Understanding my faith

When I came back to Fresno, I was grateful that I had a place to go. I would be near my family, even if they were really the only people I knew in this area. It's the first time that I'd been back permanently in 14 years, so the passage of time has lots to do with that.

If there was anything I was fearful of, it was that people -- my family -- might not understand my faith. To a degree, they don't. I don't expect them to. They really haven't asked about it much, and when they do, it's more from the standpoint of "why would you choose this faith and not something else," or, more recently, why I still subscribe to the faith espoused in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, even if my soon-t0-be ex-wife, is no longer with me and isn't practicing the faith anyway.

A person's faith is not unlike their unconditional love for a child, or, hopefully, a spouse or relative. Done right, this faith is unwavering and non-negotiable. It takes time to develop a testimony, in this case, of one's faith. It does not happen overnight -- nor, in that respect, does a love for someone else.

But it has been a bit of a struggle since moving home, since no one of my family members share my faith or understand it. On this past Sunday, these issues came to a head at my father's house.

My father was born and raised Muslim. For many years, it would be safe to say that he did not exercise his faith, though it was there for a while. I suppose it's because he immigrated to a country that doesn't have the corresponding population of Muslims that Iran has. I don't think there are many Christians in Iran. In fact, I would venture to say there are more Jews in Iran than Christians.

Nevertheless, religion to my father has always been important to him, even if the faith he ascribes to doesn't mesh with my beliefs. I have to respect the fact that he does have a relationship with God, or Allah, in this case, and that he does pray several times a day and does what he can in his own way to exercise his faith.

His tolerance of my faith doesn't show the same level of acceptance, and it became evident Sunday when I came home from church. He questioned why I fasted, and told me he didn't believe the LDS faith in part because of its "racist" beliefs. I think there was more to his argument -- I think he's offended that I'm not Muslim, but then neither are my brother or sister, who, while they both believe in God, have an ambivalence toward religion as a whole.

We argued this point for more than an hour on Sunday -- how I could betray my father by choosing a religion not like his, and continuing to practice it even after the person who gave me my faith is less and less a part of my life. We yelled at each other, with each of us pointing negative things out about each other's respective religions. It got ugly, as our voices were raised, and fingers were pointed, and things were said that we should not be saying -- especially on Sunday.

I figured I could use this as a teaching moment. I have to respect the fact that my father is close to God, in his own way. He's been to Mecca twice, which is the holiest city in all of Islam. He's stoned the Devil and visited the Kaaba, at two of the most sacred sites in the Muslim faith. I told him that I respected his religion, and that mine wasn't necessarily better than his, but that I had chosen the Mormon faith for a litany of reasons. My father, and anyone else for that matter, is free to choose their own religion. And that's in fact what I told him. The LDS church teaches us that each of us has our agency -- our free will, if you will -- to do what we choose. Heavenly Father will not smite me for drinking coffee. But He knows I know I will be blessed if I don't, simply because I've made a covenant with Him.

In the end, after nearly walking out of my dad's house, I told him that I wanted to talk to him. He described to me why he doesn't attend the mosque -- that he has some differences with organized religion. That's perfectly fine. It's not my place to tell anyone how to live their lives or what religion to choose, or foist my beliefs upon someone so as to "convert" them. That's not my job. If you want to know about my faith, I'll tell you. But I'm not going to run around saying my faith is better than yours. If you want to know why it might be, that's up to you.

We talked for another hour, and we were able to hopefully come to an understanding. I asked him for a hug, and he gave me one, and I told him I loved him. That doesn't happen often, as I can probably count on both hands the number of times he's told me that. At the same time, I haven't told him that many times, either. So I guess we have more work to do in that department.

I'm not sure if we came to an understanding or not. But at least he knows how I feel, and I know how he feels. And I hope the mystery surrounding my faith has been lifted a bit for my father. If anything, I would hope that he would be glad that I have a relationship with Heavenly Father, just as he does.

And no one can criticize that.