Introduction

In wondering where to begin, I suppose it might be best to first introduce myself and provide some background information about myself so that it may become more clear where I am coming from. I want to say first, however, that this blog has no relation, other than incidental, to the Third Mill forum. I happen to be one of the founders and owners of the forum, and it is only by reason of that that a connection is found. What I express in this personal blog is not reflective of any part of any kind of a statement of faith of the forum. This blog is very simply my personal blog. As if to drive this point home, I've decided not to limit myself to writing about Theology, but will allow myself to occasionally venture into other areas of interest anywhere from Philosophy and history to Computer Programs and video games, or even to rants about anything from Church life to reviews of books or music I happen to feel strongly about.

Now, all that said, I will primarily address issues of theology, providing my thoughts and opinions on these matters. I recognize of course that many of these may be emotionally loaded topics for the faithful. I, however, will not always write sensitively, and often my apologetic rhetoric may even become polemic. This is by no means aimed to insight those emotions which so often bring potentially beneficial debate and discussion to sorrowful results. Instead, this blog serves a few purposes; first it serves as an incentive for me to finally write out all those papers I've been meaning to for months, or ages. Also, it is going to serve as a reference point to refer others when they ask for my opinions on particularly heavy topics which generally take hours of explanation. The final purpose, however, is in forcing myself to write comprehensively and dynamically about the topics which I feel strongly about, I may improve my writing.

Now, I suppose as a means of introduction, I should tell the story of my testimony. First, I was in fact raised Christian by my mother. My exposure to Christianity, however, has been interesting to say the least. My family on my mother's side was and remains fairly anti-religious over all, probably due mostly to their harsher exposure to some more radical forms of it. For instance, my Grandmother and Grandfather on that side were Catholic and Protestant respectively, and when they were betrothed, The Catholic church told my Grandmother that she would surely burn in hell for marrying a heretic, and the Protestant Church of my Grandfather {I believe it had some relation to Anglican, but I do not now remember} told him he would go to hell for marrying a non-Christian. This, of course, was a poor initial exposure to that entire generation of my family {what was, in all, seven children}. Nevertheless, one Aunt, now passed away with Cancer, became a born again Christian, baptist, and very active in her faith. My Grandfather who would always read his Bible Sundays and listen/watch sermons in the comfort of his home {preferring this to what he identified as hypocrisy within the church}, had been a concern of hers, though she acted rashly and wrote him a letter which hurt him so much, that the rest of the family was hurt as a result of her fundamentalism. So, the family on my mothers side was beset against religion from fairly early on, though I've noticed that they have rarely shown any disdain towards my faith, which I am ever thankful for. My mother now, with the passing of my Grandfather and Aunt, is the only professed Christian left, though she is in dire need, I fear, of some enthusiasm about her faith. Curiously, my father is not a professed Christian himself, though his side of the family, which consists of two sisters, and his parents, are all to my knowledge Anglicans, and my Grandparents on this side are very faithful. My understanding is that he was in the past involved in some form of church life, but seems to have come to doubt the faith's veracity, but I know little about his exposure to faith on the whole. He generally has, since high school, refrained from speaking about it to any great degree with me. Though this frustrated me a great deal in high school {which I will explain further down}, I now suspect that he did so in order to allow me to come to my own conclusions, unhindered, as it were, by his thoughts and troubles about it. I have come to appreciate that a great deal over time, though I hope perhaps, when I have my thoughts rightly in order myself, I will be able to approach him and hear what his thoughts about these things are.

