Jimmy Crumbacher
HMHV 201
“Questions of Faith”
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“Questions of Faith”
I’m lying in bed. This XL twin bed is hardly big enough to roll around on; so on
my back is where I do most of my thinking. My head hurts while I stare up at the ceiling,
seeing things beyond. My religion class today really covered some materials that make
me question my faith, just as I have been doing all semester. I really enjoy the class, but I
hate how it makes me doubt myself. I wish my dad was here: he always has the right
answer, even though sometimes I don’t think it’s true or correct, at least it makes me feel
better. I roll over to my left side, away from the wall, contemplating everything. Being
raised Catholic is something I take pride in. My parents have taken me to church every
Sunday since I was little. I still remember the first time we went: my dad combed my hair
and my mom made fun of it. I don’t think I have combed my hair since. I was an altar
boy for five years, until I outgrew the robes we had to wear. I used to want to be a priest,
but that only lasted until puberty. In those days it was easier for me to believe: my parents
were always there to comfort and reassure me. It may seem childish, but even though I’m
twenty years old, I still say my prayers before I go to bed. I still go to church on Sundays
on my own accord. How many kids continue to go to church when they are on their own,
not having their parents make them go anymore? I pray for a safe drive home every time
I go home for the weekend, but my parents aren’t always here. Going off to college was
exciting. This is my second year and I love it, but at this stage of the life game, you have
to start making your own decisions.
This world religions class I’m taking makes me think about my beliefs and
sometimes doubt my faith. Religion is, for the most part, based on this concept of faith:
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believing in something you can’t touch, see, or hear. Sometimes there are miracles,
physical forms of God’s work, to make the people believe. Today we learned about the
birth of Buddha and how he had a miraculous birth from his mother’s side! A few Roman
emperors’ stories follow similar scenarios. This is where the doubt starts: my Jesus
doesn’t seem so special and unique anymore. This line of thought leads to others: what
makes my religion the ‘right’ one? One aspect I found intriguing is that the ‘Satan’ figure
and apocalyptic views of the end of the world of Judaism, Christianity and Islam comes
from the Persian Zoroastrian religion. We also learned that Jesus had siblings, which
doesn’t sit with me or my conservative Catholic views. I don’t believe this, but which of
this stuff should I believe? Which to disregard? Anger flushes my face. I just want to
know, I don’t want to be tried and tested for my beliefs right now. I am preoccupied with
my studies: I plan on becoming a doctor, and I barely have time to eat sometimes, much
less to contemplate religion. This class makes me question and doubt everything I have
believed in since I can remember. I went to a Christian high school. I had a few Brothers
as my teachers and something no public school offers: religion classes. My world religion
class in high school was nothing compared to this.
I role onto my back and cover my face with my hands. Why do I have to go
through this agony? I have never been confronted with something of this
magnitude, and I’m despairing. Why do I have to go through this? As I lie in bed
pondering life, I start to think of my dad and my family. I wish dad was here to
talk to me. My family has through some very tough times. My mind strays off to
the time in my life that things got the worst, a breaking that I thought my family
would never have to go through.
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*
Religion has always been a huge part of my life. My mother seemingly has
been through the ups and down of religions, but for reasons unknown to me until a
few years ago. There were times when she would spend days with the nuns from
our church. She became very spiritual for these spurts, but they would subside, and
then resurface again almost randomly. She would start to get depressed about life
and she would get sick. When she would return from her day with the sisters, she
seemed better. Religion seemed to make her healthier, but that would only last so
long. After doing this for several years, one day she decided to leave my dad.
In late summer before my junior year of high school, my parents picked up
my sister and me from our friends’ houses. I had spent the night with all my
friends after a party, at one of their houses. Mom and Dad were taking us to a late
lunch. They had to talk to us about something important. This was weird, because
this had never happened before. I asked questions and the closer we got to the
restaurant, the less patience my parents had for me. They wanted to wait until we
got to the restaurant, it must have been really important. I took my flip flops off
because they were bothering me. I kept at my questioning though, and they finally
gave in.
As we pulled up to a red light dad said “Your mom is leaving me .” He
sounded emotionless on the outside: that was his way. Yet there was a note of pain
in his voice, something he was hiding, which was also his way. My father never
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showed pain or exhaustion. He worked a full-time job, and taught karate three
nights a week. I think this contributed to the tensions between my parent s: when
dad was home he just wanted to put his feet up. My mom wanted more attention.
