Like a Child

Salt to Wounds

2012-01-07T13:48:00.004-05:00

On the heels of my last post, my husband and I received an email from our former church (almost 3 years after leaving), reminding us that we were still on the membership rolls and of the vital importance of joining a church. If we had not already transferred our membership, they hoped for us to do so in the next six months, as they were no longer in the position to minister to us spiritually.

We are supposed to respond, but we're just going to wait it out, for obvious reasons. We're hoping this is some sort of formality, and if not, we will be able to exit peacefully, withdrawing our membership by stating our future membership decision is uncertain due to the prospect of house-hunting.

But still, the disciplining tone of the letter is salt to old wounds. My "thick skin" is apparently not as strong as I thought. The timing is just horrid, feeling rather alienated from Christianity due to the new direction of Biologos along with the discomforts/anxieties that preceed labor.

I'm not sure why I'm even writing this now, as I've always been hesitant to post anything too personal, nor do I want to point fingers, complain or give into resentment. But I'm also human, and sometimes, I just feel like enough is enough. When will I feel peace?

If you comment on this post, I especially ask for advice on how to proceed, i.e. what are the guidelines for a speedy and quiet departure from the PCA church, either with no specific "church home" for transfer, or a switch to Methodism.

Thanks to all.

An Agnostic Plea for Compassion

2012-01-05T22:06:00.004-05:00

I spent over 10 years as an evolution-accepting evangelical Christian, albeit a rather confused one. However, layer upon layer of complexity was added to my faith as I began to look into OT historicity last year. The final bombshell was the realization of the claims of some modern biblical scholars about the NT. My faith was dismantled, and while evolution was not the direct cause, it certainly set me on the path to deconstruction.

As Paul states recently on his blog, Disoriented Theology:

"It’s one thing to reject the historicity of passages I don’t much like – the flood, the genocides, the Old Testament view of a bloodthirsty, vengeful God – but it’s quite another to find that New Testament passages suffer from the same problems. Maybe they don’t, but I suspect some of them do (certainly the authorship questions are just as muddled as they are in the older scriptures)."

What NT problems? Here is just a sampling listed by episcopal minister J. S. Spong (H/T Paul):

"Are the gospels then capable of being effective guides to history? If we line up the gospels in the time sequence in which they were written – that is, with Mark first, followed by Matthew, then by Luke and ending with John – we can see exactly how the story expanded between the years 70 and 100.

For example, miracles do not get attached to the memory of Jesus story until the eighth decade. The miraculous birth of Jesus is a ninth-decade addition; the story of Jesus ascending into heaven is a 10th-decade narrative.

In the first gospel, Mark, the risen Christ appears physically to no one, but by the time we come to the last gospel, John, Thomas is invited to feel the nail prints in Christ’s hands and feet and the spear wound in his side.

Perhaps the most telling witness against the claim of accurate history for the Bible comes when we read the earliest narrative of the crucifixion found in Mark’s gospel and discover that it is not based on eyewitness testimony at all..."

Questions such as these has enveloped Christianity in a mist of confusion for me. The central theme of Christianity -- the resurrection -- has lost its essence, and I cannot genuinely call myself an orthodox Christian. Now, when I read this excerpt from the Biologos site, I feel like another bombshell has been dropped upon me:

"Now let's turn to category (2), the case of a person who has been exposed to Christianity but doesn't believe it because they claim not to have enough evidence. I think there are several different possible things that might be going on here:

First of all, just because they claim to be seeking the truth doesn't mean they really are:

(A) They might actually have enough evidence to believe in God, but dishonestly refuse to admit it to themselves, because they don't want it to be true. In this case, they are not actually sincere, and have rejected God not because of inadequacy of the evidence, but because of stubborn rebellion. In this case, there is no reason to think that they would accept God even if they did have more evidence. So it is not God's fault that they do not believe. It should be pointed out that many of the people who saw Christ multiply the loaves, heal people, raise the dead etc. nevertheless refused to believe. It is naive to think that if everyone saw miracles, everyone would believe. Rather the people who don't want to believe become more firm in their rejection of God.

(B) Or, although they don't have enough evidence to believe, they choose not to investigate to see whether it is true or not. In this case, it is their own fault that they don't have enough evidence. If people claim to base their decisions on evidence and reason, it is hypocritical if they reject Christianity without carefully considering whether there is sufficient evidence for Christ's Resurrection and other miracles to show that Christianity is true. In particular, it is utterly irrational to insist on seeing a miracle personally in order to believe if there is lots of evidence that other people have seen miracles. People don't refuse to believe in scientific results unless they personally witness the experiments, so long as multiple reliable people say they have done the experiments, that is enough. Why should religion be different?

I never assume that anybody is intellectually dishonest until I have some specific reason to think they are dishonest. But I've talked to enough atheists to know that most of them do fall into categories (A) or (B), at least to some extent. However, I'm sure that there do exist cases in which atheists are sincere. In this case..."

In the end, my loss of faith will always be regarded as a failing on my part. I am lost, unregenerate, unrepentant and disobedient.