Very well, so that is a basic outline of my background. Now, for my childhood and growth in my faith. For the most part, again, I was raised with a healthy exposure to Christianity through my mother. Though she was not greatly informed about her faith, she did hold to it in times of desperation, and she did not deny it. I recall being dragged to church Sunday mornings, and hating this "need" to go somewhere and do something on my weekend morning, which I had not agreed to. This was more of a childish selfishness though, than anything else, because truth be told, I had often enjoyed church. If by church you mean playing with other kids your age, with all the toys in the world, and maybe even getting to draw or do some other activity, I suppose at a young age Church was heaven. However, Church became more for me, the reason I was being woken up Sunday and told I couldn't ride my bike, or couldn't read a book, or couldn't play my video games. No, instead I had to go listen to an old man speak words I could probably recite off of memory. That said, Church was an off and on thing for my mother, and so for many months at a time, we wouldn't really go, which made the habit that much more unappealing when it reappeared. All this to say, however, that although I don't think I was really fully indoctrinated, I think it is more than fair to concede that I was quite exposed to religion, and it wasn't some obscure thing to me, but rather, it was something I had a good grasp on from a young age. I distinctly recall, in fact, staying up late at a young age, writing in a little book of mine the things that God liked (feeding puppies), and the things that God didn't like (drowning puppies). Though I was exposed to Religion thanks to my roots and environment, my journey to where I've come today has remained quite virgin to my parent's influence, except in that my father taught me through the years to think critically, calmly, and clearly, whereas my mother, for her part, had played her part in loving me, and in dragging me to church.


Growing up in elementary school, I was the kid who was picked on. I wasn't really quiet, or terribly weak willed or stupid, but I was the one who was always put down. I was always left to wonder why, and only come to the conclusion that obviously there was something bad about me and/or wrong with me. This shattered most of my self confidence to such an extent that even today, when I loose myself or feel insecure in myself, I find myself unable to manage. One vivid example was while in high school and on a class basketball team, I lost confidence in myself, having not made any good plays as I had never played on a team before, and being mocked by my team mates who were, with some level of justification, frustrated with me. I recall not being able to dribble the ball for a good while, as my hands would just shake far too much. I mention this period to highlight perhaps the emotional significance of my reintroduction to a church. For this period though, my thoughts were often dismay and darkness, but I did not cave to them very often. For the better part of this period, I did have one very close friend who was quite different from me, in that he came from a catholic background, but generally disregarded faith as it held no significance to his life, and was quite the popular one in every regard. I would say that having him in my life did indeed keep me from suicide, most likely. Eventually, however, as I moved on to high school, we began to grow apart, as he was one year behind me.

When I first hit high school, I went to a terrible school, where of course I was still the one without friends, and always the one picked on, whether it was a girl pouring her juice box over my head as a dare, or not being able to sit with anybody for lunch, it was definitely reminiscent of Elementary school, only helping to reinforce a lower level of self esteem. I had learnt from then, that the best way to become stronger, was to take it with tears. At least, that had been my philosophy, ingrained in me from my life experience. It was around this time, however, that my mother suggested that I go visit a nice baptist church we used to go to, which had moved to somewhere a little closer to our area. I was a bit shy and a bit tentative, but eventually I went to the first Friday night youth group event. I wasn't approached initially, and it was sort of awkward, but I was used to being in that situation, so I just tried to be myself and play it by ear. To my delightful surprise, I was able to feel welcome enough that I didn't feel so odd about showing up the next time, and eventually this became habit. This was perhaps a time of spiritual growth for me, but I was nonetheless fairly unforgiving with those who supposed themselves teachers. I would often ask them why they believed this or that, and require them to produce sound answers to questions.

This first year of high school, however, was my last at that school, and I was able to join my father going to a much bigger school, much further away, where it just so happened that he worked. This was partially a fresh start, though somehow I managed to still find myself faced with at least one person I knew from elementary school, who quickly let everyone know of where my proper social standing should be. However, it was in this new school that I was shot from the white ghetto I was living in, into a multi ethnic and multi cultural mesh of people and backgrounds I knew little about. Islam quickly became quite intriguing to me, as many of my friends were Muslim, and appreciated my faith. I also made a really good friend here who was witty and respectful, whose friendship I continue to appreciate, though we rarely communicate compared to back then, unless it be through msn. Met with these new ideas and challenges, I often entertained discussion and debate from many people, especially my Muslim friends.