The second my dad told us the news, I opened the door and ran. I couldn’t believe
this was happening to me. My heart beat faster, trying to keep from breaking. My
world was falling apart, and there was nothing I could do. Feet pounding into the
cement, rocks tearing my feet. This pain was nothing: my world had just been
shattered. I ran to my friend’s house and they were all sleeping still. I went into
the room from an outside door, and sat on his bed. I cried. I didn’t care how old or
how tough I thought I was: this was more than my façade could handle. Why God?
Why me? Why my family? Why? Why? WHY?
Mom told the family my dad didn’t treat her like she wanted to be treated .
Dad worked too much and didn’t care enough about her. My dad was my strength,
my hero. My mother saying she was leaving, and that dad did not care about her
was an oddity for me as I stared at my father; tears gleaming in his usually
emotionless blue eyes. My family didn’t have an abundance of money; he had to
work to feed and clothe us. My mom also said my sister and I didn’t appreciate
her, and what she did for us. She and I were never close: I always went to my dad
for everything, but that didn’t mean I didn’t appreciate her. No matter how much
we pleaded for her to stay, no amount of tears or begging could turn her around.
She had made her decisions, hardened her heart to our tears and pleas. Mom said
she had already tried over and over again. I was confused, because I didn’t want to
chase her away. She moved into an apartment in town. My sister and I stayed
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there, because it was closer to school. Being a junior in high school, I wanted to
sleep in as late as I could. My dad suffered the brunt of this impact. He lost 15
pounds off of his already thin 5’8, 150 pound frame. He stayed at our old house
sometimes. It was thirty miles outside of town, and it was too lonely, so he stayed
at his parent’s house. Grandma and Grandpa lived just outside of town. Thi s was
all unreal, like a dream. Remembering these times now, they seem like a dream:
blurry and unclear.
Where was God when our family needed him the most?
My family, my foundation was breaking apart and he wasn’t there to listen
to my prayers. My dad started going to church everyday, faith in God was the only
thing he could turn to for help. He prayed to God, promised to do anything for his
wife to come back. He didn’t know anything else: they were high school
sweethearts. They were married right after I was born, only a few months after
they had both graduated from high school. God seemed to have turned his back on
us. He didn’t answer my mother’s prayers for her husband to treat her as an equal,
and now He wouldn’t answer my dad’s prayers to bring his wife back. I was
distraught, life wasn’t supposed to go like this. Not my family. My sister, being a
year younger and more rebellious than me, started to drift away, not submerging
herself in the pain of the family. Growing distant, I thought we had lost h er: she
wasn’t on my dad’s side with me. I remember pleading with my mom to come
back, that dad would treat her better. I cried more in that part of my life than I
have ever. Staying with mom, we didn’t go to church; she gave up on God long
ago.
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*
In my dorm room, I am brought back into reality with a banging on my
door. I don’t want to get up and answer it, I’m too emotional and don’t want to
talk right now. I just look at the door and wait for them to leave. I look at the
handle to see if it’s locked. My friends usually knock and open the door before I
have time to reply. Dangling from the worn polished handle is a rosary. I laugh to
myself. Even when I doubt my religion, it is still there dangling in front of me. I
am not the only one to doubt my beliefs; it has happened throughout history to
most of the major religions. The northern tribes of Israel split from the whole, only
later to be destroyed by the Assyrians, and then the southern tribes were captured
and enslaved by the Babylonians. The Christians were persecuted by the Romans.
The early Islamic communities were persecuted in Mecca. These people in turn
blamed God. Why would he let this happen to them? This line of thinking led to
them doubting themselves. Were they not following God’s rule correctly? Did they
get it wrong? That’s were the Protestant traditions come in. New attempts to get
God’s word right. People could have gotten it wrong, interpreted God’s word
incorrectly. Humans wrote it down, and we are imperfect creatures. The Islamic
Qu’ran is believed by its followers to be an exact copy of the one in heaven, word for
word. Does God punish or challenge his followers? Is it some sort of test? All these ideas
contort my mind. I don’t have an answer and my dad isn’t here to answer them for me.
