To Answer Your Question: Part 7

“Does God Ever Die?”

Well, damn, I hope not.

I feel like, at this point, your questions shouldn’t feel so brutal. But, here we are. This is one of those spectacularly devastating aspects of parenting where you assume it will get easier, but it just breaks your heart more as you realize the control you have as a parent is really just smoke and mirrors.

You and I have tiptoed the topic of religion and church a few times by now. When your dad and I were separated, I took you a few times to a church that was very up and coming that year. It was close to our apartment, and we had several friends that went there. The problem is that the church was too big and modern for my personality. To sum it up quickly, I never felt comfortable leaving you alone with strangers in a Sunday school room, and I never felt comfortable leaving the nourishment of my soul up to someone in a graphic tee with Powerpoint light shows going on in the background. So, that was short lived.

Sometimes, we pass that church and you ask me why we don’t go there anymore. I usually tell you that it wasn’t a good fit for us. That’s the truth. But, the more elaborate truth is that I view your personality and soul as mutually exclusive and sacred aspects of who you are, and I simply refuse to let just any random person influence either of those things while I’m one of two adults in charge of you.

You’re six years old now, and we just lost my grandma to a long battle of Alzheimer’s. Months ago, I started laying the groundwork for this loss because I didn’t want it to traumatize you. I tried prepping you about how she was very sick and her body was tired, so eventually she would need to truly rest. I didn’t want you to be scared or shocked when it finally happened, so I tried to leave these subtle breadcrumbs for you that could help you come to this conclusion on your own naturally.

One day, earlier this summer, I told you that Grandma was so tired that her body was breaking down so she couldn’t respond to you if you tried to talk to her. You asked me if she was dying, and I said, “Yes, but it’s okay because she’s going to wrap up her time here with us and then start her time with God up in Heaven.”

Then, you called me on my shit and asked, “Does God ever die?”

In that moment, I emphatically told you no. I told you God exists in more ways than we can imagine.

Do I actually believe this? Yes.

Is this what I wanted to tell you that day? No.

My real answer would’ve been, “I don’t know, son. But, I sure as hell hope He does.”

Shortly after my grandma died, you asked me if I thought she was in Heaven yet. I said, “Yeah, I think she went there pretty quickly. What do you think?” And, then you explained to me about how you thought an angel came down and got her and helped her fly up. I told you I thought that sounded really cool and that I liked your idea a lot. As much as I wanted to simply hand you an answer to believe, it was just as important to me to help you foster your own ideas on the topic. I know that if I put too much emphasis on making you believe my thoughts, you might crash and burn when you grow up to realize I never knew entirely what I was talking about. As much as I want you to share my beliefs, I want you to trust your own beliefs, too. I want your personality and spirituality to be based on you and not solely on me or your father.

Life is going to deal you blows no matter what, and one of the hardest ones will be the day you realize your dad and I are clueless humans outside of being your parents. I’ve seen so many students crumble when they get to this point because every political or spiritual belief they thought was theirs was actually whatever they took from their parents without second thought. That’s not always a bad thing, but it can make for a confusing transition as you come into your own. I don’t want to set you up to do an explosive 180 when I know I can soften the transition by always offering you my thoughts in addition to promoting your own.

My thoughts on all things spiritual have run the gamut since I was in high school. Here’s the short end of that story:

My parents raised me in a Southern Baptist church from elementary school until high school. When I left to go to college, I started attending a non-denominational church in Memphis, and my family switched to a similar one back home in Clarksville. However, something in my personality shifted between high school and college. I went from being a leader in my youth group to an introvert that was easily distracted by my own frustration and disenchantment with intense graphics, worship concerts, and predominately white congregations. All of a sudden, I couldn’t concentrate. In college, I would attend church alone and often leave the service about 10 minutes early just to avoid the theatrics of the altar call and small talk with the congregation. I’m not proud of this, but I am being honest to paint a picture for you.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned I’m more introverted than I’d like to admit. When it comes to spirituality, I crave authenticity. This is a common theme in my life lately. For me, authenticity in this realm is quiet and sacred, so it makes sense that I would need a quieter worship setting. That’s when I found an Episcopalian church, and I realized how much comfort I found in liturgy and a serene setting.

The biggest takeaway here is that what is best for your spirit might not be what’s best for mine, and that’s okay. My parents find comfort in a very different church setting than what I do. Neither of us are wrong as long as we are participating in what feels authentic to our needs.

There are times when I don’t believe in God. I hate to admit that, but I’d rather admit that to you now than to ever let you live a single day thinking you might be the only one who ever has those doubts. How could it not be easy to doubt God’s existence while living in the world we have today?

There have been two times in my life when I sobbed alone in the shower because I felt so guilty for bringing you into a world that was so broken. But, what I’ve grown to realize is that the world has always been broken. It’s a secular world, so it always has been and always will be broken.

However, I need you to hear me when I say the strongest points in my life have been the seasons when I take the time to read my bible in the morning and when I have the courage to not only ask God for guidance but to also thank Him in advance for what I trust He will do to answer that prayer. Selah.

It’s very hard to remain consistent in those actions, but it has always been worth it. Every time I have actively called on God to help me (and believed), my life has changed. These moments have been so visceral for me. Sometimes, I get so far away from those actions, but then it’s never that hard to come back. It’s a choice that we all have, and it’s a choice I have to continue to make for myself.