This was a time when I was beginning to really redefine who I was, in just about every sense, but most pertinently in my faith. I recall sometimes going to Friday night youth with so many questions that I would take a few smarter people aside during the soccer games {the church grounds hosting two soccer fields, 3 ranches/stables and a volley ball court, we would generally meet Friday's and primarily play soccer together for a good deal of the evening}, and just challenge them with question after question, often being quite stringent with regards to how cogently they were answering. I would then, in turn, generally attempt to bring those arguments to my Muslim friends, or just keep them in mind for my own reflection. I suppose I was becoming quite an apologist about this time, but I was also quite openly curious and had many questions I sought the answers to.

Two important events to note around this time, in my spiritual walk. First, during all this struggle, I came to a break-down point, where I decided to Pray to God for the Truth. I had become inspired to move towards accepting Islam and the final prophet, as the true revelation. However, immediately I was met with insecurities. What would it mean for my mother? What would it mean for my friends at church? What would I become, and what if I was wrong? These questions, at the time, were of the utmost importance to me, but it dawned on me that if I was to truly seek the truth, I would inevitably have to put my own personal insecurities aside, and not mind about what people may think, say, or feel concerning me. I prayed at that time that if Islam were true, I would be led to accept it. I prayed that God would lead me to the Truth, wherever it may be, and that if in fact Judaism was correct in that it was his revelation, and Jesus was not the Messiah, then I would come to know that it was true. I prayed that even if there was no God, that if there be at all, he would answer me by any means. This was a fairly honest prayer, and I strove always to reflect the very desire of this prayer in my walk. At this time, though, when I prayed this, I heard a voice. Now, this was not an audible voice, but rather more of an internal voice. Like a whispering inclination more than anything. It simply said "Christ.. Christ.". With that, I felt I had gotten nowhere new, and the struggle remained, but at least it felt somehow as though I was doing the right thing; that somehow, I was not altogether lost and blind.

This event perhaps spurred me on into my faith, and my identity as a Christian was reinforced. However, I nonetheless faced in this time of my life a great level of confusion. One day praying, fasting, and seeing beauty in creation, and the next, waking up, wondering if I was just fooling myself into faith. One day finding a solid answer to a question I had come to think unsolvable, and the next finding a new question which appeared unsolvable. It continued to be a struggle; a cycle made all the more brutal because at times everything felt so right, and at other times, I felt absolutely nothing at all.

I was still going to church Fridays, and occasionally Sundays as well, though perhaps not as frequently. Eventually, as I was getting into my Bible more and more, and understanding my faith with greater depth, I was met with another event which I have not forgotten to this day. I was reading through the book of James, and it wasn't long before I was struck with;
"If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." ~ James 1:5

Now, around this time I was still questioning Islam, and struggling with my own faith as well, so I was taken aback by the implication in this passage. I decided to take confidence in it, and pray for what I was lacking. I prayed for God to show me how I could have confidence in my faith, and how I should understand Mohammad and the Qur'an in particular. I prayed that he would give me the answer to my question, and I prayed with confidence that this would happen. Though I wished for this to happen relatively soon if not immediately, I expressed in prayer that I would be as patient as I would need to be. It was at this point that I flipped to a passage in Matthew just randomely, and eventually I stumbled in my reading that night, onto this passage;
"Then they brought him a demon-possessed man who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him, so that he could both talk and see. All the people were astonished and said, "Could this be the Son of David?" - But when the Pharisees heard this, they said, "It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons." - Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them, "Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand. If Satan drives out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then can his kingdom stand? And if I drive out demons by Beelzebub, by whom do your people drive them out? So then, they will be your judges. But if I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you." ~ Matthew 12:22-28

