Why People Believe, Why They Change

Introduction

It must be the case that both in China and overseas, there are groups of devout religious believers. They come from different backgrounds and have different family circumstances, yet they all firmly believe in something that cannot be proven by theory. There are countless faiths in the world, and the scope of what is called "theology" to study is also very broad, such as (primitive) Christianity, Islam, the Illuminati, and "Korean cults", among others. These religious sects differ in their beliefs—some even hold contradictory ones—have conflicting living habits, and there are even conflicts regarding the most fundamental questions like "what is a human being?", "why do humans exist?", and "how did humans come into being?"; in more utilitarian terms, there are conflicts about "what truth people hope to gain at the cost of believing in religion".

However, for religious believers, even when objective problems or facts exist, their faith remains unshakable and will not be swayed by any "objective truth". Why is this the case? How do they maintain such firm faith? Is it possible that each of us might become a devout follower of a certain religion in the future? The answer—whether "yes" or "no"—is a personal choice, but the fact is that a large proportion of people in the world are devout believers.

We know there are generally two types of devout believers:The first type includes children born into religious families and those whose values have truly been transformed by religious doctrines. Their worldview is built on faith, and they constantly consolidate their beliefs through daily awareness in their lives. They are highly unlikely to proactively accept research or new developments that contradict religious teachings (such as Salafism). Since they avoid engaging with or reflecting on issues outside their faith, they are unable—or lack the ability—to distinguish the truth from falsehood in their beliefs.

The second type consists of people who have experienced specific events (e.g., being the sole survivor of a house fire) or have suffered repeated setbacks in life. They are often filled with inner anxiety or timidity, so they integrate religion into their worldview to find explanations for everything while seeking spiritual support. These individuals may unconsciously or deliberately refuse to reflect—they may actually be capable of recognizing the unreliability of religion, but such recognition would plunge them back into anxiety. To avoid this discomfort, their brains may strengthen existing beliefs, thereby solidifying their faith. When others question their beliefs, they may tend to react with intense anger or fear, which mainly stems from the anxiety already rooted in their hearts.

However, those who truly build their values on a religious foundation (i.e., the first type of people mentioned above) may be relatively tolerant of different voices. For example, for us whose values are established under materialism, if someone says to us, "Physics is fake and controlled by aliens," we might regard them as foolish. But if they say, "You are all ignorant, and so was Newton—you must stop believing in physics," we would probably get angry too, right? Because such words make us feel challenged and offended.

But there are some others. I mean no offense by using Muslims as an example—even Muslims who were baptized shortly after birth may feel hostility and subconscious contempt toward non-Muslims. This does not mean that all Muslims are inherently ugly or fragile; instead, it stems from differences in values. For instance, under the education we received from childhood, we subconsciously consider killing and stealing as very bad things. For Muslims, disbelief in Allah and eating pork may be similar to such "bad things"—these acts are inherently wrong in their values. Therefore, sometimes their hostility is not entirely out of malice or fragility, but may simply result from differing values.

We have no way to change others' values, nor do we have sufficient evidence to prove that others' values are wrong. What if truth really exists? What if physics is really just a tool used by sages to test believers? We have no way to completely deny such possibilities either. Therefore, it is very important not to restrict others' perceptions with our own, provided that we do not infringe on each other's boundaries.

Returning to the main topic, generally speaking, for those who truly regard faith as part of their values, it may be relatively easy to persist in it. However, it is undeniable that there are still many people who view religious faith as something similar to a tool, using it to soothe their inner troubles. Some people give up secular life and choose to retreat to the mountains and forests after achieving success; some are not born into religious families but join a religion proudly and willingly despite their relatives' opposition, and live a "rule-abiding" life ever after; some seek out a master and go to the mountains to practice for a period of time when encountering setbacks in life... Such ideas are not necessarily bad, of course, on the premise that they do not offend others. Driven by their own needs, these people abide by religious traditions and norms more or less, and some even try to fully integrate into the religious world to gain the complete spiritual experience that the first two types of people obtain from religion.

For believers, what is the basis of their "belief"? Have they really received divine instructions, so that they have been firmly convinced from a certain moment onward?

