Sometimes. 

Believing in God was never a innate experience for me like it seems to be for some people; it was something I learned and it was expected of me by my dad’s side of the family. I went to church and sunday school, listened to the preacher yell about the bible and wore my best and worn-only-once Easter dresses for those special sunday services (don’t ask me why but I remember those services especially.) 

I was raised Christian because of my dad and his side of the family, but it wasn’t until a few years back that I discovered my mum’s side of the family was Jewish, or rather had some Jewish in them. 

I’ve somewhat embraced this aspect of my heritage and background more readily and researching has paved the way for me to think that this is the religion for me. 

But there’s still this whole God thing. I mean, who even is God? What does God mean to you? Who is God to you? To believe in something is to see it without reference and objective truth and that’s always been my barrier, but sometimes late at night and right when I’m waking up and when I pray I do believe. 

So, I guess you could say I do believe, but I’m forever a skeptic.