“I’m right. You’re wrong.”

I think we’ve all bristled at these words (or some variation of them) at some point in our lives. This is especially true when it comes to core beliefs such as those connected to one’s spirituality.

Faith of any kind is immensely personal, whether it’s faith in a deity or a philosophy. It gives our life a sense of purpose, and that’s important. Human beings are wired in a way that they crave purpose. In fact, not having a sense of purpose can increase our susceptibility to anxiety, depression, and a sense of boredom with life (source).

I am a strong advocate against proselytization, but this doesn’t mean I’m against people sharing their faith and beliefs. Rather, I’m against the act of trying to convert people to your set of beliefs. What works for one person may not be the solution for another.

The challenge here is when certain religions believe they possess the absolute truth. By design, they seem constructed to conquer; to quelch any other way of thinking or believing. I know this struggle firsthand, as many do. Since I walked away from the religion I was raised in, I’m often reminded by well-meaning but ultimately painful remarks about how I need to or “will find my way back to” the religious beliefs I willingly left behind.

My exodus led to the discovery of myself and an authentic set of core beliefs that aligned with who I am. I was no longer trying to fit a “square peg through a round hole” by trying to force myself to do some kind of mental gymnastics that justified a dogma I didn’t agree with or a deity I didn’t believe in. By walking away, I gained a stronger sense of purpose and spirituality not because I “didn’t know what a relationship with God is really like” but because I finally chose to pursue what was authentic to me.

This doesn’t mean that the religion I was raised in is “wrong”. Rather, it was simply the wrong fit for me. There are numerous things I disagree with in that religion, yet I have seen the good that it can do in people’s lives. I have seen the religion I abandoned give people exactly what my exodus gave me: hope, purpose, strength, and well-being.

And I would never try to take that away from someone simply because I don’t view the world through the same lens.

We, as a people, need to learn to make room for each other.

“But what if someone’s beliefs go against what I think is ‘right’? What if those beliefs hurt people?”

It’s a good question, and one I’ve spent a lot of time pondering. I wholly admit that I wrestle immensely with the religion of my youth because there are many things that strike a deep chord within my sense of right and wrong. And it’s the very reason I practice finding common ground with people of that religion and other differing beliefs. Life and religion and philosophy is not a world of absolutes.

We can find common ground with each other and respect beliefs without compromising our stance on preventing harm against others. I can respect someone’s dedication to God and still stand up against any behaviors done in the name of God that harm other people, just as I would stand up against any harm done in the name of Allah, Buddha, or any other name or cause.

But in the midst of taking a stand between right and wrong, we also need to remember not to view religion or people as either “good” or “evil.” Finding common ground and common beliefs reminds us that – despite our differences – we are also very similar.