I live at a Christian camp. This weekend, moms and daughters are gathered together to bond. It is cleverly called "Moms and Daughters" weekend. Every time I drive home, I see several sets of moms and daughters having a picnic on the field or doing a bible study on a bench. Each set is scattered so that you are only bonding with your mom or daughter (God forbid you accidentally bond with someone else's!). Each morning on my way to work, I see the chapel filled with old and young women listening intently to a female speaker who is undoubtedly teaching these moms and daughters how to be moms and daughters living for the Lord.

Last night I called my mom. I didn't thank her for being such a great mom or for giving birth to me or for recently giving me gas money and groceries; I thanked her for never taking me to one of these mother/daughter bonding camps. My mom's response? "Yeah that sounds dumb." Had my mom and I ever found ourselves at a "Moms and Daughters" camp, we'd probably make fun of it, ditch the itinerary, and go on a hike. I'm not sure what I'd do without my mom. While it is an insult in our society to be told that you are just like your mother, I don't think I'd mind that comment one bit.

A Grown-Up Who Thinks She Is Better Than Everyone Else.

Prior to acquiring the label “grown-up” by a bold and irritating child, I had a desire to be everything “Christian.” I wanted to wear the right clothes, talk the talk, and believe whatever it was that man behind the pulpit was saying. A few cocktails of maturation and uncertainty later, I find myself today wanting to be anything “unChristian.” The cheesy tees annoy me, the language no longer holds meaning, and the man behind the pulpit is just a man telling me how important it is to go to church. While I am committed to believing in God,  I am hesitant to accept the brand name “Christian.” I don’t like its culture, I don’t like its superiority complex, and I especially don’t like its ability to hide a plurality of beliefs under an appearance of singularity. I’ll expand on this latter dislike. Every Christian interprets the Bible and dogma and praxis and any other element of religion in his or her own way. These interpretations are inevitable, as everyone brings their own biases and presuppositions to the proverbial Table. Our biases shape how we want to view God and how we want others to view God. Resultantly, we have a plethora of interpretations, differences, and division. Christianity, however, likes to  say all Christians believe in one Truth. Because of our Christ-o-centric society, Christians will probably call that Truth “Jesus” (He loves you, by the way). However, that one Truth is interpreted differently, as well! I say that I believe in God, but how I view God is probably very inconsistent with how the president of my Christian university views God. In turn, his view of God differs from that of his neighbor (the creepy man, not the good Samaritan). We Christians (I use the first person plural with reluctance) like to say we all believe in at least some elemental bullet points, but I am beginning to think no elemental bullet point exists. Sorry, pastor, priest, and pope. Christianity is a multiplicity of religions, contingent upon a buffet of subjectivity. Instead of being upset about this, maybe we should acknowledge this, engage in some dialogue, and form communities of similar beliefs. Then we can build separate meetinghouses for each community, compete for the attendance of those in other meetinghouses, call the beliefs of other communities “extreme,” “conservative,” “liberal,” or “completely wrong,” and all the while fill in the bubble that says “Christian.”

I guess if I’m going to possess this a priori commitment that reads so eloquently, “I believe in God,” I also have to fill in that bubble that reads so ambiguously, “Christian.” I wish there were a bubble entitled, “Christian but hates Christianity.”