God, I want to know. I believe in you, yet at the same time I doubt. God has healed others
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in the past, lepers, the blind and even the dead. If he can heal people beyond the reaches
of modern day medicine, why would he not help my family? Religion used to be the only
way to heal the sick: it is an ancient sort of medicine. There is a lot of research about how
religious people, people with faith, are on average healthier than those without a God in
their life. Fifty percent of doctors believe that God affects a patient’s health, and a third
believe He will keep those that believe healthy. When medicine fails, people turn to God
for help. There was a study on how long some people lived after heart surgery. The
people who were religious, on average lived longer than those who were not. My dad’s
heart was affected in a completely different way, but it didn’t seem like he would last
much longer after my mom left.
Why would You allow all these different theologies? Is there even a God? That
one scares me the most. The theory of evolution challenges all religions. With evolution,
the purpose of life is to procreate. Nothing more than to keep your species continuing on,
this thought depresses me. I would like to think of myself as something more than an
animal. When you die, there is no soul to leave your body, and your memories and life
end there. The only difference between us and animals is our ability for abstract thought.
Abstract thought is thinking about something you can’t see. If you think about it, abstract
thought is the reason for religion and the belief in a higher being. Religion gives man a
purpose: to serve his God and follow his beliefs. This makes us more than animals. We
have souls and must take care of them and teach our children our religious views, beliefs
and morals. When we die, we are either punished or rewarded. Hell, heaven or rebirth, all
religion believes in some afterlife or rebirth. Well, most do at least. The Seventh Day
Adventists believe in heaven, but instead of a hell, they believe the people not worthy of
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heaven cease to exist. This is similar to the aspects of evolution. Going full circle, that
last concept confuses me even more. I should call dad, he could help. As this thought
drifts across my mind, I start to think of the divorce again.
*
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*
My family had started to settle into a groove after a few months. My mother
seemed like a teenager. She was all about herself: she wanted to go out with her friends
and have all the fun that she didn’t get to have when she was a kid. This ate at me,
because she had to grow up prematurely because I was born when she was only 18; my
dad had just turned 20. Was this my fault? She didn’t go to church. My dad was slowly
dying. He worked out everyday: my mom said she liked muscular guys. I don’t known if
she really meant this; or rather she was trying to push him further away. He wasn’t
putting on any weight because he threw up everything he ate, sick from losing the love of
his life. His illness was something medicine couldn’t cure. Dad has taught karate since I
can remember; its one of his passions. During this trying time, the karate school that
belonged to the family was put on the back burner. He had trained his body to endure
whatever anyone could throw at him. Dad pushed his body beyond its limits, but no
matter how much karate he did, martial arts didn’t train the heart. He worked still, but
sparingly. How can someone think about money when his family was shattered? Family
is the reason a man works: he has to support his family. His religious approach was the
one my mom had taken before she left; he went to church everyday. He prayed to God for
a miracle to soften his wife’s heart to the needs of the family. My sister had distanced
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herself, she didn’t seem to care. She wanted my mom to do what made her happy. She
had found a boyfriend, and they grew close quickly, too close because she was fifteen,
and he was eighteen. I think that she was trying to connect with someone now that her
family no longer really existed. Even though I disagreed with this relationship, because
he was too old for my little sister, he wasn’t a bad guy, so I didn’t tell her anything. I took
this family issue more to heart, but was distracted by school and football. I had always
wanted to play and this was my first year. I loved every second of it, and it took a toll on
my mind and body. After practice, I was too tired to focus on the divorce, and homework
took the rest of my mental strength. I went to church occasionally. Not every Sunday, but
I still went. I didn’t want to go. I went because it felt like it was a responsibility for my
dad and that my going to church helped him keep his hopes up.
The family had split into two: my sister and mom wanted what we currently had.
My father and I wanted the family back. This was obvious. The question was, whose side
had God taken? Things were as bad as they could get, my mom was going to get a lawyer
to force my dad to sign the divorce papers. He fought this tooth and nail, doing
everything he could to keep this from happening.
Dad had started watching Dr. Phil, and how he solved all of these other families’
problems. One day, my father sent Phil an email, and my family was invited to fly out the show would pay for our plane tickets. This gave my dad a new hope: Dr. Phil was a
professional, and if God wasn’t going to do anything, maybe Phil could. My mom
refused to go onto the show. Getting back with my dad was the last thing she wanted to
do. He did the only thing left to him: pray. Dad started seeing signs. I talked to him
recently about his. He began to see the number 11 before something good or bad was
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going to happen. He doesn’t know what this means, but he saw it everywhere and still
does to this day. He began saying prayers to St. Theresa, ‘The Little Flower’. He started
seeing roses in the oddest of places, places where roses usually wouldn’t be. He found
out that St. Theresa’s sign is the rose, and this gave him hope. It seemed that things were
looking up: God had maybe chosen his side. Then the unthinkable happened.