Once again, I was met with pause, and a voice. That whisper this time seemed to me to say "This is how you know that I am the Son of David, and he is not." I thought this odd, and I analyzed the passage at hand. Then it dawned on me - no false prophet would be able to show this authority in their ministry, that they should cast out demons from people. I connected this because my understanding was that false prophets who were sent into the world, were in some form or other, of the spirit of the anti-Christ. This conclusion I had come to, however, about no prophet being able to cast out demons, didn't appeal to me much at all, as it seemed to me to require more faith then I was already practicing. I wondered 'if Satan knows this, why would he not allow this as some form of strategic move to defy what was indirectly being proclaimed?' Or even still, why wouldn't a false prophet simply pretend to do this, if they knew of the passage, in defiance of the Christian scriptures? If they could pretend that they were doing such a thing, then how is such a 'revelation' a sign at all, and how could it help me? I began to think myself mad. That this whisper may in fact have been just a psychological response to my search for a sign, which took form in an expression which was reinforced in the text. To this day, I do not know, of course. However, at that time, I was quite put out because of my ordeal, and I simply tried to imagine it away, and swayed from being sorry for my false interpretation of what I had felt, and rejecting the idea that God had done me any kind of a favour.

Not too long after this, however, I was caught up in discussion with a Muslim friend of mine at school, and not yet having a substantial knowledge of Islam (having thought that surely Mohammad had cast out demons as well in his ministry, and/or done great miraculous signs), I passively asked the question 'can you direct me to passages which say that mohammad casted out demons?' My Muslim friend was taken aback at my question, and asked me to repeat it, trying to understand what I was getting at. However, he informed me that he knew of no such passages, and that he was not, himself, aware of any event in the life of the prophet. After this event I prayed thanking God for what he had given me as what I recognized now to be a sign and asking for forgiveness for my initial reaction, and I was now more strengthened in my faith.

It was sometime after this, while sitting in church Sunday morning, that I happened upon Isaiah 9:6. This obscure Old Testament passage brought to me an uplifting confidence I cannot adequately describe. It simply read;
"For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." ~ Isaiah 9:6

At the time, I understood little of the passage's surrounding context, as it, along with most of the Old Testament Prophets, remained shrouded in mystery to me. I would usually not pick up on the meaning of their nuanced sayings, having not really understood their context or purpose. That passage, however, I understood! I felt as though I had stumbled upon something miraculous, and was at once frustrated that nobody had yet thought to show this to me! Here was a passage from what I thought to be a writing of approximately 700 BC, which so clearly and adequately spoke about the Messiah. It was around this time that I really became confident beyond doubt in my faith, resting my foundation on such passages. From this point on, I continued to find passages which I understood to testify about Christ, from the Old Testament. Each of these, I treated in my heart as some sort of great treasure rarely stumbled upon, and they brought to me confidence and reassurance in my faith.

Now, it was around this period that I happened to fall in love with a particular, and particularly interesting, Muslim girl. I make mention of this because it actually is relevant to how I proceeded in my faith from this point. It was my final year of high school, and my time in that whole area was coming to a close, as it was extremely far from home, and without reason to venture out there, I surely would not, and of course, that would mean my last chance to see her was drawing ever closer. I eventually worked up the courage to tell her how I felt, but my faith and the expression of it wasn't put to the side; rather, it was amplified in great thanks both to circumstance or happenstance and to her curiosity, or at least open mindedness. I had taken her, with a friend, to see the passion of the Christ in theaters when it came out, and we had then by chance been found to have time to talk about it. I presented to both of them my faith, and opened myself up to questions they may have (after all, I had by now done a good job about seeking out the answers to questions concerning faith). This made my faith probably more real and beautiful to me than it had ever been. Unfortunately she did not see in me what I saw in her, and thus ultimately turned me down, which was acceptable and understandable to me yet somehow more emotionally straining than anything I had ever gone through. However, my emotional experience had eventually become my passion to see Muslims come to Christ. I was already quite the apologist, if I do say so myself, and I eagerly plowed through John Gilchrist's work "Facing the Muslim Challenge", soaking it up, along with others such as articles from www.the-good-way.com, a "Dear Abdallah" pamphlet, and "Reaching Muslims for Christ - William J. Saal". The compelling force for confidence I felt I had found in this Christian-Muslim exchange led me to become more pious and zealous in my faith than ever before.

