December 2000
~December 11, 2000
".... I wonder whether I have what it takes to go on as a
Christian. During those times, life seems to me a bittersweet series of ups
and downs. The ups come when I feel a real connection with God. The downs
come when it seems like I'm only talking to myself when I pray. The ups are
fleeting, and the downs are self-perpetuating. When I am down, I worry
about being down. I wonder whether or not I will still be praying and going
to church when I'm 40.... I
believe that if one is really a Christian, then he's in it for life. So
these thoughts disturb me. Am I really in it for life if I'm capable of
seriously entertaining the possiblity that I might not be at some point?
Worse still, I can't even get excited or terribly afraid about that. That,
above all else, makes me anxious. I think I ought to weep, but there's
nothing there to make me weep except will. It's incredibly hard to will
youself to weep when you aren't especially sad, and it's silly to even try
when you know that the only one watching sees what's in your heart and knows
you're faking, anyway. So you see the cycle... Every time the cycle goes 'round, a bit more of me is worn away.
I care a bit less about how it all turns out.
.... The knowledge I've gotten from a few books has allowed
me to mascarade (I guess) as a steadfast Christian. I am, in truth,
anything but. I don't know if I'm saved, and I don't know what I believe"
--Taken from an email to a friend
As I read these words again, I struggle against the desire to claim that I didn't write them, after all. Or that they somehow mean less than they seem. Thankfully, I am incapable of doing either. Though the truth can cut, only a fool would accept a lie for the sake of comfort.
".... if my house [of faith] was a house of cards, the sooner it was knocked down, the better."
-- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
"Indeed it's likely enough that what I shall call, if it happens, a "restoration of faith" will turn out to be only one more house of cards.... But there are two questions here. In which sense may it be a house of cards? Because the things I am believing are only a dream, or because I only dream that I believe them?"
-- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
C.S. Lewis, as usual, delivers. The man was honest with himself. Honesty among other virtues strives to build a house on the Rock.
I have spent a great deal of time asking myself the same questions. I have frequently buried my head in the sand, resuming a broken, inadequate type of faith in order to protect myself. It is emotionally easier to believe in something you've always believed in, rather than face the possibility that you've been wrong all along.
I am basically convinced that God exists, and that Christianity is true. It is always my own position before God that has given me concern. My standing.
This is (I think) the third time that I've encountered a brick wall in my faith. The third time a choice has been presented to me. Buckle and proceed in your pale, inadequate faith; continue in outward comfort but inward terror, or admit that things are fouled up, and fix them before proceeding.
Is my faith a house of cards? Definitely. Forunately, the Bible tells me that it is. The sin nature is waiting around every turn.
The sin nature. My position before God.
It seems clear to me that sin causes all our problems. It does it with such finesse that we barely notice if we notice at all. Why is my faith a shambles? Why is my life a wreck? Where are you God? Honest enough protests, but uttered in a spirit of pride, in my case.
What I thought on a deeper level was, "Look God, I've been going to church, I've been putting a reasonable effort into resisting temptation..why aren't you holding up your end of the bargain?" In the shadows of my mind, the honest and desperate questions became demands. "I'm a good guy God, let me have my due." or perhaps even, "I've given of my precious time to meet your silly expectations, Lord. But you must have lied, 'cause I don't feel any joy at all."
As my stomach was tied in knots over the snag I was in, I prayed to be convicted of my sin. The prayers were challenges. I dared God to find something wrong.
At some point in the night as I lay on my bed, a smattering of the true nature of the sins I had dismissed as insignificant was shown to me. My case collapsed, my challenges withered, and my sins were covered by the Blood.
This all sounds rather churchy. I would give this practical advice to anyone in a similar situation. Maintain honesty. Everything is NOT ok. Resist the desire to believe it is.
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Contact me: adam.stephens@ttu.edu