Wow, I can't believe it has been so long since my last post! I'm not too sure where the time has gone, but my lack of posting hasn't been because of a lack of thinking. Tonight, I have been thinking about the word faith. In fact, I have been thinking about that word a lot lately.

Faith [FEYTH] - noun

1.	confidence or trust in a person or thing

2.	belief that is not based on proof

3.	belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion

The technical definition of faith seems to do a good job of explaining the general idea of the word, but it seems to fall short in it's application in life. To me it is more like a blind trust in God. One of the largest obstacles to my faith has been the lack of concrete evidence. I'm a pretty straight-forward kind of guy who needs to have things pretty cut and dry. The problem with that is faith can't be broken down that way. To me, it's a decision. You either decide to have faith or you don't. Some people try not to address the situation and might argue that they don't have an opinion either way. Of course, the reality is that even if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice. I think that's where I was for a long part of my life. One thing led to another and I decided to make a new decision. I decided to have faith.

So now what? The most profound part of my decision to have faith was simply to believe. Sound kind of like the same thing doesn't it? Well, let me explain. I believe that 2 + 2 = 4. I can prove that so this belief doesn't require any faith. I also believe that Jesus loves me so much, that He was willing to watch over me and keep me safe even when I denied Him. Of course I can't prove that, so this belief does require faith. That realization was like a switch that went off inside me. I made a very conscious decision to simply have faith. And I can tell you that has had a profound impact on me, my life and my soul.

I wasn't necessarily raised "in the church". I certainly was born to parents that considered themselves to be Christians, but never really attended Sunday services or read the Bible. My grandmother was a different story. She was a very reverent Christian who dedicated her life to the Lord. I remember her taking me to church every chance she had (which wasn't very often). While we were there, she absolutely glowed. Not only because she was in her favorite place with her favorite grandson, but because that was where she felt closest to her Lord.

Those handful of Sunday mornings have all been combined into one wonderful memory of her. I still love and miss her. I wish I could say that she were still here so that I might be able to share with her all my new feelings about God. But, I truly believe that she is in heaven right now and she is watching over me. She knows and sees all about me and my new life and that gives me a good feeling.

I mention all of this because I am reading John, Chapter 11. This chaper teaches us about the resurrection of Lazarus after he grew sick and died. Lazarus and his two sisters, Mary and Martha, all had a very intimate relationship with Jesus. So, my stugy guided posed a very interesting question:

What do you think is the secret to that kind of relationship to Christ?

I believe that intimate relationships are much more about love than anything else. If we truly love Christ, then that type of intimate relationship is simply a given. I realize that it's a little different level of love, but doesn't this same line of thinking apply to all the people we love in our lives?

I have been working with my good friend and neighbor, Scott, on a bible study of the book of John. While we have had some wonderful conversations, I have also raised a few questions and thought provoking statements to myself. So, here is the answer to one of them:

Recount the time when you first came to Jesus and believed.

This is a hard one to put in a “nice and short” answer. I am coming to believe that He has always been there for me. Even though I have spent a significant part of my life trying to think otherwise, He has been there since day one. The debate over exactly when day one was is a debate I’m not yet equipped to go into, but let’s just say that it was when I was born. So basically, I grew up without an awareness of Jesus. During my college years, I even grew to resent Him. In April of 1996, I basically turned my back on Him and converted to Buddhism. Now, as an adult, I realize that even when I turned my back to Him, He was always right there. I didn’t even begin to realize that until just a couple of months ago.

You see, I had really been struggling. My career was at an all-time low. My marriage had been dissolving. My relationships with friends seemed to be superficial. Money was tighter than tight. And depression has been an ever-present influence. All of those negatives and yet, God had always been right there. He was just waiting for me to be ready to get the hint. For some unknown reason, I started to feel it was important to go (as a family) to church. My wife started to look for help on our marriage and I was willing to seek help also. I started working on my depression issues. Then one day in church, the Lord gave me the hint I was ready to receive. He sent the priest who married me and my wife to be a guest priest at the church I was attending.

This may not seem like a big deal on the surface, but let me explain. Our tenth anniversary was right around the corner. We had just finished a rather lengthy and gruelling marriage workshop. And I haven’t seen or heard about Fr. Connelly in years. For him to show up on that day was the Lord giving me the hint. Actually, hint is a rather mild word when considering that what I felt was more of a giant smack right across the face.

HELLO! HAVE I GOT YOUR ATTENTION NOW!!!!

That day, I was alone in church. Christine was not feeling well and the kids were in their religion class. I had no distractions and the message was clear. The topic of the day was the ten commandments. These are the rules to live by. That day was also the first day I had ever had communion. It was given to me by my oldest daughter who had learned about communion that day in her religion class.  During her experience, she had the forethought and saved a piece of bread and a grape for me. I can’t even begin to tell you how incredibly humbling it is to have your own flesh and blood give to you the very symbols of Jesus’ gift of his own flesh and blood.

HELLO! HAVE I GOT YOUR ATTENTION NOW!!!!

