Baby and bath water

I saw a question posted online recently, asking whether Mormonism could ever change enough to entice me back. 

My answer was no, nothing at all. I've spent 4 years working out what was "baby" and what was "bath water."

The church is entirely bath water. I've thrown all of it out. I realised a while ago that anything good found in Mormonism is not unique and most of what is unique about Mormonism is not particularly good. 

I've found new communities; I've found new ways of giving service; I've found new friends; I've even found new ways and environments to be be emotionally and mentally uplifted.

I recognise I'll probably never live to see it happen, but I already celebrate the day, some time in the future, when Mormonism is nothing more than a footnote in the history of the world's curiosities.  

The was an old owl who lived in an oak...

While on holiday in July I reread parts of the neuroscience book on how meditative or religious-type experience effects your brain.

Meditating on a specific central idea or concept is good for brain health. There is a specific neurological circuit in the brain, the anterior cingulate, that is connected to empathy, compassion and peacefulness. Brain scanning has shown that the anterior cingulate can strengthened and activated by contemplative practices. This also quietens activity in the "fight or flight" (limbic) parts of the brain.

Last time, I described how a topic on fathers and fatherhood had initially triggered a negative emotional reaction. A trigger of negativity and initial anger. I had described how the group experience made it feel like the listening and sharing had made room for compassion and empathy. Having reminded myself of the neuroscience tenets, that's literally what's happening.

I have reflected on why the circle counsel has been so effective. I suppose, in my nervousness of religious practice and reluctance to move from a mormon "frying pan" to a new ageism "fire," I've been cautious about letting my guard down.

Reading the book gave me the reassurance that I could rationalise a science to the experience.

There are many aspects to why it works. We start the group with a form of meditation. Smudging, for some in the group, holds deeper spiritual significance. For me, I allow it to be the mental curtain between the day and the moment. I let the incense represent a sweeping away of any work or personal concerns. I clear my mind and allow it to relax. Although called a counsel, 80-90% of the evening is spent listening. By listening from the heart, but with no thought or intent to respond, the mind is again in a resting, contemplative state.

Usually, when we're in a group discussion, like a family gathering or group of people at a social event, there's a tendency to "listen to respond" or even "listen to debate/interupt/contradict." Instead of listening for the simple sake of listening.

I think that by trying hard to not think about response or to prepare my own answer, the conscious mind is able to by in a meditative state, but still subconsciously process and respond to the topics and thoughts of the others in the room. It feels like an active form of meditation on a topic.

This week, the subject was around the topic of work and finances. One person had requested the topic, with a specific concern around uncertainty of financial stability and how work becomes a defining aspect ones identity.

I felt full of admiration for the way that others in the group had turned their passions into employment. As one person put it: "I want to do work that will make my heart sing." When I spoke, I shared the former drive to by financially successful. I sought validation in my earning power. I shared the experience of being mentally ill in 2014, largely through work (though religious transition also played a part). I reflected on the week of sick leave I had taken and the decision to look for work that would give me a different life-pace.

I decided that from then on, when asked "what do you do," that I wanted the answer to be full of hobbies and family experiences. What do I do? I write! I sing! I enjoy football with one son, book games or astronomy with the other, drama with my daughter. I enjoy exploring world culture and heritage with my wife and children. Oh... you mean my job? My job is the financial facilitator that enables what I passionately do.

I felt a renewed peace with that focus. I am incredibly fortunate to have a job that is well-paid, reasonably satisfying and also not too demanding in hours and emotional attention.

One person commented that, in his work choices, he followed his heart and trusted that "the universe provides." Whatever the influence or role of the universe in where I am, I'm grateful that I've been able to follow that aspect of my heart... (or, in reality, frontal cortex!!)

Articulating pain frees up space in the mind or soul for gentler, kinder, more positive perspectives

It might sound a little clichéd that a men's council group got onto talking about fathers and fatherhood within the first few gatherings, but the experience and shared stories created a deeper sense of trust and connection.

I have felt a lighter, persistent positivity in the last four weeks since joining the circle council. I feel like my mind is clearer, like I'm able to engage with greater delight in tasks, experiences and relationships.

With that in mind, I felt sudden a rattle of agitation when our council leader, after we'd checked in, invited us to share our pain or joy of father relationships. As is consistent with council circle, we were to share our own story and avoid comment on each others. He also reminded us to listen from the heart to each other and speak spontaneously when our opportunity came.