This is the message coming from evangelical Christians, even evolution-accepting ones. As I put things into perspective after a year of doubt and despair, Christianity looks cruel -- a form of survival of the fittest where those that struggle to beleive in miracles are the outcasts.

As most of you know by now, while agnosticism is the label that best fits me, I actually still yearn for faith. With the impending birth of my third child, I want to believe in a heaven, a God who loves, a Jesus who saves. But my mind doesn't work that way.

I recently dabbled in mainline Christianity, aiming to foster some sort of Christian identity -- what many evangelicals would shun as cultural Christianity. But alas, my past inhibits my assimilation into what I interpret as a passionless Christianity under the lens of my evangelical upbringing.

Thankfully, over the last year, I've acquired a thicker skin. It's a necessary adjustment to move on with life, find enjoyment, and rid myself of the doubt-induced despair. I want to kick myself for even attempting to read blog articles in my 37th week of pregnancy, bloated, nauseous, and expecting labor any minute now (both my children came at 38 weeks). Have I not learned by now that the blogosphere is just poison for my well-being? People taking up arms to face-less targets, me being one of them.

I hope, that if I've accomplished one thing on my little unknown blog, it is to defy the stereotype Christians give to agnostics. If you are a Christian, I hope that you might better understand our challenges and include compassion in your language towards us.

And so I exit the blogosphere yet again, to try to enjoy life even when a huge part of my identity is gone. To marvel at the seeming miracle of birth without having an answer for why.

A Time to be Silent

2011-12-13T16:19:00.001-05:00

I've fallen out of the blogging bandwagon. Life has been hectic as we juggle pregnancy, homeschooling, housework, and child-rearing. Our priorities are our children's needs and keeping me fed in spite of the nausea. There is no time left for faith deliberation, blog perusal, or book reading. Besides, the anger and discord often found online is of no productive value to my spirituality, as I've put to rest much of my spiritual angst and despair, learning to find peace in my uncertainty, even as it has lead me, not back to evangelical Christianity, progressive Christianity, nor atheism...but just a simple state of unknowing and a friendly agnosticism that retains curiosity and respect for the faith of my fellow Christians. Regardless of what some claim, doubt is not always healthy, and an intellectual examination of Christianity does not always produce positive results. Doubt is my curse, for my story is not one of a happy ending, but of acceptance and contentment.

I've learned that, no matter what the obstacles, whether they may be spiritual, physical or intellectual, we all must find a way to move on. And that is what we have done. We've said our goodbyes to evangelical Christianity as a family. Quite possibly, it has been the healthiest decision we have made. As an intellectual agnostic, the message I heard was that of being unloved, rejected, misunderstood, and shunned, yet I found no way to change my thoughts -- to turn back time.

For the time being, we've remained at the progressive Methodist church I highlighted in a previous post (and I'll still promise a book review one day). While on the outside, we haven't actually left Christianity, if I'm completely honest, I am likely deconverted. I don't understand what Christianity means anymore. Without the pure, unadulterated belief in the virgin birth, divinity and physical, bodily resurrection of Christ, and its pre-requisite inerrancy of the Bible, God seems unreachable and non-existant to me. The members of our current church prioritize living out the Gospel over focusing on the Truth; advocating social justice, rather than emphasizing the afterlife -- a foreign language to me.

I've exchanged the passionate evangelical Christianity of my past for what now seems like a cultural and bland agnostic Christianity. Perhaps the primary obstacle to remaining in Christianity is now myself -- those poisonous thoughts and biases telling me this church and its teachings are heresy. Is it not surprising that doubt and deconstruction might lead so many to paths of atheism? I respect my atheist friends, and hold their decisions with just as much esteem as I do my evangelical or progressive Christian friends. Yet I feel the atheist label does not characterize my mild, seeker personality...my respect for religion, my desire to embrace my Christian heritage, my fear of nihilism, distrust of scientific materialism, and disillusionment with the ability of science to explain all.

However, while I'm not turning away from Christianity, I also cannot be a spokesperson for it -- not even this post-evangelical, emerging and progressive faith so many bloggers have embraced. I sincerely wish I could, as it would make my life much easier to acquire a label - somewhere to "belong" and something to inspire others. My rampant uncertainty is really the main reason my desire to blog has gone by the wayside. What have I to offer?

My one wish this holiday season for the blogosphere is that we could all find a way to respect our differences and set the arguments aside. Life is too short to argue, and my new goal in life is not to be right, but to be joyous, compassionate and gracious. Isn't that what Christmas should really be about -- giving gifts of love to one another.

If you blog during this season, I challenge you to write posts of love; there is "a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace." Ecclesiastes 3:7-8

This my time to mend - to be in silence, to be in peace.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year.

Slippery slope, revisited

2011-10-27T00:35:00.006-04:00

I've said this before, and I'll say it again...a slippery slope exists in the science v. Christianity debate. Acceptance of evolution opens the door to an open-mindedness and ambiguity over many evangelical sticking points that often cause Christians to transition to liberal, progressive, agnostic or atheist viewpoints (and most conservatives see no difference between progressive Christianity and atheism).

