Chapter Fourteen - Agnostics

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Agnostics

IF YOU SAY you are an agnostic, here’s what that means.

You don’t know if God exists.
And you’re not claiming either way.

You’re not a theist, you don’t claim there is a God.
You’re not an atheist, you don’t claim there isn’t.
You’re holding space in the middle.

You may believe the truth is unknowable.
Or that the question isn’t answerable yet.
Or that it doesn’t matter as much as people think it does.

You might lean toward belief, but without certainty.
Or lean toward disbelief, but without closing the door.

You might say:
“There probably isn’t a God, but I’m open.”
Or:
“There probably is something bigger, but I don’t know what.”
Or just:
“I have no idea, and I’m not going to pretend I do.”

You may be intellectually cautious.
You may be spiritually confused.
You may be burned out on the noise. The preachers, the apologists, the debates, and you want something quieter.

You probably value evidence.
You probably dislike certainty without proof.
You probably see faith and doubt not as opposites, but as human.

You might still be searching.
You might have stopped.
You might be content to live in the question or frustrated that there’s no answer.

You might pray sometimes.
Just in case.
You might feel something greater.
Or you might not trust your feelings at all.

You don’t believe in dogma.
You don’t think anyone has it fully figured out.
You don’t follow rules written in ancient books.
But you try to be a good person.
You try to be honest.
And you try not to fake certainty just because it’s easier.