An Agnostic's Encounter With God

BY ARLENE HARDER, MA, MFT

This personal story describes the gradual movement from religious faith to agnosticism to spiritual awareness.

Page One of Two Pages

Exploring What the Word "God" Means

I was a preacher's kid. Raised in the Lutheran church, I belonged to Luther League when I was a teenager, attended the fine Lutheran college of Wittenberg in Ohio, and came to California as a parish worker for a Lutheran church. My first two children were baptized in that church. But like a number of preacher's kids I've known, I left the church in which I was raised.

By the time our twins were born I had begun questioning the precepts on which my beliefs were based. It started with trying to understand just what people meant when they referred to God. I knew it wasn't possible to get my mind around the concept of an all-powerful, all-encompassing, ever-present being, whether one called it "God" or some other name. But I tried.

I thought of the verse in Genesis which said that man was created in the image of God. Well, I reasoned, if man was made in God's image, then I should be able to look at man and get an idea of what God was like. After all, if we say a child (of any species) looks like his parents, we have some idea of what the parents look like. Of course, I didn't believe God had a physical form, but perhaps I could explore the qualities of humankind and discover something about God's qualities.

That's when I ran into a problem. At least it was a problem for me. Although the Lutheran church doesn't focus on hell and damnation, I had always been told that I needed to believe in Jesus in order to be "saved." Being saved meant avoiding hell. But what does hell say about the loving qualities of God if such a Being assigns someone to spend eternity in pain and suffering? What kind of parent would do that just because his child didn't have the opportunity to hear the message of a book called a bible, to interpret scripture in a certain way, and then to decide that Christianity was the only way to avoid that fate?

To my way of thinking, such a God was very unlike the people I knew. I had never heard of anyone, except perhaps someone who was certifiably crazy, who would force a child they had lovingly created to spend endless time in misery. We humans might — in great frustration over a child's poor decisions or even for some petty, egotistical reason — cut a child out of our will. But we wouldn't make them suffer as the "God of love" apparently wanted people to suffer, at least according to a prominent interpretation of the bible.

No, I decided, I couldn't believe in such a God. At least I couldn't believe in hell. And if I didn't believe I needed Jesus to save me from hell, what was my reason for continuing to be a member of a church whose creed affirmed that belief? Nevertheless, I recognized that following the basic teachings of Jesus could contribute toward making a person loving and kind. However, believing in a historical Jesus was not essential to leading a life of great loving kindness.

So I left the Lutheran church and for a time joined the Unitarians. Later I discovered that's what happens to many people who leave the traditional, more formal churches in which they grew up, but who still enjoy connection with others who enjoy exploring life's deeper meaning. The Unitarians seem to function as a "decompression chamber." Since that church didn't preach about a judgment of heaven or hell, I fit in.

That is, I fit in for a time. After a couple years I wasn't as interested as I had been and gradually drifted away. I knew what I didn't believe, but was very unsure of what I did believe, especially concerning experiences people claimed came from some kind of spiritual realm. Just because someone said they saw auras, or felt "led by the Spirit," or were guided by an angel, etc. didn't mean it was true. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it wasn't. There was no direct evidence I could see and simple faith wasn't solid enough for me.

I will admit that people with deep unquestioning faith had a sureness of which I was somewhat jealous. It would be wonderful, I thought, if I could simply say, "I believe!." I couldn't. I had been taught that faith is a gift of grace. Well, apparently "God" or "grace" wasn't inclined to give me faith, because I sure didn't have it.

On the other hand, the reasoning of my mind, a mind that "God" supposedly did give me when He, She, or It created me with a brain, prevented me from accepting something that others claimed was "right." What made it even more confusing was the fact that the world was filled with a multitude of religions, each claiming to be the "right" one. If God wanted his creation to believe in Him in only one way, he could have done a darn better job of making it clear which particular path people should follow.

Every once-in-awhile I would sit quietly and pray to "whatever" (I didn't use the term "God" because I sure didn't know what that meant). I would ask this "something" if I should believe in Jesus (or in any other particular form of religion) and the answer I sensed in my heart always seemed to be something along the lines of, "No, you don't need to believe in Jesus to be okay. One day you'll figure out what's right for you."

There are those who will say I didn't get the answer THEY think I should have gotten because I (A) didn't pray correctly, (B) didn't listen correctly, (C) didn't pray long enough, (D) didn't listen long enough, or (E) shouldn't have trusted myself to find the answer. I needed a more experienced person to guide me. But by doing it my way I was following the advice I would later hear from Sam Keen, author, psychologist, and philosopher, in Hymns to an Unknown God: Awakening The Spirit In Everyday Life.

It seems improbable to me that God would have whispered the meaning of my life into the ear of some guru or authority. Likely, my best chance to hear the still, small voice is to listen carefully for a sacred echo in the voices and silences that resound within my mind, my body, my heart.

I hadn't yet figured out how to listen to sounds within my own mind, body, and heart and I was as skeptical of anyone who claimed they alone had the answer to life's perplexing questions — especially if they were referred to as a "guru." They were as much a barrier to creating a spiritual foundation for my life as were those you claimed they knew what "God" wanted me to do.

Consequently, when someone would ask if I believed in God, I would usually say "yes" just to avoid a long discussion on why I wasn't saved and how I needed to follow their brand of religion. Even more, I avoided going to any seminar where a guy in white flowing robes spouted simplistic platitudes.

Although always questioning authorities and figuring out things for myself has caused numerous problems, that's my modus operandi. I'm not well suited to following what someone else tells me is true.

