Which is more difficult: asking for forgiveness or forgiving someone else?
I think they’re both tough, so let’s focus on me for a second while you ruminate.
It’s humbling to ask someone to forgive me because it requires a public admission of wrong that could have otherwise been swept under a rug somewhere and forgotten. I don’t like bringing something to someone’s attention if they didn’t know about it already. Even if they are fully aware that I’ve done something stupid, it’s still hard for me to suck it up, swallow my pride, and focus on that mistake, blunder, or vile action. I fear embarrassment, and would really enjoy being right all the time (even though I rarely am). What can I say? I have a ridiculous ego. Asking for forgiveness means doing the hard work to repair a broken trust and relationship. It means owning up to one’s darkest behaviors and thoughts. It’s difficult.
Granting forgiveness to someone else challenges another part of my me. I don’t often hold grudges, but when I have been deeply hurt, I tend to pick at the emotional scar until it bleeds all over again. I have the kind of mind that dwells on or over-thinks words others have spoken or ways I’ve been treated. And when I scratch those painful scars, they never get the chance to heal even if I know that letting them fade away would be best. As strange as this sounds, I must want to feel angry and hurt if I keep rehashing those old wounds over and over again. Forgiveness means letting go completely that need to over-think and dwell upon old pain. It means taking the biggest step towards letting go. It means moving on and giving freedom to the person who owes a debt to me. I’ll admit that sometimes being able to forgive is hard.
So what about you? Which do you think is the most difficult to do: asking or giving?
I am sure we’ve all been asked this question or wondered ourselves. But have you ever heard the answers given by Buddhists? Scientists? Mormons? Taoists? Roger Nygard, director of Trekkies and Trekkies 2, took his curiosity and sense of humor on the road and asked this important question to hundreds of people. His new film The Nature of Existence tells the tale:
I wrote the toughest 85 questions I could think of, about our purpose and the nature of existence, and then asked hundreds of people all over the globe, such as: Indian holy man Sri Sri Ravi Shankar (The Art of Living), evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins (The God Delusion), 24th generation Chinese Taoist Master Zhang Chengda, Stanford physicist Leonard Susskind (co-discoverer of string theory), wrestler Rob Adonis (founder of Ultimate Christian Wrestling), confrontational evangelist Brother Jed Smock, novelist Orson Scott Card (Ender’s Game), director Irvin Kershner (Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back), Stonehenge Druids Rollo Maughfling & King Arthur Pendragon and many more… How would YOU answer?
I decided to take a look at these 85 questions, and I think we should all try them on for size. Here’s a taste:
- Why do we exist?
- What is the best thing about existing?
- What is our purpose?
- Should religions be challenged?
- Is skepticism a good thing?
- Which religion is right?
- Do we have a need to believe in something?
- What is spirituality?
- Is there a God?
- What does God need from us?
- Who is/are the Messiah(s)?
- How do we determine truth?
- Where does morality, or our “conscience,” comes from?
- Does God want to test us? Why?
- What determines sexual orientation?
- Why is God interested in our sexual behavior?
- Do we have free will?
- Is everything predetermined?
- What is best path to happiness?
- Does meditation work?
- Why do we need an afterlife?
- When does life begin?
- What is the greatest danger facing man’s existence?
I love them all, and I think I’d like to take some time to write out my own answers in the future. What do you think of The Nature of Existence? If there’s a screening near you, will you see it?
How would you answer the questions?
Photo by discoodoni
I feel uncomfortable when it comes to making promises. Saying something like “I can absolutely do that for you.” or “I’ll send that to you ASAP” makes me wary. Why? Because I know myself.
I’m not completely trustworthy, especially when it comes to getting things done. I don’t want to promise anything until I know that I will actually do it and do it on time. Breaking a promise means losing someone’s trust. It also means that I was dishonest (even if unintentionally).
Bigger promises lke “I will always love you” and “I swear I will never ____ again” are obvious trouble-makers. But so many of us say them without worrying if we’ll later break those vows later on. But what if we didn’t promise anything? What would that be like, and would out loved ones have the same confidence and security with us? How would a wedding vow that says “I will try my best to love you for as long as we are compatible” sound?
Lying and promise-breaking also bothered me as a Christian believer. In high school I meditated on the themes of speech, lying, and the power of the tongue. Pardon me for a minute, because I’m about to give you all a little bible study:
Yeah, yeah… fiery depths of hell for all liars, blah blah. We got it. But wait. Behind all the “die evildoers” text, I think these verses contain lessons about our speech that people of all religions and non-belief can live by:
- Live with integrity; be trustworthy
- Words have consequences
- Think before you speak
Do you make promises of love and commitment when you know you might not keep them? Do you make promises in general?
Photo by UGArdener
I’m a member of the community site ThinkAtheist, and one active forum discussion [NOTE: this discussion is not available any longer 
] was sparked by question to atheists who “used to be deeply religious or who used to really have faith, especially those of view who have de-converted recently.” I will post my response below, but I’d like to hear your reactions as well.
Question: [W]hat chance do you give to the possibility of reconverting or going back to the religion you left? My [non-believing] friend maintained that many people for whom religion was a fundamental part of their life will eventually go back to their old faith, and possibly in a big way.
I think that of course, it will depend on the person, and how convinced they were when they became atheists in the first place; also, I think people who have had very bad experiences with their religion, and have finally escaped, will never go back to it.
Would I go back?
Since I left faith because of an intellectual search instead of an emotional reaction or difficult experience (such as Christians being mean to me, being angry at god because of a death in the family, etc.), I don’t think it’s likely that I will ever return to being a Christian like I was before. I was sincerely passionate in my belief and I studied a lot, read much, and loved being a Jesus-follower.
But since I don’t see any evidence for a deity, do not believe there is a higher power, and above all I absolutely reject the deity portrayed in the Christian bible, I don’t see why I’d return to being religious. I don’t think any man-made religion would satisfy me or make sense.
Plus, atheism is freeing! There’s nothing wrong with it. Nothing is lacking. Why would I switch back to something so ridiculous and make-believe?
Would you go back? Let us know in the comments.
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