I believe in God, but in my own unconventional way. We're not

In the words of Sarah Jessica Parker: “I believe in God, but in my own unconventional way. We’re not affiliated with any organisation, and I have no religious education of any kind, but I definitely have my own kind of ideas about it.” These words reveal the timeless struggle of the human soul: the search for the divine beyond the walls of temples, beyond the rules of tradition, beyond the boundaries of organisation. For faith is not always found in schools or sanctuaries—it is often born in the secret chambers of the heart, where questions rise like prayers and answers whisper like wind.

The ancients themselves wrestled with this truth. Socrates, though condemned for “corrupting the youth,” spoke not of gods carved in stone, but of an inner voice, a daimon, guiding him toward truth. He was without official religious education, yet his faith was unconventional and deeply personal. His belief did not rest upon the rituals of Athens but upon the living dialogue between man and conscience. In this way, Parker’s words echo across the centuries: the divine is not always captured in ritual, but often discovered in the intimacy of one’s own soul.

History offers us further witness. Consider Blaise Pascal, the great mathematician and philosopher. He mastered science, yet he confessed to a burning, personal encounter with God that could not be confined by creed or doctrine. Though he lived within the Christian world, his “night of fire” was deeply personal, unshaped by formal instruction, unbounded by institution. Like Parker, he held his own ideas about the divine, a testimony to the fact that the path to belief is as varied as the stars in the heavens.

Such unconventional faith does not diminish the sacred; rather, it reveals that the divine is too vast to be captured by a single system. Some find God in the chanting of monks, others in the stillness of a forest, others still in the laughter of children or the rhythm of daily life. What matters is not the uniformity of belief, but the sincerity of the search. To believe, even outside the lines of education or organisation, is to affirm that the human heart is restless until it finds meaning beyond itself.

And yet, let us not mistake this for dismissal of tradition. Ritual, community, and sacred teaching are powerful guides, and countless souls have been nurtured by them. But Parker’s confession reminds us of another truth: the divine does not belong to one people alone. The Creator, if truly infinite, cannot be confined to any single organisation or formula. Faith, therefore, may be lived both within and beyond tradition—always personal, always alive.

The lesson is clear: honor the path of others, but do not be afraid to walk your own. If you have no formal religious education, let curiosity be your teacher. If you are not bound to an organisation, let awe and wonder be your congregation. Seek God in the rising sun, in the silence of reflection, in the acts of kindness that ripple through your days. Build your faith not on fear or conformity, but on the living dialogue between your soul and the mystery of existence.

Therefore, O seeker, remember this teaching: the form of faith matters less than the fire of sincerity. Whether you kneel in a temple or sit alone beneath the sky, whether you read sacred texts or simply listen to the voice within, what counts is the authenticity of your search. Believe as Parker believes—in your own unconventional way if need be—and let your life itself become the scripture others may read. For in the end, all paths, whether ancient or personal, point toward the same horizon: the longing of the human spirit to touch the eternal.