|image property of Mandy Steward|
I've been having some profound misgivings about this faith I've sewn my heart to. The questions aren't new, really. They've been around since the beginning, since I said yes to Jesus more than ten years ago. It's just now that I'm being honest about them.
Maybe you have nagging doubts of your own. I think most people who declare themselves Christian must. I don't know how a person couldn't. But I guess it comes back to that honesty thing.
I don't trust God.
There, I said it. I want to trust him, but I don't.
The gospel has stopped making sense to me. I am quickly losing the ability to see it as a story of purest love. Instead, I'm struggling with the knowledge I'm supposed to swallow the fact that the loving God who is supposed to be all strength and glory is powerless to save the people who haven't happened to fall in with his kid? I know it's a narrow road and all, but we're talking a sizable percentage of history's population suffering eternal torment on a seeming technicality.
I have a hard time with that.
When I look closer at the Word, sifting for meaning, for comfort, I find myself confronted with language that is unsettlingly familiar to the justifications my abusers spoke when they smacked and shoved and kicked me into submission. They said it was my fault; that if I wasn't so bad, wasn't such a problem, then they wouldn't have to do all that. And while much of the Bible's archaic abusive language is in Old Testament, isn't God supposed to be the same yesterday, today, and forever?
I have a hard time with that, too. A very hard time.
I'm honored to be writing (and thrashing) over at Mandy Steward's blog today to help celebrate the release of and start a conversation about her book.