I’ve gone through so many phases in terms of my spiritual beliefs. I led First Priority in middle school. I was an active participant and leader in my high school youth group. I became disenchanted in college as I learned truths that challenged my faith, and I landed in a very peculiar spot in my early 20s as a young wife and mother.

I never desperately needed to believe in God’s existence until you existed.

When I had you, I remember telling my best friends that if anything happened to you, I’m not sure I would survive it. You are an only child, so I don’t have another child to live for. I’m not sure I want to live in a world that doesn’t have a Mathias James Murphy, so I can’t confidently say I’d waste any time staying if something were to take you away.

This got me thinking about my belief in an afterlife, and it hit me like a ton of bricks: I need God to exist because my heart cannot fathom an existence (albeit right now or eternal life) without you. I can lose any friend, family member, or lover, but I cannot truthfully say that I’d ever survive a life without you in it.

I need God to exist so that I know you will always somehow exist in this life or the next. Even now, I feel the tears pool in my eyes as I type this and consider the alternatives. You are the most magical and fascinating thing I’ve ever been part of in my life, and if nothing else comes to fruition from my efforts, I know the life I’ve lived has not been in vain because you, my beautiful boy, exist.

Here are the things I want you to know at this point in my life at the ripe age of 33:

• Just because my preferences differ from my parents does not mean I’m not grateful for the way they raised me in the church. The boundaries and spiritual guidance they gave me helped me become who I am today. My parents made the best calls for me as they could at their age, and that’s exactly the same goal I’m trying to achieve with you now at my age.
• Worship can look multiple ways, and it’s okay if that changes throughout your life. Sometimes, my dad made us have church at home as a family. It felt weird at times, but I get it now. Where two or more are gathered is where God is in the midst of them.
• Sometimes, your heart may not want to go to church. That is okay, Mathias. I have often found peace and worship on long drives alone, at Port Royal, or in my room while reading in silence with a cup of coffee. I don’t believe in forcing it, and I don’t believe there’s productivity in killing yourself with guilt.
• It is natural to doubt your faith. If you had all the answers, there would be no room to experience all that God is and continues to be. Don’t fear the moments where you question your beliefs. Embrace them. Many religions, like Judaism, encourage the constant questioning of one’s faith. I wholeheartedly believe it takes more vulnerability and strength to admit you don’t have the answers to everything. I am okay with this being my life’s struggle. I have no interest in believing in a God that I think I fully understand. If I can fully understand it, then I can be it, and I take no comfort in putting that much faith into my own idiot self.
• There is credence in finding a life partner who is equally yolked.
• Your spiritual beliefs should always be rooted in your humanity. If someone convinces you that your religion should challenge your sense of humanity, they are wrong and you should reevaluate who you are keeping in your inner circle. There is no part of God that will ever lead you to go against your humanity. If something leads you against it, trust that it is not God at work.
• If you choose Christianity as your faith, know this: we are hardly ever called upon to truly act as Christians and, when we finally are, it is challenging. What I mean by that is, for the most part, it will be fairly easy to lead a Christian life in America. It will mostly be easy to do what’s right. But, there will be sparse, but significant, moments in your life that will require supreme patience, empathy, self control, and courage, and these are the moments that will truly call you to act as a Christian and love people as Jesus instructed. Right now in our culture, so many things have become polarized and I’ve noticed that people become most triggered when they feel their personal identities are being attacked or challenged. Truly loving people the way Jesus loves us means that you will have to put that empathy and love above whatever politicized identity you have curated for yourself. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. You have zero excuse to not rise to the occasion. I don’t care what your political beliefs or personal ideologies become, nothing excuses you to behave in a way that is self-seeking, ever. Notice that self-seeking is not the same terminology as self-care. In today’s climate, those are often mistakenly interchanged easily. It takes active energy to engage empathy. For me, this is more important for your spiritual health than a weekly church attendance.

Ultimately, I want to leave you with this: invest in a mentor you trust. It doesn’t have to be the same person for your entire life. This person can vary throughout the stages of life. When I was in high school, Jamie was my youth group leader and mentor. In college and my early 20s, I didn’t have a mentor, and I’m not surprised that these were my hardest years spiritually. After the divorce, I ran into a former student’s mom in Starbucks one day, and she became a mentor to me. Her name is Donna, and she may have single-handedly saved my life in 2020 by meeting me at the high school to go on walks and give me free therapy and spiritual guidance without judgement.

Now, in my 30s, I have a few friends that I really trust to wrestle out my own doubts and spiritual realizations with, and those people are Paige, Molly, and Carson. They all grew up in the church like I did, became disenchanted somewhere along the line, but can still appreciate faith without scoffing. They never sugarcoat or try to assuage my doubts with stereotypical Sunday school answers. They get my ridiculous church references to youth group and worship songs. They listen, empathize, and challenge me with their own thoughts. When I read something spectacular or fall upon a song with lyrics that blow my mind, these are the people I immediately think to share it with because I want to know their reactions. Iron sharpens iron, son. The world will always try to weaken you with it, but there is so much strength to be found in the right community, and community doesn’t have to mean congregation. Trust yourself and choose your company wisely.

And, if nothing else, be thankful I gave you an age appropriate response when you asked me, “Does God ever die?”

I could’ve really wrecked you and said, “I don’t know, go ask Him.”