Now it is worthy to note at this point something else which does not appear on the face of it to have direct relevance, but again has significance as it helped create who I was becoming, and how I was willing to express my faith. I had begun to frequent a Christian outreach center called "The Vault" (which I sometime around this period joined as staff once a week for the night open to the College and Career crowd.) Here I had become closer and closer friends with somebody whose friendship I still hold dear to this day. Troy had, in a sense, rescued me from more than I think he ever realized. I still recall that night after we had finished up at the vault, and at around 12:30, had gone to Tim Horton's for coffee and chit chat before we headed home, when he said that he and Sarah (his girlfriend, or girlfriend to be) decided that I was a pretty interesting fellow, and probably worth his time of day. I was simultaneously flattered, and horrified. He decided that he wanted to spend time with me just hanging out. Now, it may not seem apparent why this would scare me to death, which it did. Up to this point, all the friends I had known and had, were friends of convenience. Friends I knew through the medium of school or youth group, or some other social engagement. I had become more comfortable expressing myself in a social context, but I was still very much recluse as far as how much emotional weight I would allow myself to risk putting into any friendship. This, however, was abnormal. It was a trespass into my "bubble" far beyond the parameters I had grown accustomed to. It made me uneasy to think, "what if I'm not good enough" or "what should happen if he, giving me the time of day, decides he had been better off not having done so?" If that were to happen, then surely my life told me there was definitely something wrong about me. Something far too abhorrent about me for me to deny or ignore. I still recall the first time he came over, and partially in response to my fear of running out of anything to say to entertain him, which, I thought, would surely devolve the situation to a point of social awkwardness, we watched the Lord of the Rings. It was this time in my life, however, that the bubble I was use to was broken, and my confidence in my own self worth was rekindled. I became little by little, more outspoken, calm, active, and generally confident. This played a huge role, I think, in how I went on to practice my faith.

I eventually made it to Cegep, which is the very odd Quebec equivalent to College, and was immediately drawn towards the Christian Fellowship, where I already knew so many people from my Church. It didn't take long for me to become involved, and even before I became an executive in charge of the clubroom, many people had taken to mistakenly identifying me as such. It was probably around this time that I was considering baptism at my church. Previously I had come to the conclusion (and I was quite stubborn) that one could not be saved until first receiving Baptism, and the church would not Baptize me until I agreed with their understanding of it after having taken their 'class' on it. Of course, their class did not present, in my estimation, convincing apologetic material for their position. However, there was a greater contention I had with my own baptism. The question about my "being saved". I simply had not felt any joy as others would vividly describe it in their lives, and in my heart, I felt I was surely not right with God. It felt, on the spiritual end, as though no matter what I did, my walk was without substance, or at least, it lacked undeniably apparent substance. Also, I felt that my understanding of baptism was that it was a commitment towards Christ, and an oath to live a life dedicated to him, and reflective of the Gospel. Somehow, I simply didn't feel that I could possibly be ready to commit to such a thing, as I was not convinced that I would take all measures to cease sinning. In fact, the passages in Hebrews 6, and 10, didn't just give me pause, they scared the hell out of me. Eventually, however, I did recognize my mistake in interpreting baptism theologically, and I commit myself in Baptism on Halloween (which I thought quite a fitting date simply because of it's outlandish abnormality, which suited me just fine), at 18 years of age. I told my testimony to a large congregation that day, and although everyone else being baptized on the same day chose a verse about love, or baptism, as their "verse", I explained that it was nice of everyone to come, but I couldn't care less about convention, and I chose the verse from Isaiah 9:6-7.