1. Innate Believers

1.1 Faith Formation in Childhood

Tracing the entire process of the establishment of religious values, the formation of faith marks the starting point of religious adherence. Some people are born into religious families, and from birth, the foundation of their values is built on religion—this may also be what we perceive as the "most orthodox" origin of a believer. However, there are others: regardless of who they were before, many people will "suddenly attain enlightenment, withdraw from secular life, and choose an entirely different way of living." While converting to Islam may be somewhat difficult and require exceptionally strong conviction, it should be relatively easy to enter a religion if you choose to convert to Buddhism, achieve spiritual enlightenment that Christ is the only Lord, or join a folk religious organization on a friend’s recommendation.

During a child's preoperational stage, which is approximately between the ages of 2 and 7, their thinking is concrete, magical, and egocentric. They are incapable of complex abstract logical reasoning. Therefore, the "deity" or "God" they understand is often a highly concrete and anthropomorphic being—a "grandfather" with superpowers, who looks human and lives on the clouds. They may think that God physically resides on the roof of a church, or that God is in the room listening when they pray. They cannot grasp abstract theological concepts such as "omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent".

However, this image of an invincible deity is of great significance to the formation of our faith. First and foremost, it is crucial for providing believers with a sense of security. For God knows all our pains, grievances, and struggles. We do not have to fear being misunderstood, feeling lonely, or being helpless, because there exists a being who fully understands us. Meanwhile, God has the power to change any difficult situation. Even in the most desperate moments, there is the possibility of a "miracle" occurring, which offers immense hope. Secondly, God is always with us. No matter where we are—on the battlefield, in the hospital ward, or in the wilderness—we can receive companionship and support. This promise of "never forsaking" is a powerful source of psychological comfort.

But such benefits hardly take effect on children, for the foundation of positive influence lies in internal understanding. Then why do children often exhibit an extraordinarily strong sense of religious faith? On the surface, children may be overly innocent—like how they would excitedly throw a lost tooth onto the roof beam when young, or pretend to sleep on Christmas Eve but actually keep their eyes half-closed waiting for Santa Claus. However, there are actually many physiological and psychological factors behind this phenomenon.

First of all, all of us deeply believed in what our parents said when we were young. For religious children, parents and religious leaders (such as pastors, Sunday school teachers) are absolute authorities in their world. When these most trusted people talk about something with unwavering certainty, children have neither reason nor the ability to doubt. Their belief, first and foremost, stems from trust in authority.

Moreover, children have an intense longing for a sense of belonging when they are young. Just like when we were little, we valued our friends greatly, and cherished friendship far more than we do now—this is a reflection of the desire for dependence. (As for the reasons, they first relate to evolutionary and biological roots. Human infants are the most vulnerable among all animals and rely on their parents for the longest period. An infant abandoned has absolutely no chance of surviving independently. This absolute physiological dependence has, over millions of years of evolution, engraved "fear of separation" and "seeking closeness" into our genes. Meanwhile, a sense of belonging is the cornerstone of psychological development. The famous psychologist Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs classifies "needs for love and belonging" as basic needs second only to physiological and safety needs. This means that once children have enough to eat and wear, their most urgent needs are love and belonging. Young children have a very vague perception of their own value, abilities, and identity. They need to understand themselves through feedback from others, especially family members. For example, preschoolers often ask their parents, "Am I good-looking or are other kids cuter?" If parents give an affirmative answer, they will form the core belief that "I am cute and valuable.") Getting back to the topic, if a sense of belonging is crucial for a child, the religious activities they frequently participate in (going to church, celebrating festivals, attending rituals) are intense family and community experiences, so these activities allow them to feel positive emotions. Singing, listening to stories, and doing the same things with everyone else bring a strong sense of security and belonging. What children "firmly believe in" is often this feeling of being accepted and loved, as well as the religious identity bound to it.

Finally, because children’s ability to process things is not yet rational enough, they are more inclined to believe in warmer answers. Religion provides simple and warm answers to some grand fears (such as death, separation, loneliness) ("Good people will go to heaven", "God will protect you"). This can effectively alleviate children’s anxiety, and such emotional comfort is a powerful driving force behind their firm belief.

