Here is my essay

I think “believe” is the wrong way for me to put it. Perhaps “faith in God” is a better way of describing it. In my theology, specifically the LDS or Mormon one, faith includes a hope for things which are not seen but which are true. Right now, there is nothing I hope for more than for God to exist.

Do I know or believe that God exists? No. I have always been the type of person who feels that I can never be 100% certain of anything. How can I be 100% certain that Australia exists? I have never been there myself. I simply trust that other people have been there and that the images I have seen claiming to be of Australia are real. But I could be wrong. It isn't 100%.

A bit of backstory: I was born and raised in Utah in an LDS family, so the basic assumption would probably be, “Of course that's why he's LDS.” And I would say that's partially right. I received the foundation of faith as a kid. However, as I grew older, I realized that this belief was largely based on what my family and others believed, rather than something I had come to for myself.

So as I aged and moved out, I fell away. I stopped believing. I became agnostic, not believing nor disbelieving in God. I simply had no idea. I believed that knowledge of God was far beyond what human beings were capable of obtaining.

Over time, however, during some of the dark periods of my life, I found comfort in my old faith. Listening to talks from modern prophets and apostles brought me comfort that could have been God or simply a form of nostalgia or false sense of security.

Then, one particular day, I discovered the world of anti-Mormonism, or, as you know it, Reddit.

I found hundreds, if not thousands, of cruel remarks and horrific stories about the faith I had grown up in. Some of them were so extreme that, if I didn't know better, I might have thought they were describing a satanic, human-sacrificing cult.

What threw me off was that I knew what your average Mormon was actually like. I had been raised around them. So to see these kinds of descriptions of my faith shocked me, to put it mildly.

I remember thinking, “That's not the faith I grew up in.” So I decided to do research.

I dug into every anti-Mormon claim I could find, and I mean everything. Polygamy, abuse, accusations of human sacrifice, criticisms of the Church's “bad fruits”, you name it. I doubt there is an anti-Mormon claim that I haven't encountered and studied.

What I found during my research was that nearly every claim I came across turned out to be far more complicated than it was presented. Many of them to be “nothing burgers” once the historical context and nuance were taken into account. With a basic understanding of human psychology and history, I could often understand why certain things happened, where particular claims came from, and gain further understanding.

Eventually, I found explanations for nearly everything I had encountered.

But that created another question: why was there such a strong push to disparage the Church? Was there simply a massive misunderstanding, or was there actually something fundamentally wrong with it?

That question sent me down yet another rabbit hole. Eventually, and to keep this semi-short, I reached a conclusion: if God exists, then I believe He is with the LDS faith.

I had very little doubt about that. The Church was able to provide answers to nearly every major question I had, from the problem of evil to human agency and everything in between. And when it came to questions the Church could not answer, I found that I could understand why it couldn't.

For example, consider the question of whether God Himself was created. My answer is, honestly, who cares?

If God is who people claim He is, then His nature and omnipotence are likely so far beyond human comprehension that arguing about the mechanics of His existence is completely outside our intellectual capabilities. We are human beings trying to comprehend something that, by definition, would exist beyond our understanding.

It's like slugs trying to argue about how jumbo jets work. The problem isn't necessarily that there isn't an answer. The problem is that the slugs don't have the intellectual capacity to understand it.

And that's where I leave some questions. Yet all of this depended on one thing: whether or not God actually exists.

I had come to believe that the Church was true. I had found answers that made sense of existence, morality, suffering, agency, and countless more subjects. I have not seen a single belief system that can answer even half of that. But every one of those answers ultimately depended on the same foundation.

God. Without God, none of it mattered. I realized I was building a pyramid from the top down. I had the structure. I had the answers. I had explanations that seemed to make sense of the world. But I didn't have the foundation.

And that is where my problem lies. I could spend the rest of my life researching philosophy, theology, psychology, and every argument for and against God. But none of that could answer the most fundamental question with certainty

Does God actually exist?

And I suppose that brings me to the answer to the question of why I have faith in God.

To answer this question, I only have this: I believe, or at least I try to believe, because I don't believe there is any other option for me.

Call me weak, but I have severe depression, which damages how I feel the spirit and interpret experiences. And aside from my own sorrows, I see the immense amount of pain that exists in the world. Dictators rise and persecute millions. Abusers harm others. SA happens every day. Children are born into horrific circumstances and live lives filled with suffering. When I look throughout human history, it seems difficult to escape the conclusion that the overwhelming majority of humanity has lived through a great deal of hardship.