I eventually took up a position of responsibility within the club on campus, and got the chance to give Bible studies, and tackle more engaging questions still. I also became engaged actively in apologetics and evangelism outside of being staff at the Vault, and an exec of the Christian Fellowship. I began to do outreach to Muslims on campus, which resulted in my befriending of the Muslim Student Association. They also reflected a mutually eager attitude towards me, as I had expressed to them that I was very adamantly Christian, but wanted to know more about Islam, and though I wanted to try to convince them of my beliefs, I wanted them, in turn, to present to me what they believed and why. It was a very fruitful exchange, which bread not an insignificant number of friendships. I would often be welcomed into their clubroom, and invited to various events on campus, including prayer sessions and sort of quasi-sermons they would have on Fridays. They, for their part, however, were not made as comfortable in the Christian climate, as the club's supporting ministry had forewarned me not to engage in debate with Muslims.

This Period of my life, with evangelism towards Muslims, was a time when I felt there was really true substance to my faith and in my life. It felt rich and beautiful.

It was in this period too that my interactions with my Muslim friends had challenged me to really know my faith through and through, from beginning to end. I recall reading my Qur'an at the same time as reading "A general introduction to the Bible - Norman L. Geisler & William E. Nix". It was when one particularly brilliant Muslim had brought up the issue of copiest errors being in evidence for the New Testament manuscripts, having presented me with a level of evidence I had not yet been exposed to and was not familiar with that, in searching for some answers and information, I stumbled upon the Early Church Fathers. As Geisler and Nix point out in their book, the Church Fathers before Nicea had managed to quote, cite, and/or allude to in their writings, the New Testament, over 32,000 times. I was met with some dazzling wonder about these characters who I had somehow not heard about until that point. The names Justin Martyr and Augustine and Clement just were not in my religious vocabulary.

Eventually I was able to acquire their writings through a computer program called "e-Sword", and I dove in. I also started seeking for Church father material which was not confined to that very early period, and stumbled first upon the writings of Eusebius Pamphili of Caesarea. Particularly amplifying for my faith, were the first three volumes of his "Demonstratio Evangelica" which brought to light even more prophetic passages, and what I felt was strong testimony in favour of the Christian Faith, as his presentation was more than compelling. I went on to find what I understood to be significant testimony, and/or uplifting wisdom, in such sources as the Dead Sea Scrolls {particularly 11Q13; 4Q410, 4Q412-413, 4Q415-421, 4Q423, 1Q26; 4Q369; 4Q521; 4Q175; 1QSa, 1Q28a; 4Q534-536; 4Q541; among others}.


It was around this time when I had begun to engage in intellectual debate online through forums. I spent a good deal of my time on a particular forum called "Perspectives" where I met some of the oddest and most interesting characters I've ever met in one place. There was a Jewish Christian Kabbalist whose insights I greatly grew to appreciate; an atheist with the same age, attitude, and zeal for truth, as I; an x-Mormon who was incredibly articulate and intelligent; a Physicist who was anti-religious, but had come to a particularly interesting position about his metaphysics; a Muslim who was firm in his faith, and yet rejected what he saw as fundamentalism in approaching the Qur'an and his whole faith; A minister in the UK who declared himself Christian all while denying many of the fundamentals of the faith (such as scripture not being evil rubbish); An x-pentecostal and now devout Roman Catholic, and many other interesting people. It was in my time here, and at this time in my life, that I was given pause about my faith more than once, having no answer to produce to particularly difficult questions I had never even dreamed existed. Up to this point, I had an empirical epistemology. True to my age, I actually had come to think that I clearly had all the answers, and had, as of yet, received no really weighty case opposing my position. It was at this point that such cases began to emerge and make themselves known to me, or I to them.