1.2 Value Reconstruction During Growth

Building on these foundations, children will accept religious stories (such as the Creation story, miracles) as literal, true historical events. Just like believing in fairy tales, they will not question their metaphorical nature or scientific validity. This is clearly not the kind of faith we usually perceive. During the transition from childhood to adolescence, children will inevitably encounter many confusions—for example, when you were in middle school, you must have wondered, "Are my parents always right?" The outcome may vary from person to person. Religion is no different: when children reach a certain age, they will also develop doubts about their faith. Usually, such doubts stem from the maturation of their rational faculties and the so-called rebellious psychology caused by hormonal instability.

For instance, when they witness human suffering firsthand, will they doubt whether God is truly merciful? Suppose a child who was baptized from an early age and never did anything wrong in his life. While praying in the chapel, an earthquake struck, and the building collapsed. He was buried under the rubble—not dead, but severely injured. He seemed to hear his mother’s voice nearby, sounding equally tormented. In the days that followed, he could not tell if he was alive or dead. He listened as his mother’s comforting words faded away. Was his mother rescued, or did she die before him? He would probably never know. Carrying these questions, he died in a hazy state, much like how he came into the world. Had he done any evil in his life? It seemed not. Then why didn’t Jesus choose to love him?

Any believer would struggle to justify such a thing. They might find reasons, such as "God is testing His followers," or simply say, "You must not doubt God." But a feeling—anxiety, perhaps—will linger in their hearts for a long time. After prolonged doubt, some people can truly find a way to convince themselves, and from then on, they enter the realm of adult faith. Others will make changes to their beliefs: the extent of these changes ranges from converting to another religion to modifying minor doctrines, but their supernatural-centered values remain unchanged. Still, there are those who simply abandon their faith, and their values will then solidify after a genuine upheaval.

1.2.1 Struggles with Doubt

For such people, after their faith has solidified, the troubles they face boil down to the continuous commitment to upholding their faith and the inner pressure that comes with it. For us, we might even think, "As long as I believe, I’ll go to heaven and live eternally after death. But if I don’t believe, I’ll go to hell forever. Life is just a few short decades—what’s the harm in enduring it?"

On this matter, if there really was "something beyond my imagination, so much so that I can’t describe it with rational language" that solemnly promised me that if I believed sincerely, I would surely attain a happy, worry-free eternal life—maybe even sign a contract that’s valid in heaven too—then perhaps I really would believe. After all, the ROI here is quite high. But for those believers, what else do they have to rely on for their faith besides a few lines of text in their respective religious scriptures and the somewhat "deceptive" persuasion of missionaries? On what basis, exactly, am I supposed to believe? This is a rather important question. Not only is it crucial for successfully PUA-ing oneself into unwavering belief and suppressing thoughts that might lead to hell, but it’s also a key tactic religious groups use to recruit new members.

Some religions seek to draw more people in, or rather, hope that "truth" will enter more people’s hearts. A convincing and logically consistent promotion is harmless and beneficial for recruitment. After all, there are few "lobbyists" like Nietzsche—full of passion but without any supporting arguments. Most would prefer to persuade others with rational words. Yet in this process, first and foremost: when you attempt to make an argument, haven’t you already considered the possibility that the doctrine might be false? If you’ve never pondered the possibility of its non-existence, how could you find a starting point to argue for its "truth"?

For example, if you ask a toddler who has just learned to speak to prove their own existence using purely rational language, requiring them to understand all the words used and answer within a time limit, it’s obvious the child can’t do it. They might have never even considered the "possibility of their non-existence." Presumably, they would just think: "Huh? I already exist. What do I need to say? I just do exist." This serves as evidence: if a believer is also a philosopher or writer, and they believe in a faith without ever doubting it, they will certainly be unable to use the so-called "logically rigorous and ingenious ‘Euclidean geometric’ approach combined with causal reasoning" to prove the existence of their faith—a thing that seems utterly normal to them.

This thus shows that when so-called geniuses like Descartes and Aquinas tried to prove the existence of God in their "genius ways," they actually ended up proving the opposite. Take Christianity as an example: God is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, and He will bless His believers. Aren’t Descartes and Aquinas themselves believers? After all, they spent so much time just to vindicate God. But how could an omnipotent God allow His believers to even conceive of the "possibility of His non-existence"? What good would that do Him? First, believers would feel terrified and uneasy; second, God might lose newly converted followers. A God as wise as He is supposed to be wouldn’t do something with no benefit, right? Doesn’t that mean God isn’t all that omnipotent after all? If He can’t even handle such a trivial matter, how can He guarantee that I’ll go to heaven? After all, such a being seems rather incompetent yet quite good at deceiving (just kidding).

