When I was growing up as an atheist in a Christian community, I had a lot of people try to convert me to Christianity. I had two big stumbling blocks to believing in God, however. The first was the problem of evil ("theodicy" -- how can a good God permit suffering?). The second was the role of faith, which they generally defined as belief in the absence of all evidence, or perhaps even belief
in spite of evidence. It seemed to me that faith was being used as some sort of elaborate mental test: how much cognitive dissonance can one willingly subject themselves to before cracking? I did try to believe for a while, I really did, but I needed a convincing theological framework. I read a lot of Christian theology (as much as a little 13-year-old brain could handle, anyways), but none of them made a convincing case for belief. Some theological arguments actually made God
less convincing to me, like Pascal's Wager, a hilariously utilitarian justification for why one should have faith. Anyways, none of it ever worked, so I gave up and called myself an agnostic.
I was drawn to the pagan path for many years but I also struggled with a similar issue of belief. When I was 12, I briefly flirted with Wicca, but I couldn't bring myself to do spells, even though of course I loved witches, magic, and spellcraft in fiction. I just felt silly calling quarters or summoning spirits that I really, really could not make myself believe in.
There was also a while (in this 12-13 year old phase) when I came across some thought-provoking literature that suggested that we couldn't trust anything at all. The only thing, the ONE fact I could know for sure, irrefutably, through direct evidence, was that I had a consciousness, by virtue of the fact that I was aware and thinking. I could be a brain in a vat, for all I knew, but I had a consciousness. I couldn't even be sure that other people were real, or that what I was seeing was real, because that could all be distorted by my brain (a la the Matrix). Now that
really screwed with my head! Although it was also weirdly comforting in my teenage years when I was most depressed and unhappy, that maybe none of this world was real and nothing I did mattered, so it was probably fine if I screwed up. I honestly don't know how I functioned half the time, but again -- there were other things going on in my life that really contributed to my depression. So I've also been on the more extreme end of skepticism.
Eventually I came to Paganism in college via feminist spirituality and a the(a)logy that I could believe in, even if it wasn't the irrefutable scientific proof I yearned for as a teenager. It explained the world and the Goddess in a way that I could understand -- as a web of life, and as a vast network of relationships. This thealogy did not need the Goddess to behave as an omnipotent, omniscient being, and it explained that suffering was a natural and unavoidable part of being alive; it also offered a set of ethical principles that I felt I could live with.
This was really my first experience with another form of belief, the ability to choose a story. Sometimes we choose stories that we might not have proof for, but they are the stories that we need, the stories that serve us best. It reminds me of a book that I really like,
The Life of Pi by Yann Martel. In this book, the titular protagonist Pi claims that he will make you believe in God, and spends about 90% of the book weaving an incredible and fantastic tale of how he survived a shipwreck by living on a lifeboat with an adult Bengal tiger. It is a magnificent tale of resilience and strength, but upon being pressed for answers by insurance officials, he tells a different story, in which
[SPOILERS]the survivors of the shipwreck cannibalized each other, leaving him alone to drift until he came to land. He asks the officials which story that they prefer (since they cannot prove or disprove either story conclusively), and they wind up writing in the official report that it is remarkable how a young boy managed to survive on a lifeboat with a tiger after all.
[SPOILERS END]. We are to led to imply that God is something similar -- we might not be able to prove or disprove the existence of the Divine objectively, but we need to believe in it in order to survive.
I think a big problem with my issue of belief before is that, developmentally, adolescents often have trouble holding competing truths in their heads and recognizing that both can be true and have merit, even if seemingly contradictory on the surface. I can now both recognize that the myth of Persephone and Demeter is not a scientifically accurate account of why there are seasons, but it is "true" in that I can see how it reflects some deeply profound understandings of human experience and appreciate the myth for its beauty. Whereas teenage Xiao might have simply said, "This is an inaccurate story so anyone who 'believes' it must be stupid".
Since then, I think I've developed a more complex relationship between faith and belief. All those years ago when I couldn't believe in anything but my own consciousness, I now realize that it was faith that sustained me -- faith that there was something outside of my consciousness and that those things matter, even though I couldn't conclusively prove it. There is always the (vanishingly slight probability) that the sun will explode today and the earth will be plunged into darkness and humanity will go extinct, but I have faith that the sun will rise tomorrow the same way it's done for every day in my life, and so I can make plans for tomorrow. I can never get inside my beloved's head and know for sure that he loves me (this is actually something I really do struggle with), but I have faith (or try to, anyways) that he means it when he says he loves me, and that's how we can plan for the future. From there, it's not a terribly large step to believe that plants and the Earth have consciousness, and that's why we should care for them (scientifically true? Not 100% sure, but it's the better story for environmentalism!).
So to me I guess belief and faith is the foundation for what lets me do anything at all. I can't remember where I heard the analogy, but it's like swimming in a pool. If you cling to the sides of the pool to what you know for sure, then you'll never get anywhere at all and you'll never enjoy the pool. Similarly, skeptics like me need to have a bit of faith so that we can be open to new experiences.
On the other hand, we need something to rein ourselves in -- stay too long or too deep in the pool, and we drown. We need the voice of doubt to keep ourselves grounded and not "go off the deep end". I like what John Beckett has to say about faith and doubt: "Good, honest religion is a constant tension between faith and doubt. Faith keeps us moving forward, while doubt keeps us humble" [
source]. He also recommends that we "hold our beliefs loosely and explore them deeply" [
source] -- be willing to change our beliefs to reflect our experiences, but also be willing to live out our beliefs and take them seriously. Beliefs lead to experiences, which lead to beliefs and more experiences.
And for the most part now, my criteria for a "good" belief now is largely, "Does it help you get through the day? Does it make you a better person? Does it encourage you to make the world better than it was when you found it?" And if that's the case, then I care less about the strict scientific accuracy or irrefutable theological arguments behind your belief, be it plant spirits, the Lord and Lady, Loki, Jesus Christ as the Son of God, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster (mmm, yumm ...)
I see a lot of this reflected in my journey with the Tarot. At first, I was so self-conscious about it ("Xiao, what are you doing? You can't seriously think that a random card you pulled out of the deck will mean anything, do you? What a waste of $20.") that I prefaced it with a million caveats -- I'm just doing this for fun, it doesn't mean anything, I have some theories about synchronicity and card-drawing but they're probably not true, it's probably all just random. I placated myself with enough disclaimers and reassurances to myself that it was "just to see what would happen" to let myself start practicing, and lo and behold, the cards always provided sound advice. I practiced enough that now I am pretty comfortable with them and I don't need so many disclaimers anymore -- I can now say that I know that they work (experience begets belief). I don't know the exact mechanism by which they work, but I can usually count on them to tell me the story that I need in the moment. And that's the kind of faith that I need.