I began to recognize that the world wasn't as simple and straight forward as I had believed. Whereas I had been convinced that the weight of evidence was obviously in favour of Christianity, I now realized that I had not critically enough examined all the evidence or arguments at hand. This was a time of real intellectual growth for me, and though exciting in many ways, it was also very challenging to my faith. Being an Empiricist (though unwittingly having not yet been exposed to the idea that there are different epistemological positions one might take, this being one of them), my mind required me to have proof, or else extremely weighty evidence, in order for something to deserve belief. This process was made all the more difficult because at this point in my life, my struggle in faith fed my depression which was growing. It's growth was a result of many things in my life which weren't going as I would have liked, including my academic life, and most importantly, my spiritual life became a mess as I developed a dirty sinful habit, which fed my depression and my insecurities about faith. It was quite the vicious cycle, and though I became more and more recluse about my faith, I continued to express my faith strongly in my personal life, and in the ministries I was involved with. I wondered, however, how I could consider myself pious, if I were preaching to others something as certain, which I was no longer "certain" about? How hypocritical would it be of me, I thought, to require somebody else to come to faith by the weight of evidence {which is exactly how I preached}, when I myself was no longer convinced of it beyond any reasonable doubt. I wondered how and why God would have left reasonable doubt at all, if the issue was as pressing as eternal salvation and damnation, and he truly was omnipotent and omniscient.

At this point in my life, I expressed myself in these terms;
"utterly exhausted... wait, this isn't my fuel I'm running on..... Drunk on sin.. shameful tears... who's hand is this helping me?"

As I tried to work out my faith, on the one hand standing as an example for all of those who recognized me to be a firm Christian who was loving and wise, and on the other hand being tormented in my personal life by ever more perplexing questions, I eventually began to shirk a little bit from my responsibilities in ministry. I could not at once declare that I was not fit for the position anymore because of my doubt or personal life, because that had the potential to shatter the faith of quite a few people. On the other hand, I felt I could not feel justified in leading a Bible study, or being any sort of a spiritual adviser. I myself was in need of somebody to advise me! However, it seemed that I had come to such a level that people like that were terribly difficult to find. As most of my Muslim friends graduated from College in the same year, I was left with little to no incentive to seek out new Muslims with whom I could share my faith. Indeed, I felt I should rather be sure of my faith before I attempt to share it apologetically. What was once certain, was now not. The reasonings of C.S. Lewis and the apologetics of Josh McDowell were simply rendered insufficient, if not deceivingly naive.


I was met with such challenge to my faith at times that (although many continued to identify me as a firm apologist) it felt like my entire epistemology had been turned on it's head, or better yet, had dissipated into vapour. What once seemed so solid a foundation even after so many years of my scrutiny, had now become completely transparent and empty. Intellectually my faith felt as though it was standing upon the very ledge of a high building, ready to plunge to it's demise at any instigation, and spiritually my faith had yield no fruit of any kind for too long to bear. It is as though my heart, now, had stopped bleeding from my ever growing depression, and was done.

The once encouraging words of Justin Martyr, which once I took such pleasure and root in -;
"I shall prove to you as you stand here that we have not believed empty fables, or words without any foundation but words filled with the spirit of God, and big with power, and flourishing with grace." ~ Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, Chapter 9
"Reason directs those who are truly pious and philosophical to honour and love only what is true, declining to follow traditional opinions, if these be worthless." ~ Justin Martyr, First Apology, Chapter 2

- had now come to appear naive if not suggestive of abandoning faith. Instead, It seemed to me that the lyrics from Thrice were more adequate reflections of my thoughts;

"See the parts but not the whole, studied saints and scholars both, but no perfect plan unfurls. Do I trust my heart or just my mind, and why is truth so hard to find in this world?" ~Stare into the Sun
"Could it be you're really here? Because my eyes are open.... but things can't be as they seem, I'm so far from hope, this must be another dream, but my eyes are open." ~ Atlantic


It was at this time that I had come to fear emotional conviction, suspecting it of being misleading and perhaps naive, and potentially intellectually clouding. How could I pray to become confident again and trust that confidence at all, if prayer had become my ritual, through classical psychological conditioning, for becoming confident in my faith? In fact, how could I worship and not taste the bitterness of hypocrisy as I exclaimed at great volume proclamations I had now come to doubt? The once trivial waking in the morning and adorning a cross around my neck had now become the instigation of insecurities. To what extent, if any, could I possibly trust my subjective experience? How, though, could I not begin asserting my metaphysics without first recognizing what only my subjective experience could attest to? How was I to reformulate a paradigm, and with which axioms of belief should I be best able to understand the world?