*
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How long should one hold onto faith? Sometimes things don’t get better. The
great Jewish temple has been built twice in Jerusalem, and has been destroyer the same
number of times. The Holocaust was an even worse endeavor: they were killed just for
being Jewish. What is even worse is when religions battle and kill one another. The
Inquisition was the Catholic attempt to root out heretics. They thought that God was
punishing them for incorrect beliefs, and sent the great plague. This killed almost a third
of the European population. As Islam spread, they let the Catholic and Jewish peoples
live as a minority in the newly conquered areas. Polytheists were treated differently. They
could convert or die. How could these religious people, who believe in peace, kill others?
Nichiren, a Japanese Buddhist from the 13th century and the founder of Nichiren
Buddhism, believe it was acceptable to kill people who didn’t teach what he believed. He
justified this because he believed it was better for people to die, rather than to let them
teach others the wrong way. Teaching others the incorrect practices and beliefs brought
bad karma, so if you were dead, you couldn’t accumulate bad karma. Good luck in the
next life. How could God let his people, no matter what they believe, go through these
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trials? Yes people have strayed from Your teachings, but all You have to do is show us.
Please, the world needs You. I need You.
*
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I had just gotten out of school. It had been four of five months since my mom
moved into the apartment. I waited in the parking lot for my sister. I always drove her to
my mom’s place and then came back for football practice. I waited for ten minutes and
called her. Her phone was off. I started to get angry; I couldn’t be late for practice. After
several calls, which led me directly to her answering machine, I decided to call my dad.
“Hey Dad, Haley won’t answer her phone, and I don’t know where she is.”
“Just come back to the apartment, we have to talk.”
“Okay, see you in a sec,” I replied with an uncertain voice. Something was amiss,
yet my dad’s tone told me it wasn’t bad. I couldn’t handle anymore bad news. I turned
my truck on and drove home slowly. I was scared and unsure what to expect.
As I walk into the front room of the apartment, everyone is there. My mom and
dad are in the kitchen looking at each other. Haley and her boyfriend, Brian, come out
from the small room that Haley and I share. Now I’m really confused: why is he here?
All their eyes are red: they have been crying. Everyone gathers around, all standing in the
small living room directly off the kitchen. I ask the obvious question.
“What’s up, why is everyone here?”
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I look into my father’s eyes. There is something there that I haven’t seen in a long
time. They gleam with something… is it hope? Excitement? My heart beats faster.
What’s going on?
The words are spoken by my father, tears forming before words, “Haley is
pregnant.”
I turn to Haley and Brian; their eyes are already flowing with tears. I don’t know
why, but I smile. I’m at a loss for words. I give them a hug, one in each arm. Tears start
to form in my eyes, but they don’t fall.
“Your mom and I are going to try and work things out between us, and help raise
the baby,” my dad says, with something I haven’t heard in his voice for the longest timehappiness.
I find out that when Haley and Brian first told my parents, my dad became angry
and started yelling, until my mom told him, “Keep yelling Chris; it will make the baby go
away.”
At that moment he relaxed, the tension and stress of months melted away, slowly
at first, and when talks of the family being reunited came up, they went away as if never
there. My mom didn’t seem overly excited about the situation, but she knew that they
family needed her now more than ever. Was this God’s was of telling her that the family
had to come first in her life? Why hadn’t God answered her prayers when she was in
need? Only when she was almost out of it, He brought her back.
My sister was only fifteen, but it was okay. I would have my family back.
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What some people resort to for a pregnant fifteen-year old is abortion. What
makes this a miracle in my family’s eyes is that she and Brian had gone to the abortion
clinic. They were taken by my uncle. Haley and Brian didn’t have enough money or jobs
to pay for the abortion, so he was going to help them out with the payments. One of the
protocols at the clinic is that they really talk to the girl and ask if she seriously wants to
go through with it. The last step before the abortion is an ultrasound, showing the girl the
child inside her. Haley saw seed inside her. It didn’t look like a baby. She described it as
a “bean.” This is still the baby’s nickname today, and he is going to turn three in five
months, on May 22. When she saw him, she changed her mind. Of my immediate family,
Haley is the least religious. She has always hated going to church. This story strikes me
as even more miraculous, because God choose to intervene with the one farthest from
him. I can’t see what God could have done to my dad. He didn’t soften my mother’s
heart. God chose my sister to bring my family back together.
