This has been a season of doubt. I recognize the title of this post and the first sentence alone has probably caused some of you to wonder if I’ve gone down the wayward path, or gone off the deep end, or whether I still identify as a Christian. My answer is yes, to all of the above.
The last couple of months have been scary, and I haven’t been sure who I can talk to about it. I’ve felt a deep loss and yearning for my former, (slightly) less curious churchgoing self, who took Scripture for granted, who jumped headfirst into most of Sunday School and church with a widely-accepted joyful, but vulnerable posture that communicated “I have it together — but only in the sense that I am deeply aware of my brokenness.” I miss that girl. I miss all the questions she didn’t think to ask.
I don’t know how to explain what happened. I started the year with this deep thirst to know God and to know Christianity — I wanted to hear the history of the church; I wanted to know when and where and why each book was written; I wanted to go to seminary; I wanted to preach and teach and lead; I wanted to write and write and write so people would know my sweet Jesus. I realized in order to do this, I had to ask questions — lots of them.
At some point, the questions began to outnumber the answers. I had deconstructed some of the Christian frameworks that I’d been taught, but I hadn’t reconstructed a replacement framework fully, and I felt my foundation teetering. I still feel this way, sometimes.
I don’t even know if I’m ready to write down all my questions — yet. I discovered that many others were asking the same types of questions I was, and it scared me a little that while many of them were and are content with the mystery of the unanswered, I couldn’t (can’t) shake that feeling that I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. While I felt the comfort that I wasn’t alone in my doubt, I also felt pissed that these doubting strangers had ripped me out of the safety and sanctity of my childhood faith.
Some wise psychologists have identified that anger is typically a secondary emotion hiding our primary emotion. In other words, if you feel angry, ask yourself: what is my anger covering up? So after a few emotional breakdowns, I realized that I wasn’t angry at my core — I was sad. I felt a loss. I felt immense swells of grief for my faith, sometimes appearing in the middle of the workday, where it would take everything in me to suppress the tears and screams brimming at the surface. It’s okay. I think. It’s okay. Plus, you have 100+ emails to handle. Get back to work.
That said, I’ve also just been 100% angry. Jealous. Envious that everyone at church seemed to have no trouble believing; frustrated that God wouldn’t just work in my heart to help me believe. I’ve felt foolish for judging my non-Christian friends who have let me know “they tried to believe but [Christianity] wasn’t for them” — but mostly angry that they weren’t wrong for feeling the way they did.
I’ve doubted the authorship of the Old Testament, some of Paul’s letters, the formation of the early church creeds, the historical Adam & Eve, the established Biblical canon, the defined role of women in the church, the church’s rejection of gay marriage, and a handful of other things — but of all the things I couldn’t shake, I could not — and still cannot — shake the reality of Jesus Christ.
Jesus is as real as it gets. I’m not just talking about his historical existence (that will maybe be another blog post), but his ever-present, constant, and unchangeable hold on my heart. No matter how hard I’ve tried (and trust me, I’ve tried pretty hard), I cannot deny who Jesus is. His compassion for the world, his sacrificial and unfailing love, his perfect sense of justice, his humility, his complete lack of anxiety in the face of suffering — I cannot help but continue to be compelled by him… and consequently, I cannot help but continue to be compelled by God.
Is this what happened when Jacob wrestled with the Lord?
Tonight our church hosted a prayer night. We prayed through the Lord’s Prayer, which has several parts:
Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy name.
[Adoration/Praise]
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done
On Earth as it is in heaven.
[Consecration/Advancement of the Kingdom]
Give us this day our daily bread.
[Supplication/Ask for provision]
Forgive us our debt, as we forgive those who trespass against us.
[Intercession/Confession]
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
[Protection]
I sat silently through the Adoration and Consecration sections. At some point, I felt a moderately poetic prayer emerging, but in my heart knew it wouldn’t be an honest one. I kept quiet.
Here’s the powerful thing about shutting up: generally, you have no choice but to hear what’s going on around you. As I listened to our church pray to God, I was reminded to meditate not on what I believe, but on who I believe. God, You are sovereign. God, You are worthy. God, You are just.
God, make us Your hands and feet. God, use us to bring Your love and mercy to the world. God, You are so good to us. God, we are grateful for You.
Thank you, church family. You shook the scales from my eyes tonight. When God seemed absent, He used each of you to repeat loudly, over and over and over to me, He has not let go of you yet. He is good. See how He is working in our lives.
Towards the end, one of my dear friends prayed a fierce prayer of protection against doubt that seemed to speak every fiber of my aching spirit into prayer: many of us in this room have experienced doubt. Sometimes doubts arise the deeper we go into Scripture, but protect us, Lord. Protect us from the enemy’s temptation. Protect us from the seeds of doubt — don’t let them take hold.
I’m also reminded of the encouragement of my other dear friends: God is big enough to handle your doubts. Or more colorfully: There isn’t some tiny man waiting behind a rock to pop out and say, “Ha! See? God doesn’t exist!” That will never happen. God isn’t afraid of your doubt.
So yes, I’ve doubted and grieved and thrown my devotional at a wall (well, figuratively).
But back in, I dive. I won’t stop asking questions, but I sure would like to stop being afraid of them. God’s got this.
I continuously wrestle with the image of God patiently waiting "outside the door" as we work through doubts. Perhaps this is a fallacy but I find when I think about my relationship with God in the context of my relationship with other people, I feel uncomfortable. If I was doubting the care or responsiveness of my spouse or friend, wouldn't it just further the divide for someone to tell me "your spouse isn't worried about your doubt, just keep diving in!"? If I felt my spouse withdrawing from me, I would be compelled by my love for them to even more actively pursue her. Sometimes it feels like God is held to a different standard. Which is maybe appropriate. I don't really know.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if we should think about our relationship with people in the context of our relationship with God instead. What you mentioned above is (clearly) something I struggle with too. I think the breakdown in the analogy is that there is a different power dynamic with God -- as our Creator, King, Father, Savior, He isn't held to the same reciprocities to which we'd hold another human. As I write that, I cringe a little... I don't think He is sitting off to the side, uncaring and detached from us. This is a little cliche, but I think in the same way we can't have light without shadows, we can't have faith without doubt. If God made all the answers obvious, then what would our faith look like?
DeleteThat sounds a little funny too though, doesn't it? But perhaps that's how it is. He is glorified regardless of whether we choose him, but he is pleased when we do choose, when we carry the doubt with us, and push through it, transform it, whatever imagery helps -- to get to Him.
I think your larger question is maybe... "why wouldn't He just come to us and make it really clear though?"
TBD on that one.
I have read this post many, many times. It reminds me of a Davidic psalm in journal form. Honest, hopeful, weary. Thank you for capturing an experience we all know well. Excited to continue to process together.
ReplyDelete