At this point, I began to reinterpret reality, and was really shot into the realm of philosophy. The names of Descartes, Kant, and Hume, now seemed as new to my vocabulary as the Church Fathers had once been. In addition, I brought myself more or less up to date on where the discussion between the intellectual forces in the world of academia is at today. Names such as Christopher Hitchens, Alister McGrath, Daniel Dennet, N.T. Wright, Howard J. Van Till, became more familiar to me, and I welcomed my new intellectual dimension of growth.

It dawned on me that faith must be presupposed as an axiom of belief, or at least that, to become attainable, it must be feasible given a set of axioms of belief. The exchange between Justin Martyr and the first Christian he ever met came back to me, and it seemed the old man's conclusion seemed to become more feasible to me. What once seemed intellectually suicidal, now seemed like what may be sound advise.
"“‘How then,’ he said, ‘should the philosophers judge correctly about God, or speak any truth, when they have no knowledge of Him, having neither seen Him at any time, nor heard Him?’ - “‘But, father,’ said I, ‘the Deity cannot be seen merely by the eyes, as other living beings can, but is discernible to the mind alone, as Plato says; and I believe him.’ -
“‘Is there then,’ says he, ‘such and so great power in our mind? Or can a man not perceive by sense sooner? Will the mind of man see God at any time, if it is uninstructed by the Holy Spirit?’" ~ Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, Chapter 3-4

And thus we come to me as I am today. I harbour a gently glowing flame, which though I feared would quickly burn out, has somehow survived the test of time. This, somehow, provides me a level of confidence, that I am somehow still on to something, all while prompting the question of how stubborn I may be being about "correction". I feel as though I may yet end up where I began, having had the pieces all along, and simply having not put them together right.

So I remain challenged in my faith, and I have questions which I am constantly in the process of working out. I am trying also to allow myself to not fear, so much, to sense by instinct, what is right, and what is wrong, and to engage the forces that be (if indeed they be), emotionally. Prayer remains for me a perplexing paradox which I am ever on guard about. However, I have come to wonder if sin and impiety, and not emotion, is in fact the intoxicating element; that thing which truly clouds judgment.

My greatest fear, in all of this, remains anathema. I've come to truly recognize and Identify with a passage I had once, when younger and much more naive, thought obscure and opaque;

"Work out your Salvation, with fear and trembling" ~ Philippians 2:12

However, through this process and period of growth, my ideas about faith and Christianity have taken some interesting turns, and I've come to some conclusions about things which many others would likely gasp at the very suggestion of. Always, I remain very fearful of having somehow fled orthodoxy, and I remain (in the spirit of an honest quest for truth) extremely open to ideas and arguments, and extremely critical of them. At many times I've been accused of being Liberal, and at others I've been treated as an intellectual inferior because of my religious convictions. I feel as though I am swaying to and fro, as a great ship amidst a greater storm. One day feeling as though my faith were a serene garden, growing great fruits, and the next, feeling it was more of a wasteland than a garden at all.

And so, now you know where I am coming from personally. I cannot tell what I will or will not become, but my aim remains the same; To study Theology, and make as much sense of this life as possible, in this search for truth. Whether I may end up a strong agnostic, or a great Christian theologian, I cannot say. Either way, my feet have too many scars to show to stop walking, and there are too many pieces to this unsolved puzzle to throw away.


"I know there must be something more, if I could only find the door, then I could free myself and see the world outside. Where daylight, breaks anew and shines into this gray that seeps beneath your skull, daylight breaks anew and burns away the gray that suffocates your soul. Now I hold the key, though I may be lost, I know that I will find my way. I search endlessly but every time I thought that I was near, the smoke and mirrors led me astray..." ~ Thrice; Between the End and where we lie