The answer is simple: because the 'd' word referred to within the American Church isn't 'damn'. It's 'doubt'.
Before you continue reading, take to heart the following words: as we travel through life, we all carry burdens, as if each of us has an invisible backpack strapped to our backs, sometimes lighter while other times heavier. While we are in the valleys, the burdens will seem heavier most likely, whether they truly are or not. On the other hand, being on the mountaintop can make burdens appear lighter, whether they truly are or not. Burdens: we all have 'em, and the rocks in our backpacks come in multitudes of shapes and sizes. As Christ-followers, we cling to the hope that one day our backpacks will be lifted up and off of our backs for good, and until then we keep on journeying, fighting our way through life with the sword of the Spirit in one hand and a shield of truth in the other, having each other as gifts of companionship and sweet community.
It's just a good reminder, and those words will also set the mindset for the remainder of this post.
Back to doubt.
Often viewed negatively by Christians, doubt is a much-feared concept, or at least that's what I have gathered from talking with other people about their experiences, as well as what I have personally experienced. Doubt is scary. Doubt is hushed. Doubt is evil, straight from the pits of hell.
Is this biblical, though?
Thomas doubted the resurrection. Abraham doubted God's promises. Peter denied Christ-three times.
So, merely based off of these examples (though there are many more), it seems safe to say that in some sense doubt must have a place in the Church, and I don't think it should be in regards to condemnation.
I'll return to this idea momentarily, but first to outline a couple of points regarding doubt:
Firstly, doubt contains potential to be beautiful, because it shows that a choice exists. This may be a strange concept, but consider it. An obvious choice exists between two options, and perhaps this is proof enough that a hope indeed does exist, that one is able to either choose it or deny it.
Secondly, doubt is inevitable. Each person doubts various aspects of life each day, and every believer doubts God each day, though it looks different for all of us. Once we, as the Church, grasp this, we will be able to respond in love to those who doubt differently than we do.
One of my favorite quotes is by Paul Tillich:
'Doubt isn't the opposite of faith; it is an element of it'.Much like James, the brother of Jesus, I have always been a skeptic, constantly questioning everyone and everything around me, always wanting to know what, why, when, and where. I grew up in the Church and heard the Gospel growing up, yet didn't accept it as truth until I was sixteen because I wanted my decision to be just that-my own choice, not made for me by anyone else or out of naive acceptance. I wanted to choose to be a Christian, and I wanted to understand why.
When I was nineteen, I had my first encounter with doubt, a deeper sort of questioning than I had ever experienced before, because this time, I couldn't find answers. What I can't comprehend scares me more than anything, or at least it used to, so when questions arose from my surroundings and my own mind that challenged what I so firmly believed, I freaked a little. For three months of my life, I lived like I was an atheist, because at one point I concluded that if I couldn't understand God, then I couldn't claim to believe in Him. What's strange is that my belief in Jesus didn't falter. Logically, I could reason why the word of the Gospel writers could be trusted, and I could explain completely why I believed in the resurrection. My faith was faltering not around these concepts but around questions such as, 'how can I believe in a literal interpretation of Genesis when my professors' teachings point away from the idea of a young earth?', 'how is it possible for an all-knowing God to coexist with human beings that have been given free will?', and perhaps the most pressing, 'why the hell does God allow people to go to hell?'. In my mind, it made more sense for a loving God to make His existence and Gospel truth so blatantly obvious that no person in their right mind would deny Him, resulting in hell being vacant of any and all of God's beloved humans. At the time, I thought that my own reasoning made more sense than God's. I thought that my own lack of understanding justified me denying the God that I had so passionately loved for so many years previous, because if He was a God unable to be understood, then He was a God unworthy of my worship.
How prideful, right?
Lastly, I began to doubt my actual experience of God, something that had never happened before in my life. Growing up, I believe that God revealed Himself to me in various forms, and as a Christian 'marked with the seal of the Holy Spirit', I believe that there are multiple instances in my life that I can look back and pinpoint as testimonies to God: to His divine intervention, to His tangible presence, and most importantly to His unconditional love. Even though for years I would've said that yes, these are examples of God's workings in my life, for various reasons during my phase of doubt I began to mistrust myself, because for the first time in my life, God was silent, or so it seemed.
When I was sinking in questions, the answers did not come in my timing.
When I was listening harder than I'd ever been before, the Spirit didn't speak.
When I felt alone and spiritually combatted, God allowed me to battle.
It was a dry time, and it didn't seem fair.
Looking back, I see that in my seeking answers, I was often impatient or prideful.
In my listening, I can see that I was actually testing God.
In my battling, I can see that God was actually fighting, because I eventually reached a point of deterioration.
A hard but beautiful concept to accept is that in this life, we will battle. The struggle is real, and oftentimes we don't understand why, but I think if anything else the answer is simply because it increases our dependency on God, for if we believe any truth it is that we cannot run this race of life on our own.
