Below is a post I started writing a month ago. I haven’t been sure if I should share it. It gives some insight into why I haven’t posted anything in just over four months. I think I will if only to show that Christianity isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. It isn’t all confidence and certainty. There are times when it gets really difficult. I wonder how many wrestle with their faith at some point. There were times over the past few months when I would pick up the Psalms and read David’s words. That guy went through some dark nights of the soul! He wrestled with doubt and questioned the reality of God’s goodness. In reading those words, I knew I wasn’t alone. So here it goes:
Lately, I have been wondering if Church is really worth the effort. I have wondered if Christianity is worth the effort. I have given more then two decades to the cause. It has been two decades of blood, sweat and tears. I put my hand to the fire and I have gotten burnt.
Pain is part of the process. You’re on a journey. Perhaps. Perhaps quitting is part of the process, part of my journey.
I want to quit. Does that surprise you? Who admits to that? I feel like I have reached my spiritual bottom. I know we’re not really supposed to talk like this. Not publically anyway. Especially not in the Charismatic stream of Christianity to which I belong. Publically we speak of overcoming victory, joyful celebration, of confident hope, of unwavering faith, of family. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. It is only in our private meetings do we whisper our truth to one another. We are scared. We are confused. We are unsure. We are frustrated. We feel alone.
It terrifies us to admit these things. We shout down our own fears with rehearsed phrases we’re not sure if we even believe anymore. Our admonitions ring in one another’s ears like clanging symbols.
Maybe It’s because I am an INFJ, but I cannot keep playing that game. I cannot pretend anymore.
So I will speak my truth right now. I am not going to use cute phrases about vulnerability. I am not going to steal quotes from a book or sermon. I am not going to spiritualize, or neutralize. I am not going to feign answers that I don’t have.
This is real life. Let the blood I spill speak to you.
I am disappointed. I am hurt. I am angry. I am disillusioned. I am broken.
Does it frighten you to read those words? Would you rather I kept it to myself? Would it be better to wait until I’m on the other side of it, before I share anything? This is my experience right now. It’s not a cry for help. It is an awakening.
Will I walk out on Church? I’m not sure. Will I quit Christianity? I don’t know.
People wrestle with their faith all the time. In the middle of that wrestling match, it can feel like you’re alone out there, in the wilderness. Other people seem so certain in what they believe. So confident in how things will work out.
It is hard to show up when you think it’s just you. One lost soul in the crowd of swollen confidence.
People might downplay it as just a journey you’re going through. They may simply chalk it up to a mental condition. You could be judged to just need to “have more faith”. Or worst of all, they may try to give you answers that they don’t actually have.
Sometimes we just need to sit with people, to hear them out. We don’t have to have all the answers. I know that I don’t.
Jesus once said that if you had faith the size of a tiny mustard seed you could make a mountain move. I guess that goes for hope as well. I think that faith and hope are intertwined. Some days you may only have hope the size of mustard seed. Some days that’s all it takes to hold on. To not quit. To not give up or give in.
Jacob wrestled with God all through the night. As the sun rose he walked away with a limp. It is in the wrestling that we are humbled. No longer proud children scoffing at other people’s doubt. We understand. We empathise. We know. We know the struggle. We know what it is to be broken. To be lost.
Never again will pride have the same allure.
Do I still contemplate quitting? Sometimes. But hope keeps me returning.