Eighth grade was as close to atheism as I ever came. Confirmation was horrible, our class filled with obnoxious, disinterested “potential” Lutherans. Our teacher was an exasperated seminary intern, who I’m sure was questioning his sense of call. I could not see God’s relevance to me or to anyone in my immediate surroundings. My parents made me go. The preceding five siblings did it. Precedence had been set. I went. I hated it.
My parents making me go actually meant my mom made me go. Dad was quite emotionally detached from me, so it was difficult for me to determine his role in my life (Now as an adult, I appreciate my dad's own wounds more). There was an emotional gap, even though dad was physically present.
Into that gap entered Pastor Erickson, my second year confirmation teacher, and a father-like presence who greeted me like he was genuinely glad to see me. He affirmed and encouraged my attempts at answers. He circled our group, checking to see if we had our homework completed. I still remember his pat on my shoulder when I had it done, even if the answers were a bit off. For a girl who could not remember her dad’s touch since her childhood, Pastor’s affirming gesture opened the door of my heart to faith.
Of course, I would not say that the reason I follow Jesus Christ is because of a kind pastor I met almost twenty years ago. Nonetheless, I would say that my worldview had a subjective start. And I do not think it’s an overstatement to suggest that everyone’s worldview has a subjective start.
While we may claim, and like to cling to, objectivity in our worldviews, intellectual knowledge is fired by an emotional spark. Pathos paves the way for logos. Any decent educator understands this. Engagement, establishing of internal motivation, paves the way to understanding.
Therefore, I would encourage you to consider your worldview’s subjective beginnings: Who opened your heart to your present position? What experiences fed (or feed) that belief system? If negative relationships and experiences encouraged you to reject a particular worldview, what view have you developed instead? What relationships and experiences influenced your development of the new view? Perhaps ironically, awareness of these factors can help us to consider our worldviews more objectively.
Indeed, thinking objectively can free us from subjectivity’s stranglehold--our emotions can become traps if we’re unaware of them. However, subjectivity determines the livability of our worldview.
Several years ago in the high school classroom, I had a rather nihilistic TA. He possessed a comedic irony covering an Eeyore-like disposition. Everything was meaningless and futile, but he was alive, so . . . whatever. Concerned a depression was developing in her son, his mother forced him into counseling. Upon my asking how it went, he told me the counselor challenged him to develop “more emotionally healthy beliefs. . . [Insert sigh] . . . Whatever.”
Our worldviews are subjective in their initiations and in their implications. So I ask: What are the implications of your worldview on your sense of self? On your relationships? On your view of the future? On your view of your past experiences? On your daily decisions? In other words, is it livable?
My faith in Jesus Christ certainly does not lack in subjective rationale for me. Of course, my emotions do not always align with my beliefs. But that is the journey--one of greater and greater consistency and wholeness. The sense of being continually unconditionally loved is the most powerful grounding for genuine self-esteem. That validation that this world is broken confirms reality as I experience it: fragments of beauty and wonder exist as well as disconcerting evil. I am part of that beauty and part of that evil, so joy, responsibility, confession, forgiveness, and renewal are all components of meaning for me. Relationships are the most valued engagements in life because others exist in the image of God, so the reality of my relationship with God is played out in my relationships with others. Following Christ also confirms humanity’s seemingly innate teleological orientation--we desire life to head somewhere; we seem to want to grow, to learn, to develop, to mature. Christianity affirms and invites that desire out.
Now, of course, these are not an exhaustive list of the subjective benefits of my following Christ. They are also certainly not objective arguments for the truthfulness of Christianity. My intent was two-fold: to invite consideration of the role of the subjective in worldview development as well as to invite considerations of worldview consequences . . . which are always experienced subjectively.
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