I'll point you towards this Biologos article and its comments for evidence, along with the controversial NYT piece coauthored by Karl Giberson.

The take-home message is that many advocates of theistic evolution hold theologies that are outside of the realm of "Christianity", including people like Brian Mclaren, Karl Giberson and Greg Boyd. And Marcus Borg, the author of the book that led me back to the church -- most certainly a heretic.

My husband and I are further evidence of this slippery slope. It doesn't matter that my husband is still a Christian, albeit a more progressive one (and I agnostic but still open to the faith).

I've learned to shrug my shoulders at all this. I'm not letting myself be pushed away from Christianity merely because the place that seems to be ministering to me is progressive. Besides, I've increasingly felt abandoned by evangelicalism, after being encouraged to embrace evolution by Tim Keller in his "Reason for God" (in which he claims that evolution and Christianity are compatible). The conservative voices of theistic evolution confuse and perplex me. In contrast, mainline christianity offers me the flexiblity to explore with a healthy level of humility over controversial issues.

As such, I'm committed to reading Borg's "The God We Never Knew" and perhaps post a reflection here. Let's see where this slope eventually takes me to.

Quest for Community: (Part 3) Mission Impossible?

2011-09-20T14:12:00.007-04:00

This is the second of the two posts I wrote this week. Just when I had decided to give up on the church, out of the blue, I receive an email from a friend about a Sunday study on a book by Marcus Borg, a progressive Bible scholar. Coincidence or providence, I'm not sure (I once wrote a post on this dilemma). I'm still deliberating whether I should attend. But at least now I have a viable option. I'll keep you updated on any "developments". In the meantime, I'll publish these posts, since after all, this blog is meant to chronicle my dynamic and unsteady journey as it unfolds.

****

I'm starting to think that finding community in the church is not a realistic goal, considering the status of the church today. Last year, we visited a variety of churches, but all of them were in the conservative to mainline evangelical class. When I wrote the first post on my quest for community a few weeks ago, we were considering branching out to moderate to liberal Methodist or Episcopal churches. However, I lack the motivation to follow through and attend a church service. I question whether I will fit in as a semi-conservative, intellectually liberal agnostic having a difficult time separating out fundamentalist indoctrination without throwing all of Christianity away, or at best, becoming a "cultural" Christian with a fairweather perspective.

Many factors have influenced my altered outlook on community. With a new school year, I've found a community of moms with the various weekly activities of the kids. Furthermore, I suspect that the pregnancy nausea, while improved, may remain with me through the rest of my pregnancy. Last, weeding through all the guidelines and statements of various congregations is utterly exhausting. And thus, I abandon my church hunt before it ever started!

A Calvinist Agonistic?

2011-09-20T13:58:00.002-04:00

Note: This is one of two posts that I wrote over the last few days. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it, when you've motivated yourself to give up. My surprise came in the form of an email from an old friend, inviting me to a study of a book by Marcus Borg at a progressive Methodist church near our home. Stay tuned....

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I don't feel I have a choice. My mind, my emotions, and my lack of spirituality cry out an absence of God. I know not how to choose to believe, to foster an ounce of faith. I'd like to believe in God. Scientific naturalism or atheism does not calm my existential questions, but that alone is not sufficient to accept the supernatural.

Since so few Christians are universalists, I often ponder how my life might help support Armenism and Calvinist theologies. I seem to nullify Armenianism because of my inability to will myself to faith. While Calvinism contradicts my moral compass, it certainly has more explanatory power for my predicament....I am unelect. I'm okay with that, because if I felt elect, knowing me, I'd be despairing over those that weren't. On the days I wonder if the God of Christianity exists, the evidence my lack of free-will seems to provide for Calvinism makes me shudder, and I find myself entertaining atheism yet again.

Or perhaps, I lack a spiritual center in my brain. I'm a rather rational, realistic and intellectual person. Being spiritual was always hard for me, offering prayers to God. My way of experiencing God was through my intellect, since my emotions were so fickle. But now that I've stopped thinking, reading and questioning, God really feels absent. To complicate matters, I have not experienced a healthy Christianity, and I'm sure spiritual abuse altered the spiritual pathways in my brain such that I can no longer access them -- I cannot sense God.

Amidst all these crazy thoughts, I've found a way to be content. I am not depressed or despairing. The mourning process is winding down. I have done the best I can...and that is all I can do. I surrender my will.

Thinking about the Gospel

2011-09-18T22:39:00.008-04:00

Over the years, a frequent answer to my ponderings about Christianity has been that "I think too much", or a recommendation that I not "read too many books". I agree. I'd love to switch off the skepticism about the Bible. My intellectual examination of Christianity was not of my own initiative, but what I perceived to be a necessary step towards faith.