I had to work had to apply these principles during the other members first few experiences because I felt a weight of the pain that I've tended to avoid acknowledging. The pain of the past is usually dealt with through attempted ambivalence and shelving frustrations. I pushed them from my mind to give attention to the other narratives, which were a mixture of positives and negatives.

The talking stone felt a little heavier than usual as I hefted it in my hand after it had been passed to me. I spoke in a passionate rush of frustration, disappointment and distance. I shed tears and spoke vehemently.

After an emotional few minutes of tirade and anxiety that I might cause the same hurt to my own children, I finished and listened to the other stories of both proximity and distance.

After each sharing our truth, we held hands in silence, eyes closed, acknowledging each others openness and honesty. A member of the group then offered a blessing of appreciation for our fathers, and in particular a recognition that we were loved by them; that despite our disillusion, that our fathers had acted with the best of intentions and that they had done their best with the abilities and limitations they brought with them.

As I'd been listening to the stories that came after mine I had felt a space open in my mind. As people spoke of the small acts, habits and characteristics of their fathers that they appreciated, I felt myself willing to be kinder, more generous.

We are taught to avoid the word "but" in our stories. When we express a perspective or experience and then say "but" to segue into the next section, we diminish or undermine that which has been said previous to it.

Instead, we say "and..."

After our moment of unity and acknowledgment, I took the opportunity to speak further and said:

"I am a fan of the saying, 'writing crystallises thought.' Perhaps speaking spontaneously, leanly and emotionally, to a trusted ear does the same thing. Everything that I said remains a reality and a definite experience. As I articulated my pain and allowed to bubble up out of me, it felt like I was freeing a space in my mind or spirit or soul... whatever you consider that consciousness to be. As I spoke my pain, I realised how emotional space it was occupying. Sharing it released it, or at least reduced it and freed up space for compassion and appreciation and a more positive perspective.

What I shared earlier is a truth... and... expressing them has made room to notice others. Who I am and what I appreciate about myself are, in part, things I can also take time to see and appreciate in my father.

He is, in ways, not self-conscious and doesn't worry what people think of him, a characteristic I deeply appreciate in myself.
He is willing to say sorry, an act I also value and can do comfortably.
I love to entertain an audience, a delight I also see in my father.
I have an appreciate for people, for diversity of cultures, for the earth, for nature, for art... which are all perspectives that I recognise in my father too."

As with previous weeks, I feel a deep and abiding peace.

Anger is a reaction to a deeper, potentially useful, feeling

The messy EU referendum results and political bickering in its wake has left me unsettled and angry. I've spent almost a week sniping and griping at any opportunity.

Yesterday, at circle council, I welcomed peace back into my mind and body. I woke this morning with that calming sense of well-being.

There was considerable talk last night about the referendum. A lot of us, myself included, expressed our anger at the result. We were angry, we felt divided from friends, family and fellow inhabitants who had voted Leave.

The campaigning has been ugly. The reaction to the vote, from some corners of society, uglier still. This wasn't about "losing" - I'm English, I'm used to losing - this was about a deeper sense of frustration.

As we took turns to listen deeply and with intent, I was reminded of a lesson I learned several years ago as I had been exploring my anger at other challenges. Anger is a reaction. We say "I feel angry" when we really mean "I am filled with anger" or "I am reacting with anger."

Instead of being the root of our emotion, anger is usually the reaction. Often we don't know what to do with anger, other than point it at other people. We're filled with anger, so we point it at others and try to empty ourselves of it. Unfortunately, the more we pour anger out on others, the more it seems to replenish and fill us.

As we spoke I questioned what this anger, this reaction, was being prompted by. In doing so, I identified a series of feelings:

Indignation. I'm indignant at what I perceive to be an injustice. I feel the wrong result was collectively reached by the UK. I feel indignant that people were duped into voting for something that was based on distortions and unrealistic promises. I feel indignant that certain individuals in leadership appear to have put their personal ambitions above the best interests of the people they serve.

Defensive. I'm feeling defensive of the many people who are being hurt by this decision. The fuse of racial segregation seems to have been lit. The "out" vote seems to have mobilised an ugly underbelly of racism. I want to protect those who are on the receiving end of it.

Confused. I'm confused at how so many millions of people could have reached a conclusion that seems so counter-intuitive. Given the vast volumes who voted leave, I'm sure there must be some among those voters who did so for deep, carefully-considered, well-intentioned motives. I'm sure there must be some... I just can't see them. So I'm confused at how so many could make such a wrong decision.

Having articulated those in the group, I felt a calming change of emotion. I didn't feel so angry any more. Instead I felt motivated. I don't know anything constructively to do with anger, but I do know what to do with the deeper feelings.

