Trust

Over the years, I've watched many people rebel against God, or give up their faith and walk away from Him entirely. It's only increasingly pursuing Him myself over the past couple that's caused me to feel the weight of sorrow at the sheer tragedy of that.

It's hard acknowledging that there's no person with all the answers; no person that will never falter; no person I can use as a rock, to keep me steady. With this on my mind, I'm reminded of how much I put other people on pedestals. And as time passes and life happens, bringing with them the trials that truly test us, one by one, these people fall off their pedestals, leaving me with a lot of trouble trusting again.

Ultimately I know this is another cleansing fire for me. And what it means is that it's time for me to start putting all of my trust in God, which is something I've always had trouble with. That's what lies at the very heart of my doubt. It's never been a question of disbelief, only of trusting that God has me, my life, and every circumstance therein carefully cupped in His hands, and that He cares enough about it all to take care of it.

I don't believe this means I can't trust other people. But it does mean to trust them within the confines of the understanding that they will fall and fail, whereas God never will. This, too, is something with which I've struggled, because of my desire to be able to completely trust someone who's physically and tangibly there. But where wisdom from others has fallen on my deaf ears, repeated experience has proven futility in such a desire.

It's always been more or less binary for me: either a person can be trusted universally, or they can't be trusted at all. But that's not the truth. Trust between people has to be gradual, and never absolute. That's an aspect of relationship that's exclusively for God, and I think will be a sign of maturing faith when it's there. He wants my absolute trust, and it cannot be shared with other things.

Tragedy and Triumph

For years I've wondered something about the way God works. Now first, let's work around the fact that we aren't always meant to understand God's ways; that's another discussion. But I've always wondered why He doesn't reveal Himself to those seeking Him in an obviously supernatural, benevolent way, to reassure us during trials of faith.

The clear answer behind this is the abundance of examples given in the Bible, during which times God's hand was supernaturally obvious, and yet the people were still unfathomably faithless. There is no one passage for this, because that's basically the theme of humanity throughout the Bible and history itself.

The primary example that comes to mind is all that befell the nation of Israel throughout the entire Old Testament. My thoughts begin in Exodus, with their enslavement and subsequent liberation that could have been nothing but God's work. Plagues of the nature and magnitude shown don't just happen. There could be no doubt in anyone's mind that ours is the one true God.

Yet, two things we see.

The first, and smaller to scale, is the repetitive reaction of Pharaoh. Despite seeing things progressively more supernatural, things that could not be explained but by the hand of an all-powerful God, still his heart was hardened. It wasn't until after the people had suffered ten plagues, his staff had acknowledged God's sovereignty, God had answered a plea on his behalf, he had claimed repentance (but apparently wasn't genuine), and he had lost his own firstborn (along with everyone else's throughout Egypt), that he finally relented to God's will. And even then, he still went back on his word. These actions can't be justified by saying that Pharaoh didn't believe that God is almighty and worthy of his worship and obedience. Pharaoh's was a simple rebellion against what he must have known to be right all along, but had too much pride to truly repent and make amends.

The second, on a much broader scale, is the redundant theme of faithlessness from the Israelites. Time and time again we catch glimpses of them worshiping other gods, even as soon as right after their liberation from Egypt, and pretty much onward from there. Meanwhile, all throughout the Old Testament, we also continue to see undisguised acts of God. But again, these miracles did nothing to make the people more faithful.

Speaking from firsthand experience, I've been forced to acknowledge God's work, because some things just can't be chalked up to coincidence or imagination. Therefore, intellectually, I know and believe that God is there, almighty, and worthy of our full devotion. Yet, a cheerful, joyful, eager servant has never been a descriptor I would use for myself (though rest assured, I want to be that).

From these examples, it's clear that knowledge of God's will and willingness to lovingly do it are two separate entities.

Now, finally, let's observe a modern-day relational dynamic: that of a parent and child. All too often I've seen the effects of bad parenting manifesting as not enough discipline. The consequences are twofold. One, the child becomes spoiled and self-centered and develops a sense of entitlement. Two, the child has no respect for the authority of the parent, or anyone, for that matter.

As followers of Christ, we are God's children. And as our Father, He knows best how to parent us. Discipline is necessary when there's an impurity in our hearts, and sometimes our hearts require a complete overhaul. The process in such a crucible is neither short nor painless. The change wouldn't happen if God just proceeded to dote on us; we would remain spoiled and rebellious in our hearts, even if we were "following the rules."

My conclusion is that hardship, which is permitted by God, is not intended to be just incentive to change our ways, on account of knowing that they're the consequences for misdeeds. These trials are intended for so much more: to cultivate our hearts, so that they will produce fruits of the spirit. This is something that can't be rushed, because the faithful, loving relationship between us and Him is shaped, over time, by this discipline.