When I read a statement on a blog like the one that follows, I'm not sure what to respond: [L]ove and mystery trump understanding every time...If you’re the kind of person who needs to figure everything out, perhaps the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is not for you. Too bad, because he’s the real deal: he’s the one who spun galaxies off of his fingertips, who calls forth the starry host one by one each night" (Students of Jesus, HT Rachel Held Evans). The heart of the message in this quote is synonymous with the original theme (and title) of my blog, Like a Child. However, 18 months after starting this blog, I have found it impossible to shut off my mind entirely without a personal spiritual experience of God to fall back on. Even children ask questions. They are satisfied with mystery because they trust their parents, surrounded by tangible reminders of love.

For a time, I thought "practicing Christianity" might be more important than mental belief. I agreed with the core message of the newest book by Scot McKnight, the King Jesus Gospel, that according to a review by Daniel Kirk, seeks to "articulate a gospel that both Jesus and Paul proclaimed, to articulate this gospel as deeply enmeshed in the story of Israel, and to insist that the gospel is not merely about personal salvation but about a more pervasive, cosmic transformation." I took on the label "agnostic Christian" hoping to demonstrate this transformation. But the truth is that living out Christianity feels insufficient without acheiving a certain minimum threshold of belief in the Christian creeds, especially when you consider that the ideals of the Gospel can be sought after by people of varying religious convictions, whether they be Christian, agnostic, atheist, Jew, Muslim or Hindu.

Thus far in my journey, I've come to the conclusion that Christianity is not just about (1) living the Gospel, (2) personal experience in Christ or (3) intellectual belief. It requires all three. As long as I only fulfill the first, I cannot honestly embrace the Christian label. It feels disingenuious. Sometimes I wonder if concealing my identity and my current agnosticism is closing the door on faith. But my attempts to seek faith locally have been fruitless, for I know not where to begin to find a place to explore my questions and reveal my spiritual vacuum without seeming like someone who "thinks too much"...and becoming a burden.

Defining Heresy

2011-09-12T14:10:00.003-04:00

A local nondenominational Christian campus group recently expelled a member for holding "unbiblical" views on homosexuality (follow news story here). Yet, these same views are welcome at Episcopal, PCUSA, and some Methodist churches (although many PCUSA pastors seem to be threatening to divide the denomination over this very issue). A quick internet search led me to local church pastors supporting the actions of this organization, and no Christian leaders speaking against it. My own views on this issue are ambiguous, simply because I'm having trouble with Bible at baseline, and how much of it is inspired by God. I plan to teach my own children abstinence before marriage, irregardless of the type of relationship. I'm uncomfortable with church teachings that would label a committed GL relationship as sin. Can we really rationalize tearing up the loving home of these families, many with children? My heart goes out to these individuals that have been labeled heretics by the church. How can Christians be so blind to the cacophony of views that leave outsiders confused, cynical or disillusioned. The church has conflicting opinions on just about everything...alcohol or no alcohol; egalitarian or complementarian; calvinism, armenianism or universalism; errancy or inerrancy; the list goes on.

My head is spinning, my heart aches, and my spirituality is non-existant.

Quest for Community: Part 2 -- The future of this blog

2011-09-03T13:41:00.003-04:00

I'm weary of online discussion about religion, and while I have opinions on the church and unanswered questions about Christianity, the reality is that this little blog of mine will remain unseen to those that could help change the course of Christianity. The conservatives, liberals and progressive Christians will continue to battle over science, scholarship and faith while those of us seeking peace and reconciliation are pushed out (to borrow a term from Shan K, we are "gyps[ies] at the side of the road...with a view of all the caravans passing by"). We are wandering and searching in the anonymity of the internet because we have not a safe place be our true selves in our local churches and communities (as echoed by my blogging friends in the comments to my previous post).

I suspect many of you are like myself, preferring face-to-face conversation over virtual discussion. Yet, if I have a hard time finding an open-minded Christian community in the university town that hosts Bart Erhman, I can only imagine the isolation others might feel in rural communities, particularly in the deep south. The issues are complex, and churches are either extremely dogmatic or fail to engage the hard questions in the blur of church activities (such as DoorDoNot's experience). Truth be told, most Christians are not interested in these deep theological questions, and I respect that, because if it weren't for my unfortunate luck of studying the biological sciences in college and then attending a restrictive, Calvinist church, I too would still be a happy, lukewarm Christian (and I intend no insult here, because I have often wished to return to my old self that had a much easier time fitting in). Many of us skeptics have not the desire nor the temperament to openly question in churches that have static answers. As described by Terri, "there is no way to overturn a deeply held, core idea without it appearing treasonous to the group, without seeming to undermine the authority of the very group which produced us".

So we have no choice but to venture online to vent our struggles and ask our questions. I am truly thankful for the opportunity this blog has given me to be vulnerable, having my thoughts rewarded with a shower of encouragement by online friends. Today marks one year since I had a complete breakdown over the despair of my "dark night of the soul". Thanks to you, I've made some peace with my continued doubts and status as an agnostic seeker and wanderer.