Yes, Lord. You do. And thank you for your patience.

Part two of the letter......

Towards the end of the time that I wrote the majority of my poetry, I began to shave my head. I always lit a candle for D., and I would begin a sort of ritual in which I would slowly, carefully begin to shave away all my hair. For some reason it seemed to make me feel new and clean. Sometimes I would even find some old memories I thought I had forgotten. When I was done shaving, I could blow out the candle, and go to sleep feeling totally relaxed and good about my life. The next day I would wake up with a positive outlook on life, one that I had been struggling to see for quite some time.

A few months later, I began to read about meditation and the ways to be at peace with your existence. Occasionally I tried to meditate, and it seemed to help me focus my thoughts on nothing, and just relax. Eventually I got to the point where I could bring myself to a level where all I had to do was to simply breathe. At last I was beginning to understand my inner peace. I then began to get curious about this religion that brought me this meditation. I started to read about Buddhism and the Buddhist belief system. It wasn't hard for me to relate to the words I was reading, and the feelings they portrayed.

Over the last couple of years, my belief in Jesus has slowly dwindled away to nothing. A couple of weeks ago I kneeled down to my knees, lit a candle for D., and offered one last and final prayer to Jesus. I asked him to forgive me if I was wrong, but I had to do what I felt was right. I had lost my faith in him, and I needed to find faith in something else. I just wasn't able to believe that he took D. away from us and I wouldn't be able to find out why. I needed some answers about why we are here and why we leave, and what we are supposed to do in the meantime. I couldn't find the answers through Christianity, but I did find relief in Buddhism.

I feel as if I have dropped a huge boulder off of my shoulders, and also from the bottom of my heart. I have confessed and acknowledged to myself that I am now a Buddhist. People may wonder how or why, but that is all irrelevant. In fact, the only change others may be able to detect is the more frequent smile on my face, and the lack of hair on my head, but to me the changes on the inside are tremendous.

I can't think of a better way to get things rolling than to share a letter I had written to my parents way back in 1996. It was a difficult time in my life, but things were starting to look up. As you read, you will see the name D. That was my brother. D. died at the age of 16 when I was only 11. As you might imagine, that is a pretty difficult thing for anyone, much less a child, to understand. The letter is something I wrote when I was 23 so it was some time later. I was away in college and I have to say that without the support of my wife, Christine ( a girlfriend at the time), I just don't know how I would have made it.

May 4,1996

As you may or may not already know, over the past year or so, I have really been struggling with my religion. Today I feel better, and here's my story of why.

When D. died, I grieved, then, slowly things seemed to get better. As I look back now, I can see that I didn't really question why he died. I just took it as a fact of life. Now I cannot help but wonder why.

It seems now that the only way I knew to get over D. dying was to forget. Now that I have successfully done that, I realize what a huge mistake it was to ever start. For a while, whenever I began to struggle to remember him, all I could remember was the day we buried him. Not the whole day, or even part of it. The only thing I could really remember was the picture of him that rested on the top of his casket.

I cried. I cried until my eyes grew sore and I had to struggle for a gasp of air. Then I cried some more. I still cry, but now it's not because he just died. It's because I can't seem to remember anymore.

Every night I try to light a candle in remembrance of him. Some nights I light just one, other nights I light several. Tonight I lit five for the five years that separate us in age. I have been doing this for a while now. Some nights it helps, other nights it doesn't. On the nights it helps I am grateful. I sit in peace and try to remember some of the times we had together. On the nights it doesn't help I try to find other ways to express and release my frustrations.

A while ago, I began to write poetry. They were beautiful poems, in their own little way, but they were extremely dark. They came straight from my heart to my hand. Sometimes I felt as if I wasn't even thinking of the words, my hands just knew the movements for the pen and paper, and all my emotions came pouring out onto the page. At first I didn't want anyone else to read them because I was afraid of their reactions, but later I realized that my words were the truth. If anyone was going to judge me, I wanted them to be able to do so on the basis of the truth. The poems scared some and worried others, but today I am not scared because those feelings seem to have left me. I moved on and found a better avenue to express my frustrations and concerns.

This is part one of the letter. Since it is so long, I have decided to break it up into two pieces. Hopefully, the suspense won't kill anyone. More to come......

Well, here goes. I have been thinking about doing this for quite some time, but have been a little nervous about what to write. I'm typically a rather light-hearted kind of guy. This blog will most likely be the exact opposite. Maybe some day, things will lighten up, but for now, I have to follow my instincts. I have spent the past 13+ years thinking about religion. Specifically, mine. I would say that I'm far from an expert, but I will most likely continue down this path for the rest of my life.

To be completely honest, I have a fear of coming off like a televangelist. I have neither a meticulously coifed head of hair, nor a cheap polyester suit so I guess I should let go of that feeling. So, I decided to publish my thoughts here where viewers are free to come and go without feeling like they have to stay. If you are interested, please feel free to continue reading. If not, please feel free to go. I will not ask you for money and I'm not here to preach, just share my thoughts and observations.