True Story

Can anyone be certain that what they believe is empirically true? Is a belief simply a narrative, a fabrication, to contextualize innumerable experiences? Kristin pursues these questions. She hopes that this article be received in the spirit it is shared: as supportive of those pursuing religious faith, but not inviting a heated debate. This is the second essay in our series on doubt. Look for the previous essay [here] and for the following essay [here]. -Editor

I don’t feel much pressure to stifle all doubt when it comes to my belief in God. In fact, my community has been very supportive of doubt as a useful step in the process, leading (hopefully) to a fuller and more personal faith. The area I more often feel pressure in is the burden of intellectual honesty. It’s been suggested to me that some people might come to their belief in God because of a kind of intellectual negligence, or because they are choosing a belief system that seems comfortable and safe, rather than true. Believers may be unwilling to be as rigorous with themselves as they could be, because there is a conflict of interest. Why engage with a painful, messy, violent re-evaluation of your beliefs when you are blessed with the sense that everything happens for a reason, you are being well taken care of, and that everything in the end is going to be okay?

Now, I think this question of “the more comforting story” is fascinating. And to reveal my punch line right here at the beginning, I do concede that my belief in God boils down to my preference for a story where everyone lives happily ever after. I want to argue, though, that every worldview boils down to a similar choice. Consider that each of us perceives the world exclusively according to the stimuli which act on our physical bodies, and are in turn interpreted by our brains. It is truly amazing that the human brain, given only minimal information, can form beautiful pictures, textures, scents, flavors and music, which we appreciate as experiences. Given raw data, our brains tell stories.

For plenty of people, that train of thought causes a bit of an existential meltdown, because it could mean that nothing we experience is “real.” Neurons can misfire; we can hallucinate. Even when our biological mechanisms are working, we can delude ourselves, misinterpret, or misunderstand. There are no guarantees that we perceive the world the way it really is. It’s the same in relationships: there is never a way to know, with certainty, that we are seeing another person as they exist outside of our interpretation of them. It may be that we can only ever know the version of them that exists in our own minds. (The movie Inception is a fascinating exploration of this idea.)

I can be sure that I exist in some way, and beyond that I’m just extrapolating. The presence of the physical world around me, the existence of other complex beings, and any understanding I have of them depends on a series of leaps of faith. Based on the information available to me, I choose to believe it’s all real even though I can’t prove it. We tell stories, and we live from them as if they were true. The God Story makes sense to me. I can’t prove that it’s the correct version; I think of it more as a strong working hypothesis. I’m unconvinced that anyone out there can be absolutely sure of their own version’s accuracy.

To return to the idea of intellectual honesty, I respect the truth-seekers who refuse to accept a worldview simply because it is comforting. I see tremendous value in questioning; keeping yourself in integrity. Don’t adopt the version of things that made sense when you were a kid, don’t stop asking questions, and don’t allow your inclination for what’s easy to overcome your thirst for what is true. But I think it is a mistake to pretend that in the end, we aren’t just each choosing the story that best suits our values and perception of the world. I worry that in the name of intellectual honesty we are being commanded to reject everything and start fresh from the rubble. I don’t feel any need to do that for myself, and I believe that everyone’s process is different. I think that in the greater conversation, it is important to create space for those differences.

Kristin Coffin

Kristin lives in Austin, TX, working as an assistant for the newly planted, New Way Church. She moved to Austin from Bryn Athyn in August of 2010, and has greatly enjoyed pursuing new and innovative ways to share religion.

Comments

[Karin Childs]

I like this, Kristin. Faith seems to become a mixture of things we have really thought through, and things that simply continue to feel right, so we don't feel a need to think it through. (Often we end up re-evaluating beliefs when some situation comes up in life that demands that we do so.) It seems good to have both, and yes, like you say, always recognize that our view of things is always affected by who we are, which is affected by so many factors! This approach seems to me to allow a development of a strong personal faith without feeling like we have to convince others to see it our way!