Though I value my virtual community, I still dream of a local group where my writings on this blog would not be seen as antagonistic -- a place in which static theology is replaced with fluid discussion, where skepticism is not taboo, and community involves acceptance, humility and honesty. And as I take time to evaluate my original goals for this blog, I wonder if my continued "ramblings" are of any value. This blog has become a tale of chronic doubt and I'm running out of steam.

Shall I make this blog more light and cheery, even while my faith remains elusive and discussing doubt now sounds like a broken record. I could redirect my writing to more mundane subjects like the comical things my children do or my quest to find homeschooling curriculum. These are the questions that fill the bulk of my days, that dull the pain of a faith lost.

But do they thrill me enough to write about?

I'm not sure.

Quest for Community

2011-08-22T13:43:00.004-04:00

Where do I fit in now? How shall I find a community in which I have the freedom to be myself?

Conservative, evangelical Christianity considers me an outsider and a heretic. I am unable to subscribe to inerrancy, eternal conscious torment, complementarianism and spanking, to name a few. The Christian homeschooling groups require a faith statement that I cannot sign.

Liberal Christianity alienates me the minute politics are brought up, for I am unable to identify with the left or the right (and generally too ignorant to join in these conversations anyways).

Progressive/emergent conversations seem overly focused on correcting the perceived ills of conservative Christianity. I'm not interested in debate, particularly since I have not relinquished all of the views that I valued as an evangelical. I'm both pro-choice and pro-life. I support abstinence and LGBT marriage. I'm likely not green enough, and have fallen short of the ideals for social justice.

Secular communities find me too restrictive socially with some of my old-fashioned views. Particularly with the homeschooling communities, I've discovered that I'm just not crunchy enough, and not anti-religion or anti-schools. I still value our public school system...and will reconsider our options year-by-year, depending on my child's needs and wants.

To complicate matters, in our high-paced society, people are often too busy to invest in long-term, authentic friendship. Friends ebb and flow, fading with a change in churches, playgroup or where my children attend classes. As I interact with these various communities, I often find judgment, not acceptance. Admonishment, not encouragement. Rules on how to interpret the Bible. How to parent, diaper, educate and vaccinate your child. What to eat, wear and consume. How to vote and how to live. Apparently, fundamentalism is not just limited to evangelical Christians.

I'm out-of-sync with so many of these communities, and find myself subconciously reevaluating my own views. I've been wrong many a times before...maybe I'm wrong again. My transition from evangelicalism to a confused agnostic was just the tip of the iceberg that led to a total deconstruction of everything.

This has to stop.

I cannot scrutinuze every detail of my life. I must accept that I cannot live to an ideal. I have no set paradigm for living. I have an inconsistent set of beliefs, some of which might evolve, some might not.

I will make mistakes.

I will fall short.

And I'm learning to love myself in spite of my imperfection, keeping alive the hope that one day soon, I'll rediscover a long-lasting community that provides respect and humility in spite of our differences -- a community in which I can finally be myself.

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How has doubt affected your life? Did you dissect your values after altering your spiritual beliefs? Where have you found community?

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General Update: I'm 18 weeks pregnant now and coming out of hibernation as the 24hr nausea slowly diminishes. We intend to visit an Episcopal church when I'm up to it, although we've grown content staying home on Sundays, avoiding the emotional and intellectual baggage tied to church. The most pressing issue for me is finding a homeschooling group, which has been a challenge due to the inherent segregation within the various groups.

The Slippery Slope - Fact or Fiction

2011-07-28T17:12:00.002-04:00

Chimney Rock

Many conservative/evangelical Christians feel that evolution, errancy and academic biblical scholarship represent a threat to Christianity - a slippery slope. As you begin to embrace these views, you run the risk of plummeting down to the depths of atheism, never to return. In contrast, some evangelical and most progressive and emerging Christians are able to embrace these viewpoints that were once deemed off-limits, with their faith still intact (perhaps a bit altered and refined). As a result, they argue that the slippery slope is an imaginary phenomenon. They make the mistake of projecting their experiences on others by offering blanket statements about the compatibility of secular scholarship with Christian faith. I can't say I blame them, and likely would have made the same assumption had my experience paralleled theirs. There is no need to link posts or name names here, as my goal is to educate and edify. As such, please allow me to call out a misconception that I feel is both damaging to those seeking Christianity and insulting those that have left.

My Christian friends, I implore you not to relegate the slippery slope to the halls of fiction. The slippery slope is not a myth, albeit one that is necessary to be intellectually honest with the current scientific, historical and archeological data before us. While minimizing the difficulties might shield one from attacks from fundmentalists, it belittles the struggles of seekers, doubters, agnostics and ex-Christians. In contrast, if you accept the slippery slope, you'll gain compassion and understanding for those of us whose journey has been more treacherous than yours. You'll understand the dangers of the slippery slope and consider ways to aid those of us that struggle. Most of all, you'll refrain from refering to atheists as apostates simply as a way to imply that they were sinners looking for an excuse to leave. This strategy cuts off the lines of communication before they have a chance to begin. Instead, let me suggest that conversation can only be fostered when you have the humility to validate the questions of your conversation partner. It is not a sign of weakness.

