A few years back I had a student with a number of Egyptian symbols tattooed on her arms. When I asked her about one of the symbols, she explained that it represented the Egyptian god Isis and then added, “I am an Egyptian pagan and worship Egyptian gods and goddesses.” I then asked what I thought was an easy question: “Do you think these gods exist?” She seemed perplexed by the question, but after a long pause said, “No”. I think I asked why she believed in them or maybe I just looked perplexed too. But she was quick to add, “Egyptian paganism just fits my lifestyle and personality.”
My mind keeps returning to this incident because it perfectly illustrates a common attitude toward truth. Increasingly people are choosing their beliefs not on the basis of what they believe is true, but on the basis of personal taste or style. Many seem to even “try on beliefs” to see if they look good in them. This trend may be the final triumph of consumerism—where we create ourselves through our purchases and everything we acquire becomes an expression of our style. Our beliefs are about us—not what’s true.
I get this approach. I like the style of Zen Buddhism—and love that I could be a priest and do Kung Fu. I even like haiku. And at least from a distance, I like the rural and simple lifestyle of the Amish. The idea of a complete separation from the world and American culture often appeals to me, especially when I see something slimy on TV. I think it would be cool to farm with horses. And honestly, I love most things Jewish—and the thought of having every aspect of life shaped by the commands of God seems beautiful. My favorite movie is Fiddler on the Roof and I don’t like to shave. Of course living in the West, and loving the nature deeply, I find the Native American idea of a vision quest exciting.
However, I think the truth is that God wants me to be full of the Holy Spirit, not just empty of all desire like a good Buddhist. As much as Amish folk may love God, I think followers of Christ are called to go into the world without becoming of the world. I believe we are called to be salt and light. And as much I honor the Jewish tree into which we Gentile believers have been grafted, I believe Jesus is the Messiah. And the only vision I am seeking is a revelation of Jesus Christ and his calling on my life. Yes, truth cramps my style.
So I’m stuck—stuck with the style of a follower of Jesus who believes the Bible is true. Honestly, I often don’t like the style of evangelical Christians—we can get cliquish, narrow-minded, legalistic, judgmental, compromising, or too nutty. All of which is frustrating because I think Jesus is cool and the Bible says most sinners even liked hanging out with him. Although some of the best people I have known have been God’s people, right now the Christian style isn’t “trending”. I’m stuck because what I believe and how I live is based on what I think is true, not on what looks good on me.
So I’m a lot like Peter. The followers of Jesus had gotten offended by his claim that only those who ate his body and drank his blood had eternal life. Some followers left to find a more stylish rabbi. Jesus turned to the twelve disciples and said, “You do not want to go away also, do you?” Peter answered, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have believed and have come to know that you are the Holy One of God.” (Jn 6:68) Peter didn’t say he didn’t want to leave, just that there was no place else to go. Peter was stuck with the truth.
And of course, many who claim to be Christians may be motivated by something other than conviction. They may have been raised in a Christian home, dated a gorgeous Christian girl, or caught in a cool Christian youth group—if there are any. Some may have just been raised in Catholic or Eastern Orthodox ethnic traditions. Recently a middle-aged Christian told me that he thought there were many paths to “the Divine,” and that he approached God on the Christian path because that was the tradition in which he was raised. He wasn’t asking whether it was true.
None of these comments are arguing which beliefs are true; I’ve done that elsewhere. There may be many in every religion who after genuine investigation and thought have concluded their beliefs are true. My issue isn’t with them; it is that the truth must matter. We really can’t afford to choose our beliefs about eternity, heaven and hell, God, and redemption based on personal taste and style. The reality of death (and life too, when you think about it) means we are like people getting ready to jump off a cliff. Some may choose beautiful pillows, some independent souls may flap their arms, and others may put on beautiful clothes that perfectly express their style. But I want a parachute—no matter how ugly it is. And I am intolerant enough to argue that everyone else should choose parachutes—not scuba gear, skis, Air Jordans, or Lazy-Boy recliners. Politely, I will say, “That’s interesting, but is it true?”