(But I’m sure one could refute me with arguments like "You, an ordinary person, can’t possibly understand God’s intentions," or "God’s purpose is good—He just chose a way you can accept to bestow His grace" (though this is quite similar to the concept of the Trinity). However, since I’m writing this essay in relatively rational language, I certainly can’t refute remarks that oppose my arguments using concepts like "awe" and "supernatural" as weapons. After all, we’re not operating on the same plane of natural reasoning, are we?)

After Descartes and others, there were scholastic philosophers who tried to explain and prove God’s existence using philosophy or other rational means. The problem is, they all used arguments that seem logically consistent from a rational perspective, and "proved" that God indeed exists in the way they thought was correct. Yet their arguments often can’t withstand Socratic questioning—there are certainly plenty of flaws in their conclusions or reasoning processes.

The existence of these loopholes is not a major issue in itself. As Hegel might have argued, as long as humanity continues to progress, and each generation of theologians, philosophers, and scientists builds on the achievements of their predecessors, they will eventually arrive at the supreme truth. And isn't this truth precisely the meaning of life that believers seek? However, if it is called the "supreme truth," it should encompass all doubts and difficulties. This implies that there can only be one such truth. But which religious doctrine does this truth align with? After all, the doctrinal differences between different faiths are quite significant.

Take Buddhism as a broad example: although asceticism is a foundational requirement for joining the religion, Exoteric Buddhism (including Theravada and Mahayana) teaches that "monks must observe complete celibacy, while lay practitioners must adhere to the precept against sexual misconduct." They oppose overly intimate physical contact between men and women. However, sects like India's Shaktism and Tibetan Buddhism's Vajrayana (with practices such as "Hevajra Tantra") regard sexual union as an important and effective spiritual practice. (Of course, there is a saying in Tibetan Buddhism: "If others imitate me, they will fall into the demonic path.")

But if the truth were to reveal itself one day, its stance on the issue of sexuality could condemn a large portion of Buddhist believers to the deepest levels of hell. This means that being a devout believer carries considerable risk. Sometimes, even if one strictly follows the teachings of their master throughout their life, they might not only fail to be reincarnated into paradise but also accidentally be utterly destroyed. This is truly more thrilling than gambling.

This indicates that our beliefs lack credible and convincing foundations. Meanwhile, religious doctrines contain content that contradicts the reality accepted by the general public. Furthermore, one might even have to bear the possibility that the doctrine they have believed in their entire life is contrary to the truth. Under all these circumstances, it truly requires immense courage and determination to steadfastly uphold one's faith.

1.2.2 Inner Conflict

But in reality, none of the above is the most troubling thing. The true greatest difficulty for them lies in the torment and pain of the inner self. Let's put aside the overly mundane sufferings first, such as being unable to eat delicious food or fall in love—for I believe there must be people in the world who can abide by rules and precepts all their lives.

This is similar to the law: first and foremost, we firmly believe that it benefits us if everyone abides by the rules. For instance, we "hire" the government, so to speak, and employ social service personnel like police officers and judges to manage undesirable social phenomena such as robbery and murder. In this way, although we sacrifice some freedoms—for example, giving up the freedom to kill arbitrarily—we also gain a lot, such as reducing the possibility of being killed by others.

Applying this logic to religious belief: some believers sacrifice freedoms like eating meat casually or lying in bed playing with their phones all day. In return, they may obtain what is called the "meaning of life"—being a good person in this life to go to heaven in the next—or inner peace, such as the Buddhist practice of secluding oneself in mountains and forests, free from worldly strife.

However, it is extremely difficult to strictly regulate one's inner thoughts. The inner world has always been a private domain, the only thing that temporarily cannot be peeked into or controlled by others, something that truly belongs to oneself. If you believe in Allah, who is omnipotent, how could Allah fail to perceive your inner thoughts? Even if you put on a good show—attending religious services, burning incense, and praying on time every day—yet think to yourself "This is so annoying, when will it end?" all the while, do you really think Allah will let you enter paradise? Probably not, after all, Allah is not a fool.