If I feel confused, I can seek understanding.
If I feel defensive, I can reach out and defend and protect.
If I feel indignant at injustice, I can work to right a wrong.

Rather than get stuck in a cycle of nonconstructive anger, I can channel the deeper feelings into "being the change" I hope for.

Finding peace in a new chapter in council

This has been a quiet blog for the two years since I stopped attending Mormon services.

Thursday this week, 16th, marked exactly two years since I wrote to family and my religious leader informing them of my decision to stop going.

In the two years since, I've found joy and delight in getting involved in community groups like a amateur drama group, a choir and helping at my son's football training. I've delighted in these experiences. They've been healing and invigorating.

In the midst of all that, I've continued feeling a sense of longing, a lack of peace, place and purpose. I've found myself questioning what the point of it all is. Life has felt meaningless.

Not only was Thursday exactly two years since breaking a spiritual connection, it was also perhaps the first day of starting a new one.

A friend at choir had invited me to join a "men's group." I accepted, in part out of curiosity, but more so because the invite he forwarded from the organiser spoke of something of substance and depth. This wasn't going to be idle chit-chat around a pint at the pub.

Despite my expectation of something of significance, I was unprepared for the evening. It was, initially, a little unnerving to experience something very different but, eventually, strangely familiar.

A council circle, I have since learned, has roots in Native American traditions. It has been lifted and adapted by, what I grew up calling, "new age hippies." In that sense, I felt like I was among friends, given my parents, along with some friends and nearby aunt and uncle were products of that culture.

A council circle in the UK seems to take inspiration from the Native American custom, but builds in other elements of old customs of the british isles such as old folk culture and paganism as well as hints of eastern philosophy.

Paganism (tan, tan, taaaaaaan) is a term, similar to "heathen," created by Abrahamic religions to act as a catch-all pejorative of "others." The Vikings were called pagans, the celts were too. In essence, it tends to mean pre-christian and usually has roots in ecological appreciation and connection with nature.

Anyway... I digress.

As human's we are naturally unsettled by new experiences. The brain has evolved to find safety in familiarity. For me, this was initially emotionally unsettling. I struggle meeting new people at the best of times, but the addition of an alien set of cultural icons, rituals and symbols was initially disconcerting.

I won't go into a lot of detail about what was said or done, because one of the foundations of council is confidentiality. It's also the sort of experience that has value in the Instead, I might use this blog from time to time to document how I feel and think in response to the experience.

And what I have felt, since Thursday, more than anything else, and for what feels the first time since 2014... is deep and calming peace.

Conclusions and changes

I wrote this letter to friends and family on 16th June 2014:

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I wanted to write to let you know of a recent conclusion I’ve reached.

I’ve decided to stop attending church. I’m aware of the sadness this will cause, and I’m sorry for being the source of pain, confusion or discomfort. I’ve held off making this decision, in large part, because of the effect it will have on the people, like you, who I consider to be among my closest friends and family. I hope that our friendship can remain strong.

I want to reassure you that this isn’t a knee-jerk or rushed decision. I’ve spent the last two years considering this question. Out of respect for my future, my family and for my upbringing, I didn’t want to rush into any conclusion. I wanted to explore all possibilities. I also want to reassure you that [wife’s name] has never tried to push me into doing this. One of the things that have made our relationship flourish and strengthen over the last 3-4 years is that we have both tried to show complete acceptance and respect for each other’s differing perspectives. We still do today. [Wife’s name] has never done anything to try to change my beliefs and I love her all the more for it.

Two years ago this month I decided that I wanted to fully explore the origins, foundation and implications of my faith. I decided to give myself 12 months to make sure no rash choices were made.

The 12 months became 15 and I returned to UK from China with a very different perspective on God, the world and my place and purpose within it. In October last year I’d almost decided to stop attending but, after the wonderful hand of friendship was extended by Elder Uchtdorf in conference and by my branch president, I chose to give it another chance; another 6 months of trying to find a balance between my new religious perspectives and also being an active and positive influence in my branch.

I accepted a calling as Branch Mission Leader and used it as an opportunity to study the gospel at ‘entry level.’ A chance to remind myself of the principles we teach our new members and children. I had hoped that this simple reconnection with the foundational teachings of the gospel would help me overcome my doubts and rekindle faith. Taking Elder Uchtdorf’s counsel, I doubted my doubts. I challenged them, I questioned them, and I tried to replace them with faith and application.

