I
read a devotional blog three times a week. The blogger can sometimes barely manage
three posts a week. Sometimes it’s two. Occasionally, it’s none.
The
blogger has a husband who’s going through chemotherapy. He has cancer. He’s in
his early 30s. They have children.
She
maintains an outward smile in her blogs. She’s always trying to be encouraging.
She focuses on joyful things, positive things, likely knowing that her husband
is reading what she writes.
Sometimes
she cracks. And it’s okay. The people who follow her blog, including me, know
that it’s okay to crack. She’s shouldering an enormous weight, and sometimes
you have to let the smile go and just crack.
Some
days she disappears.
She
clings to her faith like a life preserver. Some days it’s not enough.
In
The
Fire of Delayed Answers, Bob Sorge says that “in the thick of my own
personal darkness, when it seemed that God wasn’t hearing any of my prayers, I
really struggled to find any sort of faith in my heart for deliverance.”
Doubt.
Coldness.
Unanswered
prayers.
Some
days it’s easy to believe what all the celebrity atheists say. Some days it’s
easier not to believe.
Faith
can be hard.
Faith
can be harder than not believing.
We’ve
all had those experiences. We might never admit that; some churches can be
notoriously non-understanding. We’re supposed to be living the victorious
Christian life, which absolutely has no room for depression and doubt.
And
yet Jesus had times when he questioned and cried out, times when the pain was overwhelming.
When
John the Baptist was killed by Herod.
In
the garden of Gethsemane.
On
the cross.
I
think of my blogging friend, and I can’t begin to approach an understanding of
what she’s going through. I read her words, brave words, knowing she must be
crumbling, or screaming, on the inside.
Some
days, doubt is normal.
Led
by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’ve been reading The Fire of Delayed
Answers. To see more posts on this chapter, “When the Lights Go Out,” please
visit Sarah at Living
Between the Lines.
Photograph by George Hodan via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
Glynn: I am a pastor so there is a certain "mask" that has to be worn. I get so tired of wearing it sometimes. I also get really tired of people pretending things are all a-okay when they are not. Honesty in the right settings brings healing. I admire this blogger you read who tells her true feelings. It's time more Christ-followers did that.
ReplyDeleteSuch a wonderful reminder, Glynn. Very stirring. You bring up such a valuable truth: living the victorious Christian life is not about hype or pretending. There truly is victory in Christ and He is forever reigning, but not everything is subject to Him yet--we are enforcing the victory He attained through His blood. Our victorious Christian life sometimes looks like doubt and fear will overwhelm us. It looks like a lot of crying and not much laughter. The hope we have though is not in our achieving anything but coming to a place of expressing the victory He has purchased. Love this, Glynn. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteIn her interview at On Being, Nadia Bolz-Weber of the House of Saints and Sinners in Denver spoke of trying only to allow her scars to show, and not her wounds, because on seeing the latter, her parishioners would feel the need to assume the role she is there to fulfill. She noted how she makes sure she has other places for her emotional needs to be met. She has many scars... because she is human.
ReplyDeleteAs one who is still part of a cancer group, I know the stories of wanting to be strong but needing to be able to fall apart. The wounds are deep and the scars long and pain-carrying. Caregivers struggle every day with hope and faith and doubt, with needing to allow in and wanting to shut out. Darkness and light exist in the very same moment.
Thank you so much for these good, strong, important words, Glynn. And thanks to Maureen for hers, too. That last paragraph of hers describes so much of what we experienced when my son-in-law was dying five years ago - all of that. We need to give permission for lament, grief, doubt. Thank you for offering it here.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this wonderful reminder that we are human- God doesn't expect us to be perfect or respond perfectly all the time (however we seem to think we should or others should).
ReplyDeleteIt's not the doubt or fear that's a sin, it's what we do with those emotions. Jesus shows us what to do- take it to God!
All who walk in the light of faith, can see the shadow. We know it is there, yet we also know it's best to keep our eyes on the light.
ReplyDeleteBut, when we are struggling, it is good to speak it.
I have noticed with those that are care takers, that the care taker usually puts-off taking care of themselves. It's like they don't notice their own decline for lack of break and support and refreshment. They usually end up taking on too much and not looking at (for some reason) the signs of their need. They don't ask for help. So it is up to others to step-in.
ReplyDeleteGlynn,I missed this last week but glad I found it now. Doubt is very real, but here's how a i combat it. The heart will falter, but the head is keeps me straight. When the greatest commandment says, "love the lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind," it literally means with your brain! That's why I love apologetics. Faith cannot be proven, but when facts are so solid in so many other areas, I simply cannot fall away. The church and Christians at large do not exercise their head muscle, relying instead on an overdose of emotion.
ReplyDelete