The gift of not knowing

We work with an agency on several commercial interiors projects. The owner is super cool guy. Let’s call him Mike.

Mike has experienced a growth spurt with his company and he can’t keep up with all the hiring. Which is a great problem to have.

Mike and I have a very similar background. Both of us grew up in very evangelical homes and have since left the fold. He also considered going into seminary and becoming a pastor.

We both feel our knowledge of the Bible is pretty high compared to the average bear. When I told him about a recent conversation I had with someone who told me that they pray the scales will be lifted from my eyes and the veil from my mind, he can relate a 100% with hearing the same thing in his world and shuttering from it.

We were talking on a recent project together and I couldn’t help but be moved to whatever the non-believing version of “Amen, brother!” is.

The tendency for friends and family in the faith to say to us non-believers is that they wish we could see the light, know what they know, understand what they understand.

As if their certainty is a badge of honor. They cannot fathom how pretentious it is.

I, too, hear things like, “I thought I was right all the time when I was your age.” But that’s the thing, I don’t know. I don’t know if there is or isn’t a God. I don’t understand how I can be criticized or misunderstood to think I’m the one who’s right about God. I don’t think anyone can know yay or nay, and have taken the position that not knowing is okay.

The only party in a discussion about God who claims certain knowledge is the one who says God exists, he lives all around us and he will reward that mental approval with a lifetime in the blissful version of eternity.

I was listening to this episode of the Atheist Experience and couldn’t help but be moved to write this out (again). Ha.