This reengagement with gospel study has been an immensely useful experience. It has helped me to retain a belief and hope in God. It has also helped me notice all of the things that I don’t believe any more. Week after week, while preparing the Gospel Principles lesson, I would work through material and have to juggle the content. Out of respect for the calling and the reasons the class members were attending, I tried to only use the words of the manuals, the scriptures and the prophets. In doing so I reached my current perspectives; a universalistic perspective where Mormonism’s exclusive claims were played down and our part in the great human family was emphasised.

In the end, it hasn’t been enough. Elder Uchtdorf’s olive branch is a small leaf in the great forest of absolutes. I recognise that ultimately the teachings in Mormonism depend on certain categorical claims. Faith in the things taught in the church stands or falls on those claims and I no longer have faith in them.

While I still have a hope in a divine influence and creator, I have no certainties. If I were to describe my religious perspectives today I’d probably say that I believe in collective individualism. I believe we are unified by our diversity. If there is a God, and I hope there is, I believe that he understands that individuality and diversity better than anyone else.

If there is a God, then I am comfortable with the idea that the divine is found in Mormonism but no more or less than it is found in other Christian and non-Christian faiths, philosophies and traditions. I believe that some of Mormonism’s leaders have, at times, been inspired by that divine influence –but not always and not any more frequently or with any more clarity than other philosophers and religious teachers around the world.

If there is a God, then I don’t believe that Mormonism has any stronger connection with him, nor do I believe the church is a “chosen” or “superior” organisation compared to other faith traditions.

If I had to put a label on my beliefs, I would probably call it “universalism.” It’s based on the foundation that we all really are “alike unto God” (2 Nep 26:33); that the most essential and fundamental principles of truth can be found in each nation and faith tradition. It takes the notion taught at church that many other people receive a “portion” of truth and then recognises that even Mormonism’s position of absolutes is only a similar, incomplete portion of divine guidance. In all of those incomplete perspectives, in seeing constantly through a “glass, darkly” we find a simple and consistent message: “prophecies... shall fail..., knowledge... shall vanish away” but “charity never faileth” (1 Cor 13:8-12). I believe that any religion or philosophy should be measured on how effectively it helps us embrace this single important principle of charity. It is perhaps the most consistent and divine principle that appears to permeate almost every faith tradition. All of our teachings, commandments, principles and ceremonies should be enablers to living against this essential teaching.

For a while I had wanted to try to be a “Mormon Universalist;” to live with my conclusions while still attending Mormon services. That desire was part of why I embraced my calling. To live in a way that was both true to my conclusions and respectful of the community and traditions of the people I associated with.

In the end, it’s hasn’t been possible. There is too big a gap between my perspectives and those taught in the church.

An earlier version of this letter included the detail of the things I no longer agree with or believe and why I started the process of investigation and evaluation at all. I’ve decided to not impose those on you. If you’re interested, let me know and I can send you the longer version with the detail included.

I recognise that you, and many of my friends and family, might worry about me being deceived or misguided.

All I can say is that I don’t believe I am. I’ve prayed and pondered over these conclusions and their implications. I’ve spent more time on this question than any other in my entire life. I recognise the seriousness of the implications of my faith transition. I realise that if Mormonism’s absolutes are right then I’m moving away from something essential. I simply don’t believe those absolutes. If there is a God who answers prayers, and my past experiences encourage me to believe that there is and that he does, then he has also answered my prayer. If my previous spiritual experiences are reasonable a basis for making life decisions, then the experience I had earlier this year while praying in the Celestial room at the Temple should also be an adequate basis for making the decision to move away from full activity within Mormonism.

I know I will miss the weekly experience of meeting with the Mormon community. I will also miss going to the Temple. I still consider that to be a “sacred space” and to be an environment for learning about my place in the world and my relationship with the divine. I’m sad that my conclusions mean that I won’t be able to attend but also respect the church’s reasons for expecting certain standards for going there.

I have no desire to shake your faith. I don’t want to undermine the church or people’s attendance there. I have no certainties or absolutes, so with that in mind I recognise that your beliefs might still be right – or, at the very least, right for you. The God that I believe in, or hope for, is one that celebrates and accepts all of humanity’s commitments and religious dedication – as long as it leads them to be better people and to be of service to the their fellow human beings.

Please feel free to ask me any questions you might have. I understand that this will cause you concern. I appreciate your care and sincerity in feeling that way. Please don’t feel like you need to rescue me or correct my conclusions. At the same time, if you feel you’d like to share your perspectives or express your concerns about my choices then I am willing to listen. I recognise that this might make you feel uncomfortable or awkward around me. Like I said at the start, I really hope we’re still able to maintain a friendship and good relationship.