Preparing a Path for Spirit to Enter

Without benefit of church or faith, for many years I focused on raising my family. Along the way I ran into many problems that perfectionists like myself tend to create in their lives and went through lots of therapy, both individual therapy and a variety of growth groups, all of which helped me deal with my issues of control and low self-esteem.

However, it was especially when I studied Psychosynthesis, a holistic approach to human growth and development, that the seeds of a spiritual experience were planted. This school of psychology was developed in the middle of the last century by the Italian psychiatrist Roberto Assogioli. And since the term "psychosynthesis" refers to the "psyche" or self and to "synthesis" or integration, you might say it is a method for getting your act together or integrating the self.

Here is how Eva Fugitt, teacher and author of He Hit Me Back First!, describes it:

Psychosynthesis is a creative approach to the harmonious integration of the whole personality — the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual aspects of one's self. Utilizing the will, intuition, and creative imagination, Psychosynthesis aims to develop within each person an awareness of that deep center which brings these various parts into the unity of wholeness. This awareness is gradually brought into consciousness through a series of techniques, including imagery and visualization, designed to achieve harmony and synthesis within a person and between the person and her surroundings. Psychosynthesis, then, is a process of connecting with the Self — the core of our being — so that it can direct our life and relationships with joy and wisdom.

During three years studying Psychosynthsis I was able to gradually lay the foundation for a sense of spirit in my life in three important ways.

Higher Qualities

Assogioli places a great deal of significance on what he calls the "Higher Qualities" — love, patience, forgiveness, generosity, serenity, etc. Whether I thought of these as simply qualities of the "human" spirit or as "spiritual" qualities didn't matter. Practicing them in my own life, and teaching clients how to use them when dealing with their problems, worked. Things got better with less effort when I kept a particular quality in mind. (See Essential Qualities of the Human Spirit.)

Higher Self

Another way Psychosynthesis prepared me for a spiritual awakening was through the concept of a "Higher Self," which can be conceptualized in several ways. For example, it can be viewed as an interface between rational, "provable" knowledge (arising from the left brain) and intuitive sources of knowing that lie beneath the surface (and seem to be located in the right brain). One method of calling upon this source of intuition is by imagining we have an "inner advisor," although over the centuries this capacity of the mind has been called many names: holy spirit, inner guide, caring inner friend, personal shaman, wise figure, internal professor, guardian angel, spirit guide, inner physician, objective inner observer.

When I wanted to get in touch with this source of inner knowing, I would frequently imagine I was sitting on a stone bench in a garden where a dense fog had settled around me. (This image isn't something I deliberate created. It simply arose out of some place from deep within my inner landscape.) I sensed that all I could do was wait for my unconscious to reveal some bit of information that would be helpful for my life at that moment. It didn't help to be impatient. I learned to be receptive, a skill that was difficult at first to achieve because I wanted to do it "right" and intuitive insights don't seem to arise when they are being forced.

Perhaps a believer in God might say about such insights that, "I can hear God telling my heart to do such-and-such." But I liked using the word "intuition" to identify the source of inner wisdom, of understanding the synthesis or essence of a situation. And since intuition seems to come from the right brain, I realized they were ideas and images that were able to bypass the sometimes overly harsh critical judgment of my left brain.

More and more I counted on my intuition to develop my creativity and guide my writing. As Jonas Salk once said, "It is always with excitement that I wake up in the morning, wondering what my intuition will toss up to me like gifts from the sea. I work with it, I rely on it, it's my partner." I would point out, of course, that we need to use our rational processes to evaluate intuitive ideas. If our intuition tells us to sell everything and join a cult or leave the kids and move to an island in the South Pacific, we'd better step back and analyze what's behind it all.

The "Higher Self" can also be seen as the connection between the experience of a self within its internal boundaries and a "Universal Consciousness" that exists outside oneself. Many years earlier, when I still believed in God, I imagined He was somewhere "out there," outside of me, like an old guy sitting on a cloud watching the parade of human history and observing the mess we'd made of his world. The idea of a "God within" was a foreign concept. But if there is a God, I thought, there needs to be a mechanism within a person that allows that individual to get in touch with Him (or Her or It). The concept of a Higher Self seemed a good theory for how a supreme being could connect with people.

Subpersonalities

The third way Psychosynthesis opened the door to exploring the possibility of spirit was through techniques that helped me deal with parts of me that Assogioli calls "subpersonalities." These are the false selves within all of us that fight for control, usually out of our awareness. For example, one day we might be in touch with an internal critic who would have us believe we are always WRONG and can never do anything right. The next day, or even later that same day, something sets us off and the only emotion we can feel is anger, justifying our actions because we are RIGHT. And so it goes from day to day. We're like the unknown poet who said:

Within my earthly temple there's a crowd,

There's one of us that's humble, one that's proud,

There's one that's broken-hearted for his sins,

And one who, unrepentant, sits and grins.

There's one who loves his neighbor as himself,

And one who cares for naught but fame and self.

From much corroding care would I be free

If I could but determine which one is me.

In order to understand and manage my subpersonalities, I needed to first get in touch with the quiet center of my self (small s). Gradually I became more and more aware of that place within and frequently spent time in the morning for meditation. It was during these periods of quiet meditation that my soul finally opened to a genuine experience I recognized as spiritual.

An Agnostic's Encounter With God is CONTINUED on Page Two

© 2003 Arlene Harder, MA, MFT