In other words, to be a devout believer, you truly have to give up everything about yourself—including the inner world, such a private and precious pure land, which now also has to serve God. Descartes said, "I think, therefore I am." Later philosophical schools like dualism and idealism all emphasize the importance of the inner self.

Human power is limited. We may never be able to explore the ultimate truth or answer the most important question "Who am I?" in our lifetime. But our current thoughts exist, and the ideas I have while writing this essay exist. So before we truly understand the answer, my thoughts are "me." The body is merely a carbon-based vessel; everything before our eyes may be an illusion, and every consciousness might even be imposed on us by others. But even if we are "brains in a vat," those pre-programmed thoughts constitute "me"; if we are like ants living in a three-dimensional space, mocked by beings from four-dimensional or even five-dimensional spaces, then everything I see and feel in the three-dimensional world is "me"... Without independent thoughts, what would "me" be? This body? But people will eventually die: the brain will stop functioning, the flesh and bones will carbonize in the soil and become part of the earth's layers. Only our thoughts at every moment are real—we cannot confirm the accuracy of past memories, nor can we be certain that predictions about the future will truly come to pass... To think pessimistically, everything we possess is nothing but our current thoughts.

Yet believers strive to make every moment of their thoughts perfectly align with religious doctrines. You lose your sense of self, and the meaning of living becomes "seeking the meaning of living." When your heart is weary, the process of "self-healing" will be replaced by panic and guilt over the moment of slack you just had.

For example, after working 14 hours straight, you might feel overwhelming resentment. You might say to yourself inwardly: "It's okay, work is nothing." Then you cry a little, sleep well through the night, and perhaps become a positive and motivated employee again the next day. Why is that? Because when humans are under great stress, the pituitary gland secretes a hormone that puts the body in a "fight-or-flight" state. Crying, shouting, or similar actions reduce the concentration of this hormone in the blood, which relieves stress from a physiological perspective.

But what about believers? They also feel immense stress and exhaustion, yet they cannot relieve stress in the ways mentioned above. After all, "the gods are watching from three feet above," and the divine is observing everything. Do you dare to cry, or even curse Christ inwardly? Wouldn't that make you feel more guilty and increase your inner pressure?

Well, this forms a perfect cycle: stress keeps accumulating without any release. It's like a company where the boss and an employee share the same brain. Although both intend to make the company better, the employee's stance is to do less work and get more money, while the boss's ideal is to hire employees who work extremely hard for very little pay. No one does anything that is completely unbeneficial to themselves—benefits include material things like money, as well as psychological rewards such as praise from the boss or others. There must be conflicts of interest between any two people, not to mention that "sharing one brain" means you can't even think bad things about the other party. But there's no "other party" here; it means a person both wants to get paid and doesn't want to get paid, both wants to work and doesn't want to work.

In reality, we might think such a person is a lunatic with split personality. But some believers face this kind of inner conflict. They may feel twisted and struggling inside, yet helpless with no one to turn to. One can well imagine just how great their inner pressure is.

2. Converts

2.1 Faith Construction in Converts

That’s all I have to say about the orthodox believers born into religious families. Now, let’s move on to those who convert to religion later in life.

In both novels and real life, we may have heard of people who indulged in drinking and gambling in the first half of their lives, but after experiencing major events—such as the death of a loved one or a life-threatening moment—they abandon everything, embrace asceticism, and become utterly free from desires, as if they were a completely different person. They often come across as having an almost ethereal, "dry ice-like" aura. But why is this generally the case?

Officially speaking, although modern life is materially abundant, many people feel a sense of spiritual emptiness and meaninglessness. Religion provides a grand, ready-made framework of meaning that answers ultimate questions about the purpose of life, suffering, and death. For adults going through life crises, feeling lost, or experiencing loneliness, the answers offered by religion are highly appealing. Alternatively, in a world full of uncertainty, religion provides a sense of absolute certainty and order. Sacred doctrines, precepts, and plans (such as "God’s will") can offer explanations and structure to a chaotic life, alleviating anxiety. In other words, after living in modern society for a long time, people feel exhausted by the rat race and are confronted with the towering specter of nihilism. To put it simply: everyone will die eventually, and most lives are as light as a feather—rarely does anyone’s life carry the weight of Mount Tai. Slaving away one’s whole life might only add a little to one’s lot, and even that "little" is only yours for less than a hundred years, not much longer than the validity of a property deed.

