Fifty Years...and Shades...of Gray.

my dad and me, ca 1965

"Some things are proof of nothing, 

and some are proof of everything."  

-- Delia Ephron

One of the things I'm figuring out as I round the corner at the half-century mark is that the older I get, the more gray areas there seem to be...and that's not even talking about my hair, which has become an almost completely gray area. I've made the decision to accept that with relative grace and keep going, though these days I notice I am often the grayest person in the room. Even when I'm hanging out with my mother. She doesn't like gray -- not in her laundry, her principles, or her hairdo.

My white-haired father and I are of a more similar philosophical bent (and I'm sure I'll look just like him in another decade or so). He confided to me awhile ago that the older he gets, the less he is sure of. That particular piece of information was a bit of a bombshell, coming from a man who prides himself on knowing most everything, or at least convincing everyone that he does. He read the complete Encyclopedia Britannica as a young boy, and has been talking like one ever since. He also once told his mother, "It's amazing that I'm so smart, seeing as how my parents are not." Something like that. You get the picture.

But now it's as if things at the far end of this long hallway seemed much more clear at the beginning than they do as he's approaching the door. I'd be inclined to think this experience is common to many, but whether it is or not, my dad and I are definitely walking the same hall.

We're learning to accept the gray.

One of the things he said on the subject that has helped me most is that these days, when someone raises an issue or asks a question or says something that makes him raise an eyebrow in a church context, the answer in his head is usually the same: "I don't know...and neither do you."

Bingo. He's just summed up the way I feel about a whole lot of things. But the curious thing about that is, it doesn't really matter to me. As long as everyone's willing to admit that we don't know, I can exist in that place pretty happily and with my faith in good condition.

It's only when people start acting like I should know (like they do) that my faith gets tried.

Faith is, after all, not about knowing, right? By it's very nature. So the words so common in our Mormon experience, "I know this church is true", would really be more accurate if they were "I believe this church is true. I hope this church is true." When I sit in a testimony meeting and hear the words "I know" over and over, I sometimes feel like an outsider. Like I was absent the day they handed out the Facts. Even though I'm feeling the spirit right along with the rest of them. Even though I know it's really just a matter of semantics.

"We believe all things. We hope all things. We have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things." So far that describes my church experience quite well.

But none of the Articles of Faith begins with the words "We Know..."

A testimony is definitely an ebb and flow thing. There are good years, and not so good, an experience I am convinced is common to us all. Within that bigger cycle, I find there are smaller ups and downs. There are times when I go to church and I think, "Not a great episode today. Tune in next week." And then Sunday comes around again so I do tune in, and lo and behold it's the kind of episode that leaves me with a warm, peaceful feeling and the theme song stuck in my head for days.

I think we all start out parroting the things our parents and teachers believe until at some point we begin to understand the workings of the spirit a bit and those feelings start the development of our personal faith. It's an individual thing...some of us are 7, some are 47. It would be nice if we were all on the same timetable, but alas. We grow, we test the limits, and we have some more spiritual experiences. We gain a testimony of a few foundational truths. 

If we decide to stick around, it's because eventually our faith has taken enough steps forward that steps back don't impact the overall trajectory of our journey. 

Once we've made the choice to believe, perhaps the eyebrow-raising things that get said or done at church don't need to matter because we're comfortable enough with where we're going to keep walking and figure it out along the way. Or with some things, not at all...we'll figure those out when we get there. 

So in a curious twist, my steps into the gray are feeling more confident and more comfortable than those of my younger years when I seemed to know so many answers. I'm perfectly happy to admit that no one really knows most of it, because we simply can't. 

When we finally do know, we'll already be there.

Until then, will you mind if I'm usually thinking that I don't know and neither do you? I mean no disrespect, it's just the way that clears a path for me through life's gray middle. It's the way that I continue to believe.

But we can share our faith. Our belief and our hope. And for now, that's enough. Which is perfect, really, because that's the only "proof of everything" we have.

-S.