What is life's priority... Is it knowing or loving God... and is either really possible?

I recently read an article by Dan Peterson, "Reason, Experience, and the Existence of God."

In the article he addresses the question of how to come to know and love God. In doing he juxtaposes two answers to the question: "what is our first duty" or "what is the greatest commandment"

Is it:

"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."

Or is our first duty to God:

"Speculative reasoning which leads to knowledge of God, because He is not known intuitively or by the senses. Thus, He must be known by reflection and speculation."

Who or what is God? If the first priority is to love God and if God is not currently self-evident then the first priority is to know who it is you need to love. Put another way, someone might say that in a marriage, loving your spouse is your first priority. If you're not yet married then it clearly isn't. Your first task is finding and knowing that spouse before you can love them. So too with loving God.

The two questions above aren't really an either/or proposition. Clearly we need to conclude who God is before we can consider loving God. Whether through logic or intuition, religion invites us to know God. While many religions teach that God is a multifaceted being it seems people discover him/her/it/them in many ways, or rather only discover certain aspects or facets of him (for convenience, I'll stick with 'him').

Whether he chooses the particular aspects of himself that he wants us to discover or whether we simply select characteristics to build gods in our own image is still a question I don't have a conclusive answer to. Ultimately, it seems that neither logic nor intuition is an effective method for knowing the "true" nature of God because the process leads to so many 1000s of contradictory definitions, certainties and conclusions. To take one simple and relatively non-confrontational example, does God a body or not? He can't have both a body and not have a body. It must be one or the other. Whichever it is, millions of sincere truth seekers have used both or either logic and to reach conclusions that are in opposition. Both methods are proven unreliable by nature of the fact that both methods lead to contradictory conclusions.

Instead, it seems to me, that either logic or intuition only provide the "useful" picture or description of God. Perhaps, when we come to know and love God, we are really being guided, by ourselves or by God, to love something in or about ourselves.

Some of the interesting conclusions in the book 'How God changes your brain' is that how you see God activates or rewards certain parts of your brain, depending on your perception of him (or her/it/them). The authors' theory suggests to me that an influence on how we see God is from how we are predisposed to see him. In other words, the part of our brain that is most active or most seeking to be activated could be having an influence in how we ultimately perceive and then love God. Perhaps we are really learning to love an aspect of ourselves. I'm not saying that's a solely organic, internal process. It's quite possibly being guided by a divine external influence.

Whichever it is, it seems that neither logic nor intuition ultimately take us to a state of really "knowing" and instead guides us to state of "being." Given the fruit of "being" is widely and vastly different I return to my conclusion that the exploration of "who is God," through logic or intuition leads is to that which is useful, not that which is established to be true.

As such, the rest of the article seems a little redundant. It's arguing between two methods of "knowing" despite the fact that neither method can demonstrably lead to an absolute knowledge of what is absolutely true. It can lead to personal certainty, which we might describe as knowledge, but it really, at best, only leads to certainty.

I don't agree with Qadi ‘Abd al-Jabbar that, "Knowledge of God can only be gained by speculation with rational argument" But I'm not sure that intuition is a more effective alternative.

Talking of intuition, or revelation, as a source for knowing Dan Peterson says, "...even if we doubt that such a revelation has ever actually been received by anybody anywhere, we can easily conceive (at least in principle) of a divine self-disclosure so powerful that it would eliminate all doubt and essentially, at least for the recipient herself, render further intellectual investigation of the question of God’s existence rather frivolous."

The key to this statement is: "at least for the recipient." The experience of Blaise Pascal coming to know God is beautifully articulated: "Certitude, certitude, feeling, joy, peace."

This is really the crux of the matter. Coming to know God, particularly coming to know him through intuition, is not a matter of knowing, it's a matter of reaching personal certitude and personal peace.

Peterson goes on to give some good arguments for intuition or spiritual revelation being a far better source of knowing God than logic and reason. If a choice has to be made between the two, I can agree that intuition is a better way of coming to an understanding or conclusion of who God is and how we should love him. Logic and reason alone don't seem to be a viable way of coming to know something or someone that is so intangible and uncertain. But that doesn't mean that God should be illogical and unreasonable.