Some people might think: "Then I’ll just quit the rat race." Converting to religion means free meals and even a monthly stipend of a few hundred yuan—on the surface, that sounds like a great deal. Of course, not everyone is this materialistic. There may truly be people seeking the truth of life, and when they attend a religious lecture, they happen to feel like they’ve found a kindred spirit, thus embarking on a long journey of seeking knowledge. People may convert to religion in different ways, but more or less, they are drawn to this kind of lifestyle.

There is also the possibility of emotional longing. Religious communities—churches, temples, or small groups—often provide a highly close-knit and supportive environment. For those who are estranged from their original families, feel lonely in the city, or crave deep connections, religious groups offer a strong sense of belonging, acceptance, and unconditional love. At the same time, joining a religious group grants a new, clear sense of identity. Becoming a "Christian," "Buddhist," or "Muslim" means sharing a set of values, behaviors, and worldviews, which can help individuals define "who I am"—especially when they are dissatisfied with their old identity.

To give an example: suppose I am a cisgender woman with bisexual identity. One time, when I went to a church to sketch the stained-glass windows, I happened to meet a warm-hearted pastor. He talked to me about life’s great truths, which deeply moved me. I thought, "This is simply the truth!" I felt that I had never been understood in secular society, but the atmosphere of this church made me feel at home. After entering the church, everyone was kind to me—a feeling I had never experienced before. It was as if I had finally grasped the so-called "meaning of life." First and foremost, we should respect everyone’s gender identity, provided that it does not disrupt society. The subject in the example chose to convert to religion because of the positive emotions evoked in that context, which fully reflects the emotional value that religion can provide.

Values vary from person to person, so even a detailed discussion can hardly cover all scenarios. Therefore, I’ll skip further elaboration and move on to the crisis of faith faced by those who convert later in life—their risks are far greater than those of orthodox believers.

2.2 Challenges After Conversion

2.2.1 Temptation of Secular Life

First, there is the ability to resist external temptations. Presumably, anyone who has used a smartphone or enjoyed scrolling through short videos can understand that under the influence of computer algorithms and AI analysis, it is extremely difficult to block content and visuals that quickly stimulate the brain in a short period. For instance, even though I clearly know I should be reviewing my lessons right now, I still can’t help but swipe my finger to watch the next short video. I even feel that the torment of hesitation during video-scrolling outweighs the relaxation and pleasure the content itself brings. This trivial and common occurrence in daily life is enough to illustrate just how appealing secular life can be to people.

However, for those who aspire to become devout religious believers, they have already experienced the wonderful pleasures of secular life. Yet from the moment they choose faith, they must eliminate all distracting thoughts, focus wholeheartedly on contemplating, understanding, and engaging with sacred teachings. Isn’t this process boring? When they first convert, memories of vacationing with friends, attending parties, or listening to music at bars in the evening may resurface... Comparing those moments to their current daily routine of tedious scripture recitation, copying sutras, praying, and eating ascetic meals, wouldn’t they feel a tinge of nostalgia at the very beginning?

Some might argue that for believers, their inner faith can surpass the urge for secular life. But take smartphones as an example: addiction stems from physiological changes. Just as gamblers can’t help but pull the lever of a slot machine, while using a phone, the next thing you swipe to might be a video liked by a friend, a boring advertisement, or an important email... This random reward mechanism triggers the secretion of dopamine, driving us to seek the next reward. Unlike traditional reward systems—where dopamine secretion decreases after obtaining a reward—phones seem to offer an endless supply of rewards. Moreover, amid the sensory impact of phone sounds and visuals, we barely need to make any mental efforts or expend energy. As a result, our dopamine levels remain consistently high.

In contrast, religious practices—such as achieving enlightenment through reading scriptures, or eliminating distractions to enter a state of deep concentration during meditation or worship—require the cerebral cortex to bear a relatively high load. Additionally, for some people, immediate gratification (such as playing video games or satisfying taste buds) often triggers more dopamine secretion than future-oriented fulfillment (such as attaining immortality or ascending to heaven).

