Finding God in Change

It’s said that there are two topics one should avoid in order to keep from pissing a person off: politics and religion. So, let’s talk about religion, shall we? Not because I want to – I agree with that rule, generally – but because in order to explain my decisions, struggles and victories, I can’t ignore the often confusing and usually disorienting role that religion has played.

With a last name like Salam, I’m frequently asked if I’m Muslim. The answer is no, but I gave it a try when I was 10. As a young girl I watched my grandparents and uncles pray – it was a mesmerizing, intriguing process even though I had no understanding of God.

I tried praying to make my grandmother proud. She beamed as she taught me the elaborate, systematic and time-consuming Islamic ritual of five daily prayers. When life revolves around this process, there is never a moment to forget about God’s presence in your life.

I did the five daily prayers for a year. It was meditative, cathartic, and peaceful, but provided a misguided sense of belonging to something I knew nothing about. It was mostly an expression of love for my grandmother.

Four years later, I was inescapably aware that everyone around me was Christian – mostly Southern Baptist – and I was not. With an avalanche of Bibles at my locker, ethnic slurs and many borderline-desperate invitations to church, I decided that I’d check it out.

I could never tell my parents I was going to a church. They weren’t necessarily practicing Muslims and rarely talked about God, but certainly weren’t cool with me exploring options in the Bible Belt.
One Sunday, I snuck off to a Southern Baptist sermon with a girl from school. I was shocked. This man was yelling to everyone about the power of God, the Creator. My creator?

He said God was the only way to make life joyous, right and good. He said, “If there are any sinners here who want to be cleansed of the past and accept Jesus Christ into their hearts, then come now!”
“What the hell,” I thought, and stepped forward. My friend gaped then pushed me further. What happened next was bizarre and extensive, but what I can say for sure is that it’s amazing how much Christians love you when they think they’ve saved you.

I spent the subsequent months reading the Bible – while it had words of strength and encouragement, it was too outrageous and implausible to believe..I hadn’t grown up with these tales, and Christian life was foreign. I visited a youth group where an artificial enthusiasm and exaggerated welcoming left uncomfortable memories.

Reflecting back on these times of religious experimentation, it’s impossible for me to not think about the civil war between Christians and Muslims that raged in my homeland, Beirut, for 15 years – including my first four. The hateful divide took an estimated 200,000 lives and destroyed millions of others, including the people closest to me. After witnessing the war I couldn’t make sense of God.

It took until I was 22 and met a beautiful, powerful, queer girl – she is still my best friend – who gave me a book that changed entire perspective of religion, faith and belief.

Octavia Butler’s “Parable of a Sower” is a post-apocalyptic novel about a girl with the ability to feel others’ pain and sensations. She develops a religious system in the remnants of a gated community in Los Angeles that, while fictional, made sense: “God is change.” By recognizing that God is change, we are able to recognize our own power to affect and direct change/God. It made sense then and still does.

Change is the one thing we can count on, that we can be sure will always be occurring around and inside us. Change is evolution: learning, growing that is to be embraced, not resisted.

It’s a challenge to understand why so many people blast others for changing their views, thoughts, or beliefs. Why is it wrong to reflect on our situation; bring in new information; analyze it; and reassess our goals and thought process based on it? I don’t have an answer to the big questions, but I do know one thing: resisting change only delays the inevitable, and forcing life and the future to fit into a box that is no longer relevant is impossible and only wastes time.

When I’m asked what religion I am, I usually say that I don’t participate in organized religion, but I have a different approach to God. Sometimes I’ll just say it: I believe that God is change. It’s more a philosophy than a religion, but it’s a cornerstone of my life. I allow myself to not be pigeonholed. I allow myself to change my mind, my opinions, my approach to myself and others, and it’s totally OK.