This is why Merrick is our miracle. This is why my Dad survived. God used the
one farthest from him in our family and a medical miracle to save my family. Without
the ultrasound, this story wouldn’t have ended this way, and I probably wouldn’t be in
this position I am in today: a med student. They went back to the apartment and told my
parents the news. Families usually take this kind of news in a sad way. This is a lifechanging event. My family took it as great news. Only by God did all of this work out
like it did. My Dad’s faith is the only thing that held him together, the only thing he could
places his hopes in. Without his faith, this situation would have turned out much worse: if
he didn’t have hope, where would he have turned? There has been research about patients
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recovery rates increasing with prayer, and that spiritual practices increase the immune
system. Dad’s strength was his faith in God.
*
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All religions have been tested by their God. The Babylonians were defeated by
the Persians, who in turn freed the enslaved Jews, and let them go back to their
homeland. Christianity eventually became the proclaimed religion of the Roman Empire,
and the Vatican, the capital for Catholics, lies where the heart of the Roman Empire used
to be. Mecca is the main center for the Muslims, even though that’s where they were
prosecuted in their beginnings. People stayed faithful to God, even as they watched their
loved ones die for their beliefs. God rewards the ones who remain strong: when they
finish these tests, their faith is stronger than ever.
*
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Lying in bed, I feel relief come over me. God has tested me before and I stayed
faithful. The difference between then and now is that this is an inner battle. My dad has
been through worse, and God was there in the end for him and my family. I have learned
a lot in this religion class, some of the material troubles me. Is this God’s way of testing
me? Part of me is angry he would do this, but the other part is happy, almost ecstatic.
Through this whole semester, my beliefs have been challenged; my faith has been turned
upside down. Yet at the end of this semester, it makes sense: God wants me to believe in
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him on my own, not because my parents do. My parents are not here to hold my hand and
tell me everything. I need to have this belief on my own. When my faith is challenged, I
won’t say, “Because that’s what my dad said” It will be because I believe, because in my
life, when I have needed him most, he was there. I can’t speak for everyone: not everyone
has had the same experience. My family and I are lucky. Those families who went
through with their divorces, the people killed and affected by Hurricane Katrina, the
people who went down with the Twin Towers in 9/11. Those people died - why would
God let that happen? Many people who lost someone in these horrific events look to the
sky, and scream towards the heavens, “WHY GOD, WHY ME, HAVEN’T I BEEN
DOING WHAT YOU WANT?’’ This has been happening for centuries. I have no
explanation for these people. I cannot justify the deaths of thousands for no apparent
reason. The only thing I can say is, “God acts in mysterious ways”. Yes, I am saddened
that these people didn’t get a second chance, like my family did, but maybe the people
who were indirectly affected by these disasters took something away. Maybe those who
just barely escaped the floods, or ran out of the towers right before they crumpled,
strengthened their beliefs in God.
God still tests my family. Haley and Brian broke up shortly after Merrick was
born. Haley has had drug problems, rehab stays, court dates, restraining orders, police at
the house, and emergency room visits. One thing has stayed constant though, and that is
Merrick. He is the embodiment of all the trials and tribulations that we had to go through
to be where we are today. He is God’s way of telling us that everything will be okay in
the end, just believe. One person takes extra special care of Merrick, my dad. I think my
dad holds him closer because he knows that baby is the reason my family here now. As
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long as baby is taken care of, the family will be okay. We are far from perfect, yet every
time something goes wrong, something happens to test our faith, Merrick is there to
remind us to stay faithful.
*
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I look at my cell phone, and the picture in the background is one of the
baby. He is standing on our orange couch, wearing a diaper and a camouflaged shirt with
long black sleeves, and a large picture of Shrek on the chest. He is the reason my family
is still here- he is the family. I can sit back, for now, knowing that this God I believe in is
there, silently watching and taking care of us. I know challenges will come in the future,
but I can go into them knowing fully that if He can bring my family back together when it
seemed impossible, that no matter what the circumstance, it will be okay.