C.S. Lewis is quoted as asking, "...are we sure that He is even interested in the kind of Theism which would be a compelled logical assent to a conclusive argument?" Firstly, I would paraphrase Lewis to ask the question, "... are we sure that He is...?" If one answers "Yes," "I think so" or even "I hope so" then it would be nice to think that this conclusion of God was also logical.

I agree with Peterson's conclusion that "(r)evelation... should never be detached from rationality." I don't, however, see that even the combination of these approaches leads to anything conclusive beyond a personal perspective.

Peterson talks of the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Life (SETI) and the desire to receive radio signals for a third party source to prove, conclusively, that we are not alone in the universe. Receiving such a radio signal would prove the existence of extra-terrestrial life. "Just as," Peterson suggests, "an unmistakable revelation directly from God would render every debate about his existence moot."

This is an unfair comparison. A radio signal could be examined and tested by multiple third parties. There would be a single transmission with multiple opportunities to evaluate it and examine it. Not so with "unmistakable revelation directly from God." There are 1000s of examples of people claiming this... and yet no-one has yet produced a revelation from God that is truly unmistakable. No-one has offered a revelation that can be evaluated and examined under consistent circumstances by a third party.

Here are seven different examples of religious "radio transmissions." They are first quoted with the religious cues removed. Later they are quoted without redaction, but I think it's important to first read them without knowing the religion, scripture or deity they "know" the truth of:

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1) "I asked <DEITY NAME> for a sign to show that the <RELIGION NAME> has the whole truth...
One day, I was sitting under a tree, thinking deeply. I was trying to recall some <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> verses on <DOCTRINE> and praying about a doubt that I had. Suddenly, a miracle happened to me. It was like a light that I could not exactly figure out. It shone on me and took away the doubt in my mind. It seemed that the darkness in my mind was lifted. The <DOCTRINE>, which I could not at first accept, suddenly became very clear me. I could then accept it with my mind and heart. Since that incident, each time I read the <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>, that former opinion to oppose and the refusal to believe and accept were gone. Today I believe <DOCTRINE>.
...Now I know and am confident that this is the end of my search for the whole truth. I thank <DEITY NAME> for answering my prayer and giving me a sign. I have found the whole truth of my <RELIGIOUS OBJECTIVE>. Glory be given to <DEITY NAME>. <RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION>!!" 

2) "I had the feeling of waking up, as if all my previous life I had been asleep. The printed words on the page of the book seemed like the surface of a vast and fathomless ocean of truth and wisdom. Whatever it was, I knew that it was completely true and infallible. Therefore the author must also be true and infallible. The <DESCRIPTOR> book, which I still have, was <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>." 

3) "In mid-August of 1969, I humbly knelt in the shadows behind my barracks and prayed. I told <DEITY NAME> that I had read the book that <RELIGION NAME> say is from Him. I admitted that there were some good things in it and that I wanted to know if it was true.
I closed my prayer in <DEITY NAME>. No sooner had I done so than I received the most powerful witness that I have ever experienced. It was not the answer I was seeking. But I had asked, and now I knew. <RELIGION NAME> was the only true church on the earth! I knew it; <RELIGIOUS EXPRESSION>."

4) "I will never forget <RELIGIOUS PRACTICE>. At 17 I read <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>. But not only did I read it I thought about it's beautiful teachings of <DEITY NAME>. I then prayed sincerely to <DEITY NAME>. I asked him for that confirmation that <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> was true. I will never forget the sweet, humbling answer that came. I knew <DEITY NAME> loved me and I knew that Yes <DOCTRINE>.  ...<DOCTRINE>. <DOCTRINE>, it's tangible. It's for everyone!  ...My testimony is real. It's mine, I have forged it out of the fire. It makes me really happy!!" 

5) "After months of study and research I could not deny the truth anymore. I had put it off too long, but was still living the life I had before, and knew that if I became a <RELIGION NAME> I had to give all that up. One day while reading <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>, I began to cry and fell to my knees and thanked <DEITY NAME> for guiding me to the truth. I found out that there was a <RELIGIOUS BUILDING> by my house so I went one <RELIGIOUS DAY> to see how <RELIGION NAME> prayed and conducted their service... A man got up and began to <PRAY>. When I heard it my eyes filled up with tears because it sounded so beautiful. It was all so strange at first, but seemed so right at the same time. <RELIGION NAME> is not just a religion but a way of life." 