Source: Wikipedia

My opinion has been shaped by how embracing academic scholarship has played out in my spiritual life. The combination has not, by any stretch of the imagination, been a healthy relationship. The steps of the slippery slope have included evolution, mythological Adam and Eve and Flood, influence of ANE myth on OT interpretation, controversy over virgin birth and divinity of Jesus, failed end-of-world prophesies of Jesus, and the different atonement models. I know I'm not alone, as evidenced by my lengthy blogroll of doubters. I wish that I could offer advice for these struggling, disillusioned post-evangelicals. I want so desperately to tell them it will be okay -- to provide a resolution to my own dark night and label my doubt growing pains to a more satisfying faith. All I can do is commiserate in your descent down or climb up the slippery slope, and whether you wind up back in Christianity, complete unbelief, or somewhere in between, I won't think any less of you. And to my atheist or ex-Christian blogging friends, I am sorry that your opinions never seem to be taken seriously. You are often bullied and cursed and unloved, and I'm thankful that my eyes are open to seeing this abuse. Had I not confronted the slippery slope in my own life, acknowledged the difficulity in trancending it and the possibility that the slope exists because there is no God, I would not have had such empathy, and for that I am thankful.

I write this post with utmost respect for anyone who has found the slippery slope to be untrue in their life. I admire (to the point of envying) your ability to transition, adapt and evolve while still remaining within Christianity. But I'm tired of feeling crazy for my unbelief. When I am told the slippery slope is a myth, my questions and struggles are trivialized, and the road back to Christianity looks hopeless.

If you have battled the slippery slope, I'd love to hear you share your experiences -- what has encouraged you or been damaging. Has the slippery slope been a gradual staircase-like descent or a rapid free-fall? Did you end up retaining Christian faith, transition to agnosticism or atheism, or are you still undecided or searching?

Parenting Through Doubt

2011-07-16T17:32:00.005-04:00

Parenting, too, is a journey. Right now, I have more questions than answers. But unlike my own spiritual journey, I can’t push the pause button on parenting.

Here’s another unpublished blog post from the archives ….

My children. My 7 year old inquisitive and energetic little girl and my independent yet cuddly 3 yr old boy. The gems of my life. From the day I held my firstborn – my 6 lb 4 oz baby girl - my life was forever changed with the awesome yet terrifying privilege of raising this tiny being who would hold the strings to my heart. The birth of my daughter in 2004 and my son in 2008 seemed to confirm a greater purpose in this world given by Christianity, and fueled a passion to know more and instill in them that same purpose.

All dressed up for her ballet recital!

In my passion to lead my children to Christ, I stumbled, loosing my way as my own understanding crumbled, replacing ignorance with uncertainty, wondering if there is an afterlife and if not, why did we evolve to a place where the good does not always cancel out the misery, disease and destruction. As my children grow, I fear the time they will question me about Christianity, unsure about what to relay and how to explain doubt to children that want the security of certainty.

If my quandary about religion was not hard enough, I have the added obligation, particularly while we homeschool, of teaching my daughter the history of mankind, a story riddled with manmade horrors as slavery, war, crime, poverty, and worst of all, religious bloodshed, all of which still linger today. Try explaining to a 7 year old why people took slaves, separating mother from child.

A popular homeschooling curriculum (the classical approach) promotes a chronological teaching of history, such that my daughter would have learned about the ancient cultures this past school year (1st grade), and will end with the modern cultures in fourth grade. A common option used by both the Christian and secular homeschool communities are Susan Bauer Wise's Story of the World texts. Each time I have browsed them, I’ve cringed at the thought of how to teach my daughter, for instance, about the Egyptian gods while diverting the unavoidable questions about the differences between the Christian God and their gods. I keep taking the path of least resistance, which means focusing on all the other subjects and completely neglecting history. Two problems solved – I get to protect my sensitive daughter from extensive discussion about manmade evils, AND avoid difficult conversation about Christianity.

I can’t do this forever.

Enjoying our local botanical gardens while sister is in a class.

How can I protect my children from both the madness and the mystery? How can I protect their joyful ignorance? Their innocent faces tempt me to stifle the questions and offer them a vision of spirituality AND history under rose-colored glasses. But I can’t erase reality, and the loss of their ignorance will proceed year by year. It has already started with my daughter. All I can do is love them, hug them, cry with them and embrace their questions without distancing them with pat answers and authority. Instill in them a passion to cultivate empathy, charity and humility. Respect them enough to have the courage to tackle difficult topics, perhaps even the Story of the World curriculum that I dread.

Here's a song that puts to music the thoughts expressed here - "In my Arms" by Plumb.

