Good forum.
I am a Christian, raised a Protestant, at home pretty equally in small, rural Methodist and Baptist churches. I gravitated more firmly to the Baptist church, lost connection for a good many years, but chose it more rationally in later years because the foundations of the faith (not necessarily those most often bandied about in the media) fit best my understanding of God, the trinity, and my salvation. I believe in the Scriptures, though by no means in the infallibility of our understanding of them.
Three decades in the Army accustomed me to associating with people of many faiths, as well as some with none at all. Many of my best friends were Catholics, including my very best one. Serving in the Middle East, I gained at least a slight understanding of, and and appreciation for, Islam. My closest friend for a year in an Army service school, and a good friend for years afterward, was a Buddhist from Nepal. My younger sister married a Jew, now deceased. By his own choice, he was buried in the cemetery of the small country Methodist church where I grew up, because he said he felt most at home there.
All of this is by way of saying I have come to believe that we are all a vast army of pilgrims, trying with imperfect understanding to find our way. It is not for me to dictate limits for God's power or restrict the number of paths He may have laid out for us. While I believe the only way for ME to God is through Jesus, I have no idea what plans God might have for other people who've been brought up in other beliefs. I feel that, as a Christian, I am obligated to be as tolerant as the one whose name I use for my identity.
As I may have mentioned in other threads, my daughter grew up attending, first, Army chapels and then, later, mostly Baptist churches. She attended a nominally Baptist college, was called to the ministry, graduated from a Methodist seminary, and was ordained in the Baptist church. Oddly, given that we live in the middle of traditionally Southern Baptist territory, where women preachers are generally not looked upon with favor, she was called as pastor of a small Baptist church. After five years there, she married a fellow Baptist preacher and seminary professor. They moved north and became co-pastors of an American Baptist church.
We never encouraged her to go into the ministry. We were not a notably devout family, except for her. That is, we were never leaders in the church, just church-goers. Her calling was clearly a matter between her and God, without intervention by her parents. In many ways, she led us rather than our leading her. Some of the religious tolerance I try to practice, I learned from her.
This is a rambling dissertation, meant to say that I feel I am continuing to grow in faith, certain of very few things, but convinced that as I continue to search, more keys to this life and what is to follow will be revealed to me. And comfortable in the conviction that many things are beyond my ability to see or understand, but are understood perfectly by my God.