6) "As I was skeptical of anything other than the Bible, time passed before I actually began reading <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>...  I began with <SECTION OF BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> and quickly read to where <DOCTRINE>. I was blown away. I had never heard of the things I was reading; I didn't even know that <DOCTRINE>. I already knew and loved <DESCRIPTION OF DEITY>, but through <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> I began to fall in love with <DESCRIPTION OF DEITY>. Still, I was not convinced that <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> was really true; I fought with my old mental tapes regarding the infallibility of the Bible - 'Thou shalt not add to...,' etc. My old beliefs were being challenged.
I put <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> down for several months, and then a devastating thing happened. My father died in a truck/train accident on May 1, 1980. After the initial shock and grief, I was angry that <DEITY NAME> would take my father at this time of his life; he hadn't even been able to retire! Then I started reading <SECTION OF BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>. The peace I felt after reading them convinced me that the teachings in the book were genuine. They were too beautiful to be anything else.
Since then I have grown enough in understanding to realize that <DOCTRINE ABOUT DEITY NAME>. I know that my earthly father's soul <AFTERLIFE DOCTRINE>. I need not worry about his salvation. Most comforting of all, I believe that as soon as I get to <AFTERLIFE NAME> I shall see my father in person." 

7) "She told me she had come across a book that I might like, though she herself could not understand it.  [the friend tells of <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>'s divine origin]  ...Something inside me knew that was true and I wrote down the name of the book... 

I found myself thinking about <DEITY NAME> and what little time I had given to learning about him. Suddenly, the room was filled with a warm and glowing light. I felt so strange, as if I had received the gift of faith right at that moment, as if I had been 'born again.'

...I came home and had such tremendous urges - to read <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>, to join a church, to learn everything I could. I called different churches at random, went to the library, and got some books on <RELIGIOUS LEADER>, <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>, world religions, <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>, even <BOOK OF SCRIPTURE>.
That same day I called <RELIGIOUS CONTACT> and told him how I felt. He suggested I read <RELIGIOUS SCRIPTURE> but to start with <SECTION OF BOOK OF SCRIPTURE> this time. I read for about five hours without stopping and <RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE> I knew that every word I was reading was the truth. It was exciting to finally believe in something, to have faith in <DEITY NAME>!"

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I wonder how many people could read those and identify the religious scriptures and "radio signals" that delivered those experiences and certainties? Certain expressions, even after redacting, might sound familiar to a practiotioner of one religion or another. We naturally develop certain idioms that are recognisable. Outside of those, the overall conclusions and experiences, from multiple different religious practices, seem very consistent.

Before reading on, try to compare whether the personal "radio signals" are significantly different in method or conclusion.

Here are the quotes in full:

1) "I asked the Lord Jesus Christ for a sign to show that the True Jesus Church has the whole truth...
One day, I was sitting under a tree, thinking deeply. I was trying to recall some Bible verses on baptism and praying about a doubt that I had. Suddenly, a miracle happened to me. It was like a light that I could not exactly figure out. It shone on me and took away the doubt in my mind. It seemed that the darkness in my mind was lifted. The doctrine on infant baptism, which I could not at first accept, suddenly became very clear me. I could then accept it with my mind and heart. Since that incident, each time I read the Bible, that former opinion to oppose and the refusal to believe and accept were gone. Today I believe that infants must be baptized in order to be saved.
...Now I know and am confident that this is the end of my search for the whole truth. I thank the Lord Jesus Christ for answering my prayer and giving me a sign. I have found the whole truth of my salvation. Glory be given to the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Hallelujah!!"
Religion: True Jesus Church (Source) 

2)"I had the feeling of waking up, as if all my previous life I had been asleep. The printed words on the page of the book seemed like the surface of a vast and fathomless ocean of truth and wisdom. Whatever it was, I knew that it was completely true and infallible. Therefore the author must also be true and infallible. The small red book, which I still have, was The Hidden Words."
Religion: Baha'i (Source)  

3) "In mid-August of 1969, I humbly knelt in the shadows behind my barracks and prayed. I told God that I had read the book that Latter-day Saints say is from Him. I admitted that there were some good things in it and that I wanted to know if it was true.
I closed my prayer in the Savior’s name. No sooner had I done so than I received the most powerful witness that I have ever experienced. It was not the answer I was seeking. But I had asked, and now I knew. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the only true church on the earth! I knew it; I dared not deny it."
Religion: LDS (Source) 

4) "I will never forget putting Moroni's challenge to the test. At 17 I read the Book of Mormon. But not only did I read it I thought about it's beautiful teachings of the Savior. I then prayed sincerely to my Heavenly Father. I asked him for that confirmation that the Book of Mormon was true. I will never forget the sweet, humbling answer that came. I knew my Heavenly Father loved me and I knew that Yes I can live with my family forever.  ...I have a Savior. Forgiveness is real, it's tangible. It' for everyone!  ...My testimony is real. It's mine, I have forged it out of the fire. It makes me really happy!!"
Religion: LDS (Source) 