For another group of people, however, prolonged short-video scrolling 反而 fails to interest them. Due to the fragmented and highly stimulating nature of short videos, the human dopamine system easily becomes desensitized. Whether dopamine desensitizes easily depends on innate genetic factors: genes determine the baseline quantity and function of dopamine receptors, as well as dopamine metabolism efficiency. Some people are born with a more sensitive or fragile dopamine system, making them more prone to desensitization. For example, certain variants of the ANKK1 and DRD2 genes are associated with sensitivity of the reward system and susceptibility to addiction. Meanwhile, individuals born with low baseline dopamine levels may be more inclined to seek external stimulation to boost dopamine, thereby increasing their risk of overuse and subsequent desensitization. Due to excessive brain stimulation, some people actually lose interest in short videos—a form of entertainment that relies on brain stimulation to attract users.

Religious activities (such as prayer, meditation, and rituals) also activate the dopamine system, but in a different way: religion provides regular rituals and phased goals (such as fasting and scripture recitation), reshaping dopamine release patterns through delayed gratification—shifting from random, high-frequency stimulation to predictable spiritual rewards. For instance, during prayer, we concentrate our minds to enter a state of "flow." When we are in a state of tranquility, the dopamine system secretes small, continuous doses of the hormone. If we also set goals—such as not getting distracted during daily prayers, or adhering to daily worship or prayer for a month—this sustained low-dose dopamine secretion makes it easy for us to persist in these simple practices initially. Achieving small goals further triggers hormone secretion and a sense of fulfillment, marking these behaviors as meaningful through hormonal responses and reinforcing them. Ultimately, the sense of fulfillment largely stems from the achievement of ultimate goals.

At the same time, in the early stages of abstaining from secular activities, we will also experience discomfort. Persisting in a challenging task (such as starting a vegetarian diet or chanting scriptures) is itself a mild form of "stress." When you face stress head-on and achieve your goals, the brain releases endorphins as a reward. Endorphins induce a state of "calm joy," "profound satisfaction," and "relaxation after pain" (a "runner's high" is a typical example). This feeling is more lasting and fulfilling than the fleeting excitement driven by dopamine.

Furthermore, dopamine system desensitization is not permanent. If we cease intense brain stimulation for a long time, the downregulation of the system can be alleviated and reversed. As stimulation decreases and the receptor system gradually recovers, our receptors become more sensitive—leading to the experience of gaining more joy the longer one maintains their faith. However, it should be noted that dopamine secretion may also decrease over time. Whether the increase in sensitivity outpaces the rate of decreased secretion varies from person to person, and a balance between the two is also possible.

In other words, in the early stages, believers are not simply using inner faith to resist psychological impulses; in many cases, innate physiological conditions determine psychological responses. Therefore, whether one can pass the first hurdle and truly dedicate themselves to spiritual practice as a devout believer also depends on innate conditions.

2.2.2 Test of Time

But some might say, "It’s just about upholding religious precepts every day, like how parents restrict our phones during final exams. As long as we yearn for heaven as much as they hope for good grades, and rely on external discipline, we can endure it, right?" Clearly, this conclusion fails to consider the relative length of time involved.

First, as a devout believer, one must strictly abide by religious doctrines from morning till night, day after day, year after year—from the moment they embrace faith until death. This is not like some entrepreneurs who, after achieving fame and success, start practicing Buddhism by burning incense in the morning and bowing three times at night, while still living as secular "haired" people during the day. For believers, however, there are rules for the morning, rules for eating, and special requirements for sleeping. There is no such thing as "rest time," because "faith" is their life—without labor, how can there be rest? Suppose your life consisted solely of watching your phone, standing up the entire time, with no breaks except for eating and sleeping. Even if the phone content was fascinating, this would become painful, wouldn’t it? Yet for religious practitioners, they must also maintain unwavering piety and joy in their hearts at all times; otherwise, they would be failing to "revere Allah."

