A lot of people are surprised when I tell them that I’m Christian.

To them, it seems almost a juxtaposition of values — how could someone so left-brained and skeptical, who enthusiastically does math in their spare time, opt into a belief system so constrained and devoid of autonomy? Society’s preconceptions about Christianity broadly mischaracterize the attitudes and perspectives of believers. However, Christianity does not limit my inner life through a forced realignment of morality, but rather allows for greater questioning and a holistic worldview. The continued challenging of my faith has been crucial in two ways: first, internal questioning of whether the Bible is “real” has cemented my beliefs further, and second, external discussion with those outside my faith has enriched my understanding of my own beliefs. Through a mindset of continued questioning, I’ve furthered my ways of thinking about not only my own faith but my broader perspective of the world. 

I first started to question the legitimacy of my faith in primary school. I attended a small, family-oriented Christian school that made faith the core part of life, with prayers before lessons and lunchtimes. The Christian ethos throughout my primary school seemed to be one of carving out a narrative without question while ingraining a culture focused on Christian values. Unfortunately, that was not an ethos that encouraged questioning — the response from classmates when I pondered aloud whether the Earth really was 4,000 years old was usually “Jayden, aren’t you already a Christian?”. Although teachers would answer my burning questions with half-hearted enthusiasm, I was never truly convinced by their interpretations. 

I think those experiences are canon to many, yet the unfortunate conclusion some come to is the complete rejection of faith. At face value, it is a logical one — if decades-long believers can’t answer your questions, who can? 

It’s very difficult for one person to have the same way of thinking as someone else; we’re all shaped by our individual experiences and personalities. And these ways of thinking influence how we see faith. Everyone finds different ways to justify their beliefs, and someone else’s reasons might not fit your own. Faith isn’t a rigid set of beliefs, it’s deeply personal. 

No book or teacher or YouTube video is enough to convince you beyond a doubt that any beliefs fit your perspective of the world perfectly. As an example, I couldn’t believe that the world was genuinely 4,000 years old due to my interest in science. However, after some digging, I found that the Bible does not say the world is 4,000 years old; that conclusion is flawed. Since the measurement begins at the time when Adam and Eve leave the garden, there’s an undisclosed amount of time within the garden. So when you question your beliefs, do that extra bit of research to find answers.

Ultimately, these conversations formed the basis for my strong beliefs. Intuitively, you want a degree of certainty when you believe in something, otherwise there will always be a lingering feeling of uncertainty, of putting in so much of your time and effort for nothing. And I think that degree of certainty must reach quite a high level, considering the stakes at hand when considering religion. Through questioning my own beliefs, I have achieved a degree of certainty in my way of thinking that has made me so much more confident in my thoughts and perspectives. 

Discussion with others has also shaped my beliefs and way of thinking about the world. I’m quite active in the math olympiad community — most of whom happen to be staunch atheists — and many times my beliefs have clashed with theirs. 

There have been two key takeaways from talking with them, a vastly different community to my primary school friends who were born, if not raised, into Christianity. The first is to reinforce the idea that faith is personal, and a product of your experiences and upbringing and worldview. Some of the arguments I made stemmed from Christian charity, but my math olympiad peers did not buy it. Not only would they not buy any emotional rhetoric I threw at them (I probably should’ve known better, seeing as I was dealing with a community whose interests were math and logic), but also, when I saw Christians helping out at the Red Cross, they saw Christians responsible for spreading conservative vitriol, responsible for “evil” politicians coming to power. Thus, interacting with others hasn’t just enhanced my faith, but it’s also made me more perceptive of others’ experiences and how they perceive my faith. 

The second key takeaway is a reconsidering of why I was a Christian in the first place. When discussing Christianity, the key basis of my arguments were certainty and utility: “Christianity is real, if you’re Christian you go to heaven, therefore you should become a Christian.” However, the first premise that Christianity was the “correct” religion was furiously debated. And while searching for alternate pathways to convince them, I looked deeper, coming upon a turning point in my beliefs. Inherently, faith is based on more than a beneficial transaction. It’s based on an agreement with the principles that dictate your beliefs instead. Even if the Bible was false, I (along with many other Christians) would not regret my dedication to the faith, since the principles of love and kindness that underpin it are virtuous values to live upon. 

So, while it might seem counterintuitive, it’s a great idea to talk about your faith and ask others about theirs even if you have completely opposing beliefs — some of the most interesting perspectives I’ve learned started with simple conversations. I see Christianity not as a fixed set of beliefs, but as a fluid identity that actively encourages questioning, as in Matthew 7:7: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Having a skeptical “inner life” that continuously questions my faith has only further strengthened it.