 5) "After months of study and research I could not deny the truth anymore. I had put it off too long, but was still living the life I had before, and knew that if I became a Muslim I had to give all that up. One day while reading the Qur'an, I began to cry and fell to my knees and thanked Allah for guiding me to the truth. I found out that there was a Mosque by my house so I went one Friday to see how Muslims prayed and conducted their service... A man got up and began to call the Adthan (call for prayer). When I heard it my eyes filled up with tears because it sounded so beautiful. It was all so strange at first, but seemed so right at the same time. Islam is not just a religion but a way of life."
Religion: Islam (Source)

6) "As I was skeptical of anything other than the Bible, time passed before I actually began reading The Urantia Book...  I began with 'The Life and Teachings of Jesus,' and quickly read to where Jesus had reached the age of 23. I was blown away. I had never heard of the things I was reading; I didn't even know that Jesus had brothers and sisters. I already knew and loved the divine Jesus, the Son of God, but through The Urantia Book I began to fall in love with the human Jesus, the Son of Man. Still, I was not convinced that The Urantia Book was really true; I fought with my old mental tapes regarding the infallibility of the Bible - 'Thou shalt not add to...,' etc. My old beliefs were being challenged.
I put The Urantia Book down for several months, and then a devastating thing happened. My father died in a truck/train accident on May 1, 1980. After the initial shock and grief, I was angry that God would take my father at this time of his life; he hadn't even been able to retire! Then I started reading the mansion world papers. The peace I felt after reading them convinced me that the teachings in the book were genuine. They were too beautiful to be anything else.
Since then I have grown enough in understanding to realize that God does not take our loved ones, that the accidents of time just happen. I know that my earthly father's soul had plenty of 'mercy credits'. I need not worry about his salvation. Most comforting of all, I believe that as soon as I get to the mansion worlds I shall see my father in person."
Religion: Uranthian (Source)  

7) "She told me she had come across a book that I might like, though she herself could not understand it.  [the friend tells of the Urantia Book's divine origin]  ...Something inside me knew that was true and I wrote down the name of the book...
 I found myself thinking about God and what little time I had given to learning about him. Suddenly, the room was filled with a warm and glowing light. I felt so strange, as if I had received the gift of faith right at that moment, as if I had been 'born again.'
...I came home and had such tremendous urges - to read The Bible, to join a church, to learn everything I could. I called different churches at random, went to the library, and got some books on Edgar Cayce, the Dead Sea Scrolls, world religions, The Koran, even The Talmud.
That same day I called Mr. Dychko and told him how I felt. He suggested I read The Urantia Book but to start with the Jesus section this time. I read for about five hours without stopping and my Thought Adjuster must have responded because I knew that every word I was reading was the truth. It was exciting to finally believe in something, to have faith in God!"
Religion: Uranthian (Source) 

All of the above are seven of several hundred personal testimonies from dozens of different faiths collected on Testimonies of Other Faiths.

While all of those divine "radio transmission" have lead the individual to a level of certainty, none of them are conclusive beyond the recipient. If God is the source of all of those radio transmissions, then apparently he is comfortable telling people contradictory messages. He his happy teaching truth and untruth. If some of those transmissions are correct and the others are simply personal, but not divine, experiences, then whole method is flawed. Peterson claims that "certainly an indubitable and spectacular revelation would obviate the need for secular, rational proofs." Unfortunately religion, in its entire multi-millennial history, has never produced an "indubitable" transmission. It may be that the "recipient of that revelation" feel an absolute certainty - enough to entirely remove personal doubt but it bears no resemblance to a true radio signal that can be experienced and evaluated under the same circumstances by multiple different people.

In the end, knowing God and therefore loving God, becomes an entirely subjective and personal experience. Whether that understanding and therefore love of God comes through logical or intuitive methods seems immaterial.

Perhaps the whole question of knowing and loving God becomes such a subjective and intangible pursuit that it gets in the way of the second advice in Jesus' commandment - loving ones neighbour. Perhaps it's even more difficult if that neighbour's process of reaching a conclusion about God leads to such a strongly contradictory conclusion that loving the neighbour becomes difficult. Perhaps, in the end, discovering the best way to know and love humanity has far greater merit than the unreliable pursuit of creating an intangible and often contradictory image of God.