A Different Faith, A Shared Home Poem by James Haedle

-Reflections on Love, Conviction and the Woman I May Meet-

I have often wondered whether two people must look towards heaven in exactly the same way to build a home beneath it.

For years, I have observed Islam with a curiosity that has outlived passing interests. I have read, listened, questioned, and occasionally found myself defending principles I do not necessarily profess as my own.

Perhaps it is human nature to admire what we do not fully understand. Or perhaps understanding another man's conviction sometimes reveals something we have overlooked in our own.

I remain a Christian.

Not merely by inheritance, although my ancestry carries four generations of Methodist faith on both sides. I remain a believer in Christ by personal conviction. It is a faith I have no intention of abandoning.

Yet I have come to appreciate certain things about Islam.

The discipline of prayer.
The consciousness of God in ordinary living.
The devotion to fasting.
The emphasis on family.
The reverence for marriage.
The seriousness with which faith is introduced into the upbringing of children.

I have watched a religious culture place considerable importance on things that modern society sometimes treats as negotiable.

And I have found myself reflecting.

What exactly am I looking for in a woman?

Perhaps I have grown less interested in the excitement of finding someone and more interested in the possibilities of building something with someone.

I think about companionship, but beyond companionship, I think about responsibility.

I think about a woman who understands that marriage is not merely an arrangement between two people who happen to be attracted to each other.

It is an institution.
A responsibility.
A promise that must survive the changing seasons of human desire.

I want a woman who appreciates family, who understands loyalty, who finds beauty in modesty and strength in commitment.

A woman who knows that freedom and responsibility are not enemies, and that equality need not mean the absence of complementary roles.

Perhaps this explains why my attention has increasingly wandered towards the women I encounter within Islamic communities.

Not because I believe every Muslim woman possesses these qualities, nor that women of other faiths lack them.

But because I have found certain values within that tradition worthy of admiration, and I would like to understand the woman who has grown within them.

There is, however, a contradiction I cannot pretend away.

I believe in Christ.

She may believe in the prophethood of Muhammad.

I believe Jesus is divine.
She may believe Him to be a great prophet and Messiah, but not God.

We may open our scriptures and arrive at different understandings of the same heavens.

And what then?

Must affection surrender to doctrine?
Must conviction become an obstacle to companionship?
Must one person diminish their beliefs to accommodate the existence of another?

I do not think so.

But neither do I wish to pretend that our differences are insignificant.

There are things I cannot ask her to surrender, just as there are things she may never ask me to deny.

I would like to accompany her to the mosque, to understand the devotion that moves her, to listen and learn.

And I would hope she could sit beside me in church, understand the faith that formed me, and appreciate the testimony of a man who has found his convictions in Christ.

Not as an obligation.
Not as a performance.
But as an expression of love and an interest in understanding the person beside her.

Perhaps the greatest test would come with children.

I would want them to know the faith of their father, just as I would want them to understand the faith of their mother.

I would want them to know the Bible and understand the Qur'an, to appreciate Christmas and Eid, to understand why their parents pray differently and why both consider their relationship with God sacred.

I would not want to raise children who inherit prejudice in the name of religious certainty.

Neither would I want to raise children who mistake every disagreement for a contradiction that must be feared.

Let them ask.

Let them question.

Let them discover that their parents do not agree about everything, yet have found reasons to respect one another.

And if one day they choose differently from either of us, I hope we will have the wisdom to love them without making their convictions a measure of our success as parents.

Perhaps this is an idealistic imagination.

Perhaps the world is less accommodating than the home I have imagined.

There will be families to answer to, traditions to negotiate, religious authorities to consider, and moments when love alone may not provide an immediate answer.

But I would rather enter such a possibility with honesty than spend a lifetime wondering whether two people could have built something beautiful despite their differences.

I am not looking for a woman to rescue me from my convictions.

Neither am I looking for one whose convictions I must rescue her from.

I am looking for someone with whom I can remain myself while discovering more of the world through her.

Someone who can teach me without feeling threatened by what I already know.

Someone who can disagree without becoming disrespectful.

Someone who understands that devotion to God should not become permission to mistreat the person standing beside us.

And perhaps, somewhere, there is such a woman.

Perhaps she is reading her Qur'an tonight, while I reflect upon my Bible.

Perhaps she has never imagined that the man she may eventually love would come from a different religious inheritance.

Perhaps she too wonders whether love can find room for differences that generations before us have struggled to reconcile.

I do not know where our paths will meet.

I only know that I am no longer interested in pretending to want something different from what I genuinely desire.

I want a home with faith at its centre, affection in its corners, discipline in its habits, laughter in its rooms and understanding in its foundations.

I want children who inherit conviction without inheriting hostility.

I want a marriage where neither person has to disappear for the other to feel secure.

And if such a woman exists, I hope she understands that I am not asking her to abandon her world to enter mine.

Perhaps we can build a new one.

Not by pretending that our differences do not exist, but by having the courage to understand them.

For I have come to realise something:

Two people do not have to worship in the same building to understand the importance of devotion.

But they must be honest about what they believe, courageous enough to respect what they cannot agree upon, and willing to build a home where neither faith nor love is used as a weapon.

Perhaps that is the kind of love I am searching for.

Not a perfect agreement between two souls.

But an honest understanding between two people who have chosen to walk together.

-James Haedle