Book 3, chapter 8
“I—I never heard of anybody being able to do stuff like you can, Ivy. People . . . can’t fly, and . . . I don’t know. How can you do stuff like that?” . . . “Are you a witch or something?” . . . “I was afraid . . . having those powers meant you had to be a witch, and . . . in the Bible it talks about witches.” . . . “Witches are in league with the devil, and they do all kinds of nasty things, and I didn’t want to think you were like that. I really wanted to like you.”

Ivy admits that she has no idea what witches actually do, but that she thinks she’d know it if she was one. She explains thusly:

“I think I’m talented, kind of like a gymnast or an artist . . . but my ‘gift’ is in a different form, ya know? I don’t think it’s bad, because a lot of times I use it to help people, and . . . I don’t see how I could be in league with the devil and still do good things. You understand?”

Engaging in a weird little reassurance to herself, Ivy privately talks to a stone statue of Jesus in Ami’s living room:

“Hey, I’m not a witch, okay?” . . . “And I’m pretty much a good person. But if you’re God, you know that.”

This incident comes up again in a conversation with Weaver:

Book 3, chapter 17
“I just have this friend who’s really Christian, and she suggested maybe I get my powers from worshipping the devil.” . . . “I mean, I don’t know where my powers came from or how I got them, but I sure didn’t worship any devil.”

Weaver gives her this little gem:

“Well, I’m pretty sure that in their Bible it says something about anybody with extra powers being a witch . . . I guess some of them get by with saying they’re prophets if they devote their ‘services’ to the lord.” . . . “The Christians have never been known as a group for their tolerance.”

Weaver explains some of the basic tenets of the Christian religion to Ivy, including the bits about going to Hell and believing in the Bible. He compares and contrasts it with other religions, which fills her in a lot but also puzzles her as far as wondering how Weaver even knows this kind of thing. She presents a problem to him:

“I never really understood why people have a problem with me. Maybe it’s because of that whole God thing, ya think?” . . . “It’s not like me being able to fly stops them from worshipping their God, ya know? Why don’t they just believe what they want and leave me out of it?”

They exchange a few comments that really enlighten Ivy as to how religion figures into even her detached life:

Weaver: “So you understand why nobody in our house is very religious?”
Ivy: “Wow, I guess so. If they were real religious . . . they’d probably hate us!”

Weaver: “Don’t ever try fitting yourself into a religion, Ivy. It’ll only depress you.”

Ivy: “If there’s a God He wouldn’t think I’m bad.”
Weaver: “The thing about humans is, they assume God is as judgmental as they are.”
Ivy: “I mean, if God is all-knowing, He knows I’m not getting any powers from Satan.”
Weaver: “Yeah, but try making regular old everyday humans believe that.”
Ivy: “Why do people have to think that just because I’m different it must be bad, like with worshipping the devil?” . . . “Wouldn’t it make more sense that I was . . . I guess gifted by God or something, rather than Satan?”
Weaver: “They see it as unnatural, Ivy, that’s all there is to it. They see themselves as the good ones, and if you’re different, you must be the bad one.” . . . “If they believed you were gifted by God, they’d have to wonder why they weren’t gifted by God too, since they were such devout worshippers and you weren’t. In the Christian Bible it says something about how Satan will try to tempt you with earthly rewards, and I guess your power would be a pretty good earthly reward. So the only option left is to believe you’re worshipping the devil, since regular people don’t have your powers.”

Ivy also has very little understanding of how religion figures into celebrations, especially when she’s invited to a Christmas party and her basic understanding is summed up here:

“And Jesus is the guy who invented Christmas?”

Zeke is an avowed atheist, so it seems odd that he would be the one coaxing Ivy to come to a Christmas party. He tries to explain it to her why he’d want her to come to a supposedly religion-based party:

Book 3, chapter 15
“Because of the other half of Christmas.” . . . “Around Christmas, people start being nice to each other. Of course, some of it is fake, because some people are fake. But a lot of it is genuine good will. Around Christmas, families get together more, they eat together, they stay at home together. And usually, that’s a good thing. Families should be together.” . . . “I know you don’t really have a family, Ivy, and I invited you to this party for a lot of reasons . . . one of them is so that you can experience what it’s like to have Christmas with a family, even if it’s not your own. And I should know, it’s something you don’t want to miss.”

Ivy does not go on to explore any religion for herself, but she is confronted by Nicholas with the concept of a different sort of God:

Book 4, chapter 33
“Lives have purpose in a grand plan. God writes our lives and directs how events intersect.” . . . “God writes every second of our lives. There is no way to do something he does not want us to do, because he would not write it.”

When she says that’s silly, he invites her to disprove him, and she can’t do it. His belief in predestination frustrates her, but it does get her thinking. Some very unlikely things have happened to Ivy, and some of her chance meetings (especially meeting Nicholas) have been almost ridiculously unlikely. Besides that, Adele gives her some interesting insights:

Book 4, chapter 37
Ivy: “I guess he thinks God makes us do everything . . . do you believe it?”
Adele: “Not exactly, but in a way.” . . . “The future must be in the works somehow before it’s happened. Otherwise I could not see into the future.” . . . “It is almost as if it were being planned somewhere before it happens . . . and for some reason I have been chosen by the planner to witness some of it. Our creator beta tests in my head.”
Ivy: “Beta what?”

Ivy does not come to any conclusions about God in this book either, but she is willing to admit that perhaps a supreme being exists. Sometimes she thinks her life is too silly and illogical to be planned, but other times she feels it couldn’t be otherwise:

Book 4, chapter 6
“Every once in a while it strikes me to wonder why I’m like this.” . . . “I sometimes feel like I’m . . . too perfect to be a freak of nature.” . . . “You might have noticed I have really good eyesight, right? So do eagles. ’Cause we both fly.” . . . “And because I fly a lot, I also spend a lot of time out in the sun. But have you noticed how pale I am? I don’t ever wear sunscreen. . . . Why don’t I get tanned, or burned?” . . . “I eat fattening food but I stay under a hundred pounds. I’m really resistant to cold temperatures, like up in the sky where I like to go. I have a really good sense of direction. All this stuff makes me fit together like a puzzle, sort of like someone thought me out before making me.”

Ivy’s other brushes with religion involve baby-sitting Jewish kids (one of whom gets offended that she asks about their family’s lack of a Christmas tree) and talking to Miss Margaret about her vaguely Pagan philosophy (she believes in elemental influence, Earth spirits and faeries, and folk magic). She also meets a girl who calls herself a witch in Book 5 (Monique), and learns some things about Wicca from her, though she also doesn’t believe in these things. She hears some of the basic tenets of Weaver and Dax’s “religion” at one point (though she has to bully it out of Weaver), and she learns about some New Age practices from Natalie’s group. All of this has an influence on her, but does not take root as a belief or a lifestyle for her.

To sum up, Ivy has no idea what or who God is and follows no religion, but her mind is open:

Book 4, chapter 44
I thought about whether this was really God’s creation. Could it really be? Everyone had their own ideas of who and what God was and what He wanted, but just for an instant, I was convinced God had made the world just for me, and I whispered a brief but utterly sincere “thank you.”