Wild Goose Festival

2011-07-08T18:49:00.009-04:00

(My Reflections on Not Attending the Wild Goose Festival)

I have searched God with optimism and integrity. I've read books and blog articles by Christians, sought the community of a church, attended local forums on science and faith, and admitted my questions to small groups and here on this blog. I have committed time and money to attend a Biologos conference and join the ASA. All have been done with a sincere desire to find God. My husband has sought the guidance of pastors and attempted, unsuccessfully, to form a community of Christian scientists where one would be free to ask the hard questions.

Each time, my enthusiasm has been rewarded with silence. But I don't give up easily.

A month ago, I entertained the idea of attending an emerging church event called the Wild Goose Festival featuring a myriad of speakers and artists, including Pete Rollins and Brian McClaren (link to news article). People from around the continent would be flying in to visit a place that was a mere 15 minutes away from my home. "How fortuitous!" I thought to myself. But as I looked at the date (June 23-26), my inspiration quickly faded, knowing I lacked the motivation to go through the hoops that would be required to attend, with a husband on call both weekend days in the ICU and no recourse for childcare, not to mention my struggle with pregnancy nausea and vomiting (and I'm hesitant to take the only medicine that works for me, Zofran, due to various side-effects).

As I skimmed some posts from bloggers that reflected upon their experiences at the festival (see Chad Holtz, Julie Clawson and a full list of bloggers here), I felt a twinge of regret over missing out on a chance to potentially rekindle my faith. The Wild Goose Festival seemed like faith inspiring event for those that visited, and would have been a safe place for me to venture. My regret, however, was quickly overtaken by a sense of frustration at all the obstacles that prevented me from attending -- I would have preferred to remain ignorant of the event. It is almost easier to believe in no God, than an absent God who didn't care.

It is discouraging to see myself so worn down. My usual optimistic self has grown cynical, much to my own disapproval. But it was inevitable that I would only be able to run for so long. My psyche cannot endure the emotional low from chasing these leads that always seem to leave me stranded in rabbit holes. If God is out there, I cannot search. I fully admit that I am unable to find God by my own accord. I am a hopelessly unsatisfied, unwilling agnostic.

My husband wants me to find happiness irregardless of whether I am a Christian, agnostic or atheist. Can I? As long as I leave the door open for Christianity to be real, I must entertain the idea that my discontent comes from the spiritual void that needs to be filled by God's presence. Some readers will point towards this as evidence of lingering childhood indoctrination, but I am just not sure I am entirely the victim here. Christianity's central message is that faith in Jesus brings hope, both in this life and in the afterlife:

Remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace...Ephesians 2:12-14.

As such, I just do not see any other options besides either being filled with spiritual angst that might point me towards God, or focusing on ways to be content as an atheist. At times, I am thankful for the nausea that allows me some temporary relief from deliberating on this decision. Thank goodness for that pause button!

Pregnancy Prayers

2011-06-24T12:03:00.000-04:00

Come January, there will be a new addition to our family. A baby is growing within me. While I am certainly excited, the joy is overshadowed by the daily and relentless nausea and vomiting. It's not to the point of malnutrition or dehydration, but difficult nonetheless. The kids will watch more TV in these next months than they have in a whole year. They are my little mommies, along with my husband who is now full-time parent, housekeeper and cook, in addition to holding a full-time job.

I've done this twice before. This too shall pass. I'm at 9 weeks now and have already made it through three weeks (it started at 6 weeks), and am counting the days until 22 weeks when the nausea has historically subsided to a more manageable level.

Now you'll understand why I hit the pause button on my journey. Little time remains to contemplate seemingly trivial issues of inerrancy, evolution, hell, and whether Adam and Eve were real persons (the latest controversy within the blogosphere). I have not the energy to reflect on my lack of faith or worry upon what others might think of me. I simply live one day at a time, focusing on the future, and the precious baby that will eventually make all this nausea completely worthwhile -- the joy that will give meaning to the suffering.

Perhaps the trials of pregnancy and wonders of holding a newborn are prophetic metaphors for my current doubt struggles and future faith? I will admit that in the still on the night, after battling the nausea of the day, I pray. I ask the God I'm not sure I believe in, for faith, for relief, anything. I've reached the limits of my capacity to reason, and I admit that I cannot cope with the meaningless of life without God -- the loss of hope that might redeem the suffering.

So I pray. Indulge me in my need to pray, to believe and to hope. Prayer brings me a sense of peace, admitting my shortcomings, that I am frail, battered, and in need of a savior.

On God and Alcohol

2011-06-12T18:24:00.001-04:00

I had promised to publish some of my old posts, penned while still in a blogging mood. Since I'm out of town for two weeks, I do not have access to the one I had hoped to share, it being stuck on my hard drive back at home. However, I did find these ramblings in my online archives. I'll ask for your patience, in advance, as I work through what is a complex subject for me, even though I know for most it is a non-issue depending on the denomination in which you were raised.

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For most of my life, my Southern Baptist upbringing instilled the conviction that alcohol was sinful and displeasing to God. As alienating as it felt to be a non-drinker, particularly in college and grad school, I held fast to my stance against alcohol, out of respect and obedience to God's sacrifice of his only son for my sins. Besides, I had good reason to be fearful of alcohol after watching the ills of alcoholism destroy my grandfather's life (triggered by complications of their escape from Cuba's incoming communist regime).