For three months, I lived like an atheist: I didn't read my Bible, I didn't surround myself with my Christian community, and I didn't intentionally pray. Then one night, after an argument with a dear friend (whom I had never before argued with), I broke down. I sat in my car and turned on the radio, inserting my favorite Matt Redman CD. Then, remembering that I was declaring myself an atheist, I hit the power button off, not feeling like I could listen to worship music if I wasn't going to claim to be a Christian.
In a hell that I had chosen for myself, I sat in my car and cried, and it wasn't because I had argued with my friend (though that sucked, too). I cried because I was outwardly denying what I inwardly could never deny: that my real friend, my ultimate friend, was waiting, arms open wide, for me to collapse into His embrace, and I couldn't even humble myself down enough to do it. Pride overwhelming me and fear controlling me, I had been running from God, the One friend that would never in a million lifetimes forsake me, because no matter what my circumstances, no matter what questions would arise, no matter what season I would enter into or what battle would come my way: His love would remain.
And I would never be able to make it through this life without it and the God who sends it down like rain on a parched and weary world.
I decided right then and there to surrender, to give in and wave my white flag, because even if my finite mind couldn't wrap itself around an infinite love, my soul could never deny it's existence, and I knew that I didn't want to live without it, because the love of God was, and is still, so much sweeter than anything I've ever tasted.
When I began this post, I had no intentions of sharing that much of my testimony, but I suppose someone needs to read it. I'm not sharing it in regards to matters of salvation (though I believe 'once saved, always saved' and in being 'marked by the Holy Spirit in Christ Jesus until the day of redemption', and if you'd like to discuss this theological concept then please email or Facebook message me). I'm merely sharing all of this to emphasize a point: doubt is a battle just like any other, and many people face it. Though my own running from God was difficult and living in darkness had never before been so tangible and challenging, what made my season so hard was not of my own causes; it was from those of others. The most painful part of it all was when people, when Christians, would dismiss my questions as silly or annoying, or even worse, when they would become fearful of them and declare my voiced thoughts and inner struggles as sinful or evil, as if any act I could perform would separate me from the love of God.
Let me pause here and insert: I'm not guilt-tripping anyone, nor am I bashing the Church. Firstly, I have forgiven anyone who I felt hurt by and have grown in my understanding of doubt and people's reactions to it. Secondly, there were infinitely more people who responded in love, who not only did not fear my struggles but joined me in them. One friend of mine went so far as to research many of my questions and interview pastors and theologians on my behalf, without me even asking for him to. Many people, even if they themselves did not understand my struggles and questions, did not shy away. They acted as the Church should, and they kept on loving.
This, eventually, is really what convicted me from the inside out, because I saw people that I was hurting love me anyway, and it didn't make sense. In the past God had drawn me to Him in more direct ways, but this time He was drawing me back to Him indirectly through the workings of other people's lives.
That's when it all came crashing over me like waves upon the sand: the love of Christ does not make sense, and that's what makes it truth. That's what makes it unique, beautifully beyond comprehension.
It's unconditional, and this is what we as conditionally-minded humans cannot understand.
(The Greek translation for unconditional love is 'agape', my first tattoo I got in high school-how ironic, indeed).
During my doubting phase, I was crying out for evidence, and though it wasn't what I had expected, it was exactly what I received, because love in action is the greatest evidence of the Gospel truth. People living out Jesus, living out what they actually claim as truth, is the greatest testimony of all.
The opposite is true: the greatest hinderance to the faith is people claiming Christ and not living out His love. Church, if we want to turn people away from Jesus, the quickest way to do so is to not have our actions match up with our words and convictions.
The thing is, as society evolves and as our world continues to make technological advances and scientific discoveries, doubt in the form of questioning has got to have a place within the Church, because it will arise, and I say in the form of questioning because of this next point: doubt has already found a place in the Church in various other forms.
We often sympathize with the sins of others, though we do not recognize them as forms of doubt.
Over time I have realized a liberating truth: everyone doubts God every, single day.
You may not question God's infinite understanding, but do you ever doubt other characteristics of His? When a person attempts to control their situations out of worry or anxiety, he or is doubting God's promises to provide and to guide. Anytime a person sins, he or she is doubting God's promise to be for our good. I'm sure people in third-world countries doubt the existence of God every single day, wondering why starvation surrounds them and poverty runs rampant. If you've had a negative self-image or given your insecurities a foothold, then you've allowed doubt to creep in, because giving into fear is giving into the lies of the enemy, which includes not believing the truth that God says about you and your identity. We all experience times when darkness seems to hide his face. We all have wandering hearts, souls that need reminders of His love and grace. We all doubt, it just takes different forms within each person. Some people doubt God with their minds, while others doubt God with their hearts.