And to that I ask: What is the point, then?

Why bother living at all?

Yes, we can experience things that are unique to us. We can create. We can love. We can experience joy, beauty, friendship, and moments of genuine happiness. But those moments are often a small fraction of our existence. For much of our lives, we wake up, become hungry, get sick, go to work, and spend years working just to eventually have a few years of freedom in retirement. And even then, many of us will experience suffering through illness, loss, loneliness, or simply the realities of aging.

The world is a horrible place. Yes, there are beautiful things in it. There are things that can make us joyful and happy. But so often those moments are fleeting. Let me be clear, some people genuinely do live good lives, especially in our modern day, but when I look at the totality of human existence- billions of people across thousands of years- the amount of suffering is staggering.

So what's the point? If suffering is ultimately all that awaits us, why continue? Why not simply opt out and escape it altogether?

Eventually, suffering comes for all of us in one form or another. If it doesn't come through our own illness or circumstances, it will come through the loss of someone we love. Eventually, every one of us will confront death. It isn't really a question of if suffering will occur, but when.

So again I ask: What's the point? For me, the answer is God.

Every day, I hold onto the hope, or perhaps the faith, that God is real, and that somehow this suffering will ultimately be turned toward our good. Because the alternative is too horrifying for me to grasp.

In LDS theology, we believe that this earth is a proving ground: a fallen world where, through the refiner's fire of mortality, we can become something greater, creatures capable of eternal glory, thanks to our Father in Heaven. We are taught that there is a reason for our suffering, even when we cannot see or understand that reason. That there will be compensation for every unbelievable horror we see.

Is that wishful thinking? Possibly. I cannot prove that God exists simply because I desperately want Him to. I cannot prove that there is an eternal purpose behind suffering simply because I need there to be one.

But then I have to ask myself: what is the alternative?

If there is no God, no purpose, no existence beyond this life, then suffering is ultimately just suffering. The good moments are temporary, the people we love will disappear forever, and eventually so do we. Whatever meaning we create for ourselves will end.

I don't find that answer satisfying.

Maybe that is why I call what I have faith rather than certainty or knowledge. I don't have proof. I don't have a math equation that demonstrates God's existence. While I do find evidence for God, it is often convincing only if I choose to interpret it as God. Many can point to the complexity of DNA as evidence for God; while that could point to God, it could also just be an instance of coincidence, or we simply lack information that would make it make sense. So what's left? 

What I have is hope, a hope that I cannot let go of. It could be my genes. but I cannot seem to let go of the hope that God is real, because the message of my faith is so good. It provides hope in every aspect of life; it helps me get up in the morning when I just want to lie down and die. It helps when I am depressed and can't find a way out.

I hope that there is a God. I hope that the suffering we experience is not meaningless. I hope that the people who have suffered throughout history have not suffered for nothing.

And most importantly, I hope that there is something waiting for us beyond this life that makes sense of all of it.

So perhaps the most honest answer I can give to why I believe in God is this: I don't know that He exists. But I choose to have faith that He does, because I cannot look at this world and accept it as it is. Call me naive or childish or weak, but that's the way I see it.

I should clarify one thing, however. My faith in God is not a belief that exists in the complete absence of evidence. I do believe there is evidence for God. I have encountered philosophical arguments, religious experiences, historical considerations, and aspects of existence that I find genuinely difficult to explain without God. At the same time, I recognize that evidence is rarely interpreted in a vacuum. We bring our existing assumptions and worldview to the evidence we encounter. What looks like compelling evidence for God to one person may look entirely different to another person.

So I cannot honestly say that I have found evidence that proves God exists beyond all reasonable doubt. I haven't. But neither can I honestly say that there is no evidence for God. I have found evidence that, to me, is consistent with God's existence and sometimes strongly suggestive of it. What I have not found is evidence that eliminates every alternative explanation and leaves no room for doubt.

And perhaps that is why the word faith matters so much to me. My faith isn't an attempt to believe something in spite of all evidence. It is my decision to place my hope in an interpretation of the evidence that I find compelling, while remaining honest about the uncertainty that remains. I don't know that God exists. I don't think I can prove that He does. But I also don't think the evidence allows me to confidently conclude that He doesn't.

So I remain somewhere in between certainty and disbelief. I have questions. I have doubts. I have evidence that I think points toward God, but not evidence that removes every possible doubt. What I have, ultimately, is faith: a willingness to hope that the God I have found intellectually compelling is actually there.