For someone just beginning to live by religious precepts, this lifestyle may feel novel. Why is it that people can feel great interest in new things, even if they are somewhat arduous or monotonous? When we develop a motivation due to various objective factors—such as "I will follow Allah all my life, perform the five daily prayers, and oppose polytheism and social conditions that hinder the spread of Allah’s teachings on earth"—our brains secrete dopamine. (Dopamine is crucial for our exploration of new things and human reproduction.) This dopamine triggers feelings of anticipation and curiosity. Explaining this through hormone secretion may seem inconsistent with the idea of faith as a "sudden divine revelation" and even somewhat utilitarian, but one could also argue that hormone secretion itself carries a divine nature.

Additionally, upholding one’s faith can be an enormous challenge, and overcoming challenges is a powerful temptation for the human brain—similar to Nietzsche’s concept of "will to power." As a result, the prefrontal cortex, anticipating the satisfaction and joy of achieving the goal, becomes highly activated. This explains why, in the early stages of converting to faith, even a person who has always been lazy can overcome the temptation to sleep in and wake up early for worship.

Yet we all know that after the initial enthusiasm fades, the hardest part is maintaining long-term commitment while preserving that original passion. Once the lifestyle becomes familiar, the initial novelty wears off, and dopamine secretion decreases accordingly. Meanwhile, basic skills—such as the recitations and praises used in worship—are mastered, and we gain a preliminary grasp of religious rituals and doctrines. Acquiring new knowledge and skills gives us a sense of accomplishment, but after mastery, most of what follows is repetitive practice that requires no cognitive challenge. Naturally, the prefrontal cortex no longer remains highly active.

Furthermore, one may hit a plateau, during which positive emotional feedback becomes less immediate. Physical fatigue and boredom—mediated by other neurotransmitters and hormones like adenosine and cortisol—begin to take over, making it easy to feel annoyed by, or even resist, the strict rituals and rules.

To sustain their faith and avoid feeling disrespectful to the sacred in their hearts, believers need to find joy in the monotonous religious life. For example, Christians might repeatedly read stories of Jesus Christ’s unconditional love and sacrifice, attend collective worship, join group prayers or hymn-singing, or listen to organ music in the church every afternoon to relieve stress. Such activities promote the secretion of oxytocin, fostering a strong sense of belonging, security, and trust. This allows believers to gain modest, permissible, daily instant gratification in their repetitive routine—becoming motivation to uphold their faith.

However, two major challenges arise in this process: first, whether these mild neural stimuli can suppress the boredom caused by other neurotransmitters; second, whether the dopamine generated by these mild activities (to sustain faith) can overcome the temptation of more stimulating activities (such as electronic devices or secular pursuits). While the idea of focusing inward to savor such peaceful joys and avoid secular stimuli sounds ideal, the effectiveness of these daily religious activities—and the extent of their effectiveness—depends on the believer’s "spiritual state." Physiologically, this translates to:

Dopamine receptor sensitivity and density: Individuals with more sensitive or denser receptors can derive sufficient interest and motivation from even minor stimuli.

Serotonin levels: People with higher serotonin levels tend to prefer calm, predictable activities (like reading or gardening), while those with lower levels may seek more stimulation and adventure to alter their state.

Genetic combinations: Some gene combinations make people more likely to persist through difficulties and thus discover deeper joy in a field, while others make people more prone to giving up and seeking the next easily rewarding goal.

In this sense, believers’ ability to "seize the moment" appropriately for satisfaction while upholding their faith is conditional. Even some practitioners of esoteric sects or fundamentalist groups endure psychological or physical pain to "atone for sins"—whether their endorphin levels are sufficient to alleviate pain or even derive pleasure from it also varies by individual.

The difficulty of sustaining faith differs for everyone, but those with all favorable physiological conditions are undoubtedly a minority. Thus, for most people, becoming a believer with a clear conscience is both challenging and contingent on certain opportunities and conditions.

Ending

In the end, I want to say that religion is a very interesting and profoundly abstruse discipline. The Kena Upanishad of India took shape as early as the 12th century BCE, a time when the Iron Age had not yet truly arrived. What religion brings to the world may be the tranquility and happiness derived from faith, or it may be the bloodshed and violence of political wars waged in the name of religion. In fact, what the sacred religious texts truly instruct varies with people's interpretations. If one reads them with a kind and world-benefiting heart, all truths will surely be about filling the world with love.