I appreciate Rachel Held Evan's words:
'As I’ve said on multiple occasions, most young adults I know aren’t looking for a religion that answers all of their questions, but rather a community of faith in which they feel safe to asking them. A good place to start in creating such a community is to treat young adults like the complex human beings they are, and to take their questions about faith seriously'.As Christ-followers, we don't need to claim to know every answer to every question, but we do need to realize what our claim is: love. The Church is called to love, nothing more, nothing less.
I think that as time goes on, perhaps we live our way into the answers.
As a quick sidenote, there is much to understand about doubt and questioning. This post is merely skimming the surface. Sometimes, questions can be found and simply exist from a lack of understanding, for example in my own instance oftentimes a proper examining of scripture cleared up some questions.
Also, it is important to be informed about one's claims, no matter what they might be. Strive to know more about your life, your beliefs, and the world around you. You may be surprised by what there is to know.
In regards to the basic fundamentals of the Gospel, that humans are sinful, that Jesus came as God to die for our sins, and that He raised from the grave conquering sin and death for all who believe, there is much to glean information from. I've learned a lot that growing up I had never before heard!
Regardless, doubt will often arise within many people's minds, whether it be about the Gospel or something else. There will be a moment, perhaps many moments, within us all when we are forced to choose between belief and unbelief.
God does not seem to call anyone to perfection, but rather He calls His followers to a redemptive spirit. Are we to be certain in some aspects? I've been pondering this for quite some time, and I honestly think that the answer is yes, though absolute certainty can be negative, even dangerous as Richard Beck points out:
'My point is, none of us knows, with absolute certainty, how the spiritual realm is configured. And that lack of knowledge should make us humble'.Somehow, a happy medium must exist and discernment must come into play regarding what is unwavering and what is not. As we and those around us struggle with our and their own forms of doubt, choices must be made to keep on hoping, to keep on living out the love of Christ, a love so nonsensical that it turned the world upside down.
What I needed to understand during my freshman year of college was that a person who directly receives a vision (or other theophany: divine intervention) from the spiritual realm is not loved more by God, and I needed to learn that one who doubts in 'x' way rather than 'y' way is not condemned to hell. We are all doubtful. We are all messy, broken people who can only be fixed with divine love.
To love is to say, hey, I may not understand what you're going through or why it's happening, but I am going to love you through it anyway, and I'm not merely going to tell you I love you but I'm going to live out this love by communing with you, all of you: your heart, soul, mind, burdens, joys, being.
And I'm not doing it because I gain from it. I'm doing it because that's what the love of Jesus is, and I believe that it's real. Our lives are evidence.
Even if you believe in total predestination or Calvinism. Even if you're Armenian. Whether you're from a Church of Christ background or you grew up Baptist. Whether you think a person can be a carnal believer or if you consider apostasy a separating sin, you are called to love if you claim the name of Jesus Christ.
Love is a choice. To again quote Dr. Beck:
'You can't wait around until you are dead to see how the Other Place is configured. You have to choose a life today. So, you read those mystical experiences in the Bible and reflect on your own experiences and then you make your choices. You choose to believe. But neither you nor the doctor can act pridefully. You're just doing the best you can with what you have experienced. And so are other people'.To love is to believe, and I think this is what Christians often forget or perhaps do not truly understand. All believing really means is to, as my professor Randy Harris would say, 'to faith it'. To live in love, regardless of your sinful flesh, regardless of your circumstance, and regardless of what anyone else is doing or saying around you. They say happiness isn't a state to arrive at but rather a state in which to live, and it's the same for faith: it is not merely a destination, but it is also a daily, moment by moment life choice that one must make each day, through all of life's ups and downs. It's a paradox, to doubt and to 'faith it' at the same time, but isn't Christianity overflowing with paradoxes?
It doesn't make sense for Jesus to have been fully God, perfectly divine, yet fully human, perfectly flawed.
It doesn't make sense for Jesus to have been born of a virgin.
It doesn't make sense for a truth-filled book to have been written by flesh-filled human beings.
It doesn't make sense for Christians to be sick inside yet progressively made well by the Great Physician (and we keep on indulging our sickness day after day).
It doesn't make sense for Jesus to have preached to 'love your enemies', to 'turn the other cheek', and to 'pray for those who persecute you'.
To be a Christ-follower is to embrace these paradoxes and many more, because even though they do not make logical sense, they are well with our souls.
To be a Christ-follower is to hope in the midst of doubt, to find peace in the midst of paradoxes.
We need to remember that our hope is not in ourselves. My comfort does not rest in my abilities, my visioneerings, my heart, my mind, or my strength. My hope is in Christ alone. We need to adopt the mindset of Mark 9:24 in which a man cries out, 'I believe, but help my unbelief!'
An incomprehensible paradox dependent on an incomprehensible truth.
Such is the incomprehensible love of Christ.
