I have always felt like I am on the edge of something new. Pushing the limits and boundaries of my knowledge and understanding. My parents fostered that desire for knowledge and taught me to think for myself and critically evaluate information I encountered. I applied those skills voraciously to academics and spirituality; continually yearning for intellectual stimulation, facts to ponder, boundaries to push; questing for knowledge. That quest has manifested itself in both my intellectual and spiritual life, which is not the most satisfying of locales to have a constant flux of questioning and exploring.
I grew up in a moderately conservative Evangelical Christian home, and my church family always talked about me as a leader, bound to do great things to further God’s Kingdom. At three years old my Sunday school teacher told my mom I was great at praying or that I was destined to be a church leader or something one day. When I was six, I asked around and found out that you did not literally have to pick up a cross and follow Jesus to death on a cross to be a Christian. In light of that new revelation, I decided to accept Jesus into my heart, with the stipulation that my dad, and not the pastor, would baptize me.
In grade school, I was homeschooled from 1st through 6th grade because in my family's circle of friends that is what most everybody did. The Dads worked solid middle-class jobs, and the moms taught their kids the four “R’s”: reading, ‘riting, ‘rithmatic, and religion. We went to a homeschool co-op and once attended a Creationism lecture to learn how to combat the evolutionists and atheists. While not the full-blown jean jumper and dress wearing only types, we knew some who were.
In sixth grade, I was introduced to apologetics and Answers in Genesis (Ken Ham). We studied the book of Revelation, called our 6th grade Sunday school graduation party Rapture Night, watched Left Behind, and waited to see if Jesus was going to take us up into the sky before the tribulations began. I wanted to taste the scroll that John ate and thought about asking God to try one when I got to heaven.
Throughout middle school and high school, I frequently bemoaned the perceived spiritual immaturity, theological unsophistication and lack of intellectual rigor of my peers. In my opinion, they did not take God or church seriously enough. Always a full-throttle type of person, I did nothing half-way (except my chores, sorry mom). If God wanted our best, I thought to myself, then why were so many churchgoers so lackluster in their commitment to Him? I was a fundamentalist of sorts; I had my unwavering attachment to a set of irreducible beliefs. I was concerned with knowing the what and why of my beliefs; eschewing wishy-washy ambiguity. The problem I perpetually felt was that the last piece of knowledge to complete the puzzle, to answer the hard questions about God and the nature of reality, was always behind the next intellectual horizon.
The search for the remaining puzzle pieces led me to conferences and camps. Riding the spiritual highs, repenting of sins, and perpetually promising to have more “quiet time” and read my Bible. In the summer before Tenth Grade I had a profound spiritual experience on a mission trip to Mexico that revealed my arrogance and shaped my understanding of Christianity. The following is how 16-year-old Ethan described the event for a memoir assignment in Tenth grade English class.
I remember my youth pastor asking: what is our number one job as Christians? This question stopped me in my tracks, I had gone to church my whole life and had accepted Jesus and been baptized when I was six. I thought I knew most of the answers, but after hearing such a simple question about what I believed and not being able to find an answer was unsettling to me. So I thought a minute and contrived a reply that sounded something like: the number one job for a Christian is for us to minister to others and share the gospel with them so that we can bring them to Christ. I looked at my youth pastor hoping that I had said the right thing, but something inside of me told me I was wrong and the look on my youth pastor’s face confirmed the doubt in my mind. He then said to me that I had part of the answer, but I was missing a big part. He then showed me Matthew 22:37 which says, ''Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.'' He then went and explained that you have to love God more than anything else first before you can do any of the other things that I mentioned in my answer. That is the moment that changed my life. The answer had been right in front of me the whole time! I had read the same passage before several different times but never stopped to consider what the verse actually meant. Once I heard this, I felt like I had been given a piece of valuable information that could change my life and the world forever.