It's encouraging for me to know, on a personal level, that God's work in my life will not be fruitless; that the peace and joy in Christ that I long for is part of what He has in store for me.

The Age of Confusion: Reason

"Doubt is part of all religion. All religious thinkers were doubters." -Isaac Bashevis Singer

I first found this quote several years ago, while I was trying "find myself" in the wake of a personal crisis. I added it to an entire page of quotes from famous figures, some of which were actual wisdom, while others were probably utter rubbish. I don't think I have that list anymore, but I've always remembered this one specifically, and I think it might have some merit. And while I consider the term "religion" to be too one-dimensional to adequately describe Christianity, I nevertheless maintain that there is truth to the quote itself.

In light of my recent struggles with doubt (in both my faith and myself regarding it), I've been fervently seeking answers to reassure me that I'm not a lost cause because of it. Fortunately I didn't have to go far to find that reassurance, once I knew what I needed to find. Apart from many encouraging words from trusted counsel, there was also a wealth of reading material readily available at my fingertips regarding the subject. Apparently such experiences are not uncommon. Go figure.

I want to start by acknowledging that, in fact. There are, of course, Biblical examples of doubt among Christ's followers. However, on a more modern note, even a quick search revealed prime examples of the truth of the quote above. Reading about some of those examples (and if you didn't bother to click the link, tldr: C.S. Lewis, Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther, among others) was a great reassurance in itself. As some of the body's most profound thinkers have wrestled with doubt, who am I to think that I should be immune to it?

Also, as I mentioned, amid my reading I also sought personal counsel from several brothers and sisters to whom I look as either mentors or peers. As I voiced my concerns, the nearly unanimous response was unexpectedly optimistic. Not that I anticipated condemnation by any means, but what I received, in addition to moral support and prayer, was encouragement, in that my introspective recognition and subsequent concern for my condition of doubt is a sign that I'm still growing in my faith (as opposed to having given up in light of hardship). The notion is that recognition was a necessary part of my maturation.

My experience through all of this has led me to believe that some measure of doubt is essential, like a sort of growing pain for faith. I'm certainly no expert on the matter, and I'm sure growth must manifest differently for different people, but I inwardly wonder how faith can ever mature without it.

What it all boils down to in the end is this: yes, I have had doubts. Many of them, in point of fact. But I don't think that means my faith has been shaken, just that it has been tried, and that hasn't been comfortable. But what matters is not that I've questioned even some important things. What matters is that questioning has not ended with me giving up on finding answers that reveal truth. I am resolved to search for the answers I seek until my doubts are laid to rest, or until I am. That, I think, is the essence of faith.

Of Sins and Shadows

As anyone who's been following along recently knows, I've been struggling with my faith a lot lately. I've backslidden, I've questioned my legitimacy, and I've found my faith lacking. This leads to further questions and more introspection, ultimately ending with my uncertainty as to whether or not I am all that I claim to be.

After some conversations with people I trust over the past couple of days, and some studying and meditation on the works of Chambers and Lewis this morning, I've found that my faith issues are subdivided into two general issues. One is that I still sin. The other is that I still suffer. In some senses this is causal: I suffer, and I use that as an excuse to pardon my sins. And both of these things together make me question what's different about my life now than it was before I gave it to Christ.

Could it be this simple? That my personal shortcomings and tragedies are what cause my faith to crumble? Am I truly that naïve?

The sad reality of mortal life is that it isn't perfect. Our actions are laced with unloving selfishness that disregards the outcomes and effects on other people. This is both a cause and an effect of the injustice that is inherent in our fallen world. And although as Christians we're called to something greater, to be pure and virtuous and to love like Christ loves, it is acknowledged that we will fail. There will be more sin. There will be more suffering.

And yet, as a further injustice, we are forgiven for all of this.

The acceptance of that grace, then, is the part that I seem to be struggling with. I hate when I lose my temper or slip back into my sinful habits. This backsliding makes me question my legitimacy, and truly, my salvation. I see my poor actions and then contrast them against the lifestyles of other Christians, telling myself that I've failed again, and that I'll never truly change. That line of thought feeds my depression and makes me wish death upon myself.

Contributing to this is the lie that the life of a Christian is always happy. I don't know where I've gotten this ingrained, but it too has had its negative effects. My life since following Christ has been anything but a bed of roses. For some reason I'd inwardly hoped that things would go well for me as a result, but that just isn't the case. And there isn't any reason to think that it would be. Bad things happen to everyone. Again, that's a condition of the world we live in.

Christian faith isn't some magic spell or mantra to breed perfect people or cure all the world's suffering. It's the belief in a God that loves us regardless of our imperfections and redeems us from them. It's the ability to love others in the same way, because that's the grace that's shown to us. It's the true hope of better things to come.

