesn’t care much as to what they think of him or his choices in life. He’s a very moral person, more so than I am, I would say. He takes his religion seriously and prays five times a day. One evening when we had come back from a restaurant, he was preparing to pray and I, knowing he had already done the requisite number, asked him why he was doing so. “Do you have to have a reason to thank God for the things he’s done for you?” he asked me. “He brought us home safely. That’s reason enough to thank him.” Put me to shame really. 