I was so caught up with trying to be right and believe the right things and convince others that I knew what I was talking about; I had missed a central point of the message Jesus had come to give. I was neglecting my relationship with God because I was busy running around telling others they needed to do a better job of loving God. I had made the salvation of others my primary concern due to the fear of God's wrath. This new lesson took a while to take hold even after my trip as evidenced by a biographical poem I wrote for that same English class several months after going on a mission trip to Mexico
Ethan
Joyful, smart, interesting
Best friend of David
Who feels bored with school, tired from reading, ready for track to start
Who fears the unknown, fear itself, and God's wrath
Who would like driver’s Ed to be over, more hours in a day, and the ability to spell
Resident of the North and Western Hemispheres
Miller
Grappling with the implications of God's wrath and how to love Him more coincided with my change of schools from public to a private Christian school. The transition was an opportunity to learn more about God, try and make some friends, and most importantly, get more playing time on the Football field.
At my new school, I encountered a more intense version of dogmatism and unrelenting orthodoxy than I had seen before. The lens through which the institution seemed to view the world was black and white, “we are right, come join our side, leave your foolishness or face God's wrath.” At times I was drawn to the sirens’ song of certainty, predestination, original sin, and substitutionary atonement. However, the paradigm shift I had experienced that past summer had shown me the dangers of putting too much stock in one perspective. The message I received seemed to condescend and condemn other denominations who differed in areas of practice and belief. Not a fan of their exclusionary teachings, I thought to myself, What about people who had never heard the Gospel? Were they destined to hell as objects of God's Wrath? What about people who hold different beliefs within Christianity, the Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, or Pentecostals? On top of this was their adherence to biblical inerrancy amidst the ambiguity and inconsistencies of scripture. My Bible class taught me that these differences did not exist and Genesis was literal, no Hebrew poetry allowed. These teachings led to more questions than answers.
After two years at my new school, I realized that I was not going to be a Football phenom or track star. The rituals and rules of high school were holding me back, and it was time to move on to some free college via Running Start at the local community college.
It was not until my second year at community college that the next step in my spiritual journey took place. I joined a small group started by our church for college-age young adults. Being a part of that group shifted my focus from developing my personal relationship with Jesus to building a community centered on Christ. I encountered the life-changing experience of being part of a tight-knit spiritual community for the first time, full of people growing and supporting each other towards a common goal. We were serious about growing in our relationship with God (and cute girls/guys). At peace with the tension between faith and doubt, I felt that I had found a spiritual home. I knew my place and role at last after feeling like an outsider throughout high school. Feeling more secure and at home than ever before, I was energized to fling myself into a new adventure in a strange and distant land.
That new adventure was University, and I chose a Christian Liberal Arts University in Southern California for the place of my new adventure. This choice afforded me an opportunity to learn more about the bible, finish my undergrad in History, and gain a little independence from my family. At university, I encountered a new way to look at scripture; Historical Biblical Criticism, it challenged my faith and understanding of God more than anything before. The alarm bells started gently ringing in the back of my head. Which books of the New Testament were/were not written by Paul? Did the Israelites have to commit Canaanite genocide? Was the genocide ordered by God? Who actually killed Goliath? What are the moral and ethical implication of a triple Omni God who commanded his people to do such reprehensible acts? All of these questions and consideration were new to me.
From studying history and literature I was aware that old texts are complicated and open to many interpretations. But I did not think that applied to the bible too. I grew up being taught that the Bible was the inerrant, infallible, inspired word of God, not just some ancient religious text like other religions use that are full of errors. My studies led me to question the literalness with which scripture should be interpreted and the authorship of many books. I also saw how many different opinions were out there about the Bible, what it meant, and who wrote it.
While my belief in the bible was going through a major shakeup, my faith and Christian community were stronger than ever. The same people who shook my faith to its core were also the ones demonstrating amazing care and concern for their students. It was the passionate, brilliant, and caring professors whose quality of scholarship and intellect was matched by their faith in God who guided me through this new phase of faith. Their dedication to wrestling with ideas of truth, justice, and the Bible was reassuring. I had never met Christians like this before who were accepting of differences in faith and belief, scientific in their study, and devoted to their faith. They prepared me for the tough questions that would both destroy and rebuild my faith. I had shed my certainty and learned to be open and listen to other perspectives and not just bang my own drum. But what was I to do with all this new knowledge? Was I becoming a New Kind of Christian? What did that even mean? What was my role in furthering God's kingdom? How did one love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and strength? Questions multiplied with every class period, lunch break Table talk with professors, and late night chats with the roommates. After two years all I knew was that I had more questions, fewer answers, and a greater desire to pursue my faith journey than ever before.
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