God, help me to be faithful to You. Help me to trust You with my life, enough to lay it down at Your feet for You to do with as You will. I am Yours. Help me to always remember that.

Providence

It's easy for me to forget that God is all-powerful. Well, not the fact, so much as all that it entails. It's easy to forget that He sometimes allows, and other times ordains things to happen the way that they do. Whichever the case, as He is both omnipotent and omniscient, nothing happens without His permission. And yet I still forget.

With that in mind, it's also easy to dismiss things as chance or coincidence. Now, let me just say that for a long time now I haven't believed in either. There aren't actually any odds, nor chance or luck involved in anything. They're only a justification most people give themselves as an explanation for things happening when they don't know all the variables. Since there are thousands, perhaps millions of unknown variables in every real-life situation, things like chance are used to account for a lot.

It's fine, really, that we don't know all the variables. We're not meant to, and our minds likely couldn't comprehend the magnitude if we did. But attributing things to odds, luck, chance, coincidence, or anything in that general vein is simply illogical. And that's just from a non-spiritual, non-Biblical perspective.

On the other hand, being both all-knowing and all-powerful, God not only understands each minute inner working of the universe (let that sink in for a moment) since He's the one that handcrafted it, but He's also able to freely interact with it according to His will (in fact, I have had personally instructive instances that were far too specific and well-timed to be coincidence). And although our free will often causes our paths to diverge from those of God's will, He uses all of it to His purpose, creating a testimony to be shared with others. Therefore, no one is beyond hope. No one is out of His reach.

It should be reassuring to know all this. That's the mindset I'm trying to develop, of being comforted by my belief and faith in Him. Easy to say, but practicality is a far cry from being simple. Suffice it to say that my trust in Him has yet a lot of room to mature (as if this blog itself wasn't a testament to that fact).

What I can say is a comfort even now is that He remains endlessly merciful, He actually wants a relationship with me, and He still pursues me, even though I fail constantly. It's times like that I'm trying to remember that it can't be on my strength that I rely, but on His providence.

Wait for an Answer

The past week has basically sucked, spiritually. My faith has been tested and found desperately wanting. And yet, this is still not the end. I guess you could say that the figurative wrecking ball that's been taken to my façade was a necessary thing. In other words, I'm disillusioned.

The downside of this, of course, is that I'm confused, and I question my legitimacy, as I've established in recent posts. But one thing that, in my right mind, I always have to admit is that God is there, and He knows and loves me, just like He knows and loves everyone else. Since that much is the case, I have to acknowledge that He also knows how to shine a light on all of my deceptions and reveal truth to me. Anything I experience while I seek Him is not only allowed, but perfectly orchestrated to draw me close to Him in a true relationship.

I have doubts and fears. I'm tempted to go astray. I don't know what to expect or how long this uneasy phase will last. But I can't turn away from my faith, and as such, I know and believe God won't abandon me. This is a storm; a test of my resolve as a follower of Christ. There isn't an end in sight for me, but I know I will have relief sooner or later. Once this crucible has purified and strengthened my faith, I have to believe that God will see me through it, one way or another.

Still I wait.

Beyond Belief

Progress report, for those following.

I've figured out what it is that's missing (see paragraph 2), which links a formal Christian title to a reflecting Christian lifestyle. The fact is, despite what I believe and proclaim as a lifestyle, and truly a purpose for my own existence, what I'm lacking in my faith is an actual relationship with Father, Son, and Spirit.

This brings me to an important side note; one that I've considered for years, in fact. I used to take severe issue with Christianity being called a "religion," probably because it made it sound too contrived, regimented, and impersonal. To the core of me, even when I walked astray for all those years, I knew that Christian faith was more than just a bunch of rules and rituals. It's meant to be personal; a relationship. Calling it a religion doesn't even begin to do justice to what it was meant to be.

Since then I've learned to not take such offense, and at one point I even began calling it both, because the rules and rituals are important, to varying degrees. But within the past few months I've questioned even that stance. Because does a healthy relationship, as Christianity ought to be, not also have a fair presence of such things? I think it's meant to. Therefore, I stick to my initial position, that it shouldn't be a religion at all, but completely relational. And on that note, it does stand to reason that the following of laws and traditions is a gesture of love, more than one of obligation.

This is precisely where my problem begins. Without a relationship, what I have is merely a religion. As such, it's meaningless. Anyone can claim a creed and live by its morals. But without the all-important relational aspect, all that makes is a whitewashed tomb. All the claims and deeds are empty, and a person living such a lie is spiritually no better off than one who embraces a completely misguided life.

I'm still placing my hope in a revelation for development of a true relationship. I want to want Christ. I need, for the first time in my life, for my actions to not be for selfish gain.