In addition to abstaining from alcohol myself, I viewed prohibition as the badge of true Christianity, and coupled with God's command to only "yoke" myself with believers, a part of me always held back excess emotional attachment in friendships with "unbelievers", unable to completely open up for fear I might lead them astray (since I never was one to outwardly use apologetics, my witness was through my actions). When coupled with my education in the sciences among several stolid athiests, I seemed to be the sole Christian in the sciences. Whereas in college I could at least seek refuge in the non-drinking conservative community of Christian students I found at Campus Crusade and Intervarsity, there was no such equivalent at my graduate school, housed at the medical campus, a good 30 minute drive from rest of the departments. I was almost always the only person not drinking at each social function I attended, and probably missed out on having a more enjoyable graduate school experience by not attending the weekly department happy hours held at "bars". Interestingly, I have since realized that many of my graduate school classmates identify as Christians (thanks to Facebook status updates) - a discovery that is ironic now considering I am unsure if I identify as Christian myself. I tried so hard, and yet I failed. Some might say I tried too hard.

Nowadays, I'm not quite so niave. I know many Christians drink, and perhaps even get drunk. I know Southern Baptists that have been able to free themselves of the fear of alcohol without abandoning faith, including my own brother and parents. My husband has always refrained from alcohol, but his rationale was never linked to Christianity. However, for me, Christianity and alcohol are intriquitely interwoven, because my passion against alcohol seemed to be a direct revelation from God -- my own personal God telegraph, and my ability to withstand the temptation to drink was not of my own accord, but what I thought was the Holy Spirit within, empowering me to obey God's command. Each time I felt lonely or excluded for not drinking, I scolded myself as I remembered Jesus' suffering on the cross. A suspicion of legalism never once entered my mind. The smell of alcohol still triggers a strong repulsion, memories of sitting in church listening to sermons that demonized alcohol. As I now question God's working in my life through my alcohol convictions, I'm left confused about the existence of God and the reliability of the Holy Spirit.

Yet, with my newfound knowledge that Christianity and alcohol are indeed compatible, I find myself wishing for prohibition. I have zero desire to drink, and am thankful that my husband feels the same way. I cannot go back in time and know how my life might have played out had I not avoided alcohol, but I have few regrets about choices that spared me the dangerous side effects of alcohol - college binge drinking, destructive behavior and addiction.

I do not feel my life lacking without alcohol -- life can be just as rich and fullfilling (and slightly less expensive too!). My only regret is the alienation that I felt, and still feel, because of my decision not to drink and party. I am tired of the looks of puzzlement when I turn down free alcohol, or getting pushed to drink alcohol at every restaurant meal. Alcohol is a staple of human conversation and the center of many social functions, and I feel like a foreigner.

I don't understand the culture and the language of adult drinking, why people seek refuge in a drink from a grueling day at work or a tough day with the kids. I cannot join into conversations reminiscing about those partying college years nor can I understand the value in getting drunk. I'm perplexed that I'm often the only one not carrying a wine glass at get-togethers and mom's night outs and in fact, at a recent baby shower, I was caught off-guard that when I turned down a glass of champagne, I was left empty-handed during the toast (one blunder I shall make sure not to repeat).

Where do I go from here? As a post-evangelical-fill-in-the-blank-because-I'm-not-sure-what-to-label-myself, I MUST be a more open-minded person now, and have no qualms about yoking myself with drinkers considering that I don't feel yoke-worthy myself. Yet, I feel lost, floating from group to group but not finding a niche or community where I fit in.

While I will not judge others, I cannot escape the fact that alcohol continues to scare me. I worry about its addictiveness and ability to brew trouble. While I'm old enough to not worry over what others think of me, I still wish people would be more accepting -- that alcohol could be seen as a choice, not an obligation and way to conform. My dislike of alcohol should not be regarded any differently, than my failure to like, say, mustard. You might be slightly bewildered but still understand why I might not appreciate the varying nuances of mustard like you do.

Unfortunately, the story is different for my children. What will I teach them? I cannot protect them in a bubble, and while not drinking may seem like the best choice for me, they may view things differently as young adults. And let me be realistic -- chances are they will diverge in their opinions on alcohol with the pressure to drink they will experience throughout their college years, if not earlier.

Seasoned parents will often advise you to parent with your gut feelings. Mine, however, are much too intermingled with fundamentalism to be trustworthy anymore. There are days I long to be welcomed into a Southern Baptist community just so I could protect my children, and attend social functions that are not alcohol-focused. These are also the days I pine for my innocent faith in God. God and alcohol are a package deal for me, woven together so tightly that I fear they cannot withstand being torn apart.

note: I spend little mental energy worrying about these questions nowadays. We'll face these decisions soon enough, but still have time to munch on these issues and perhaps even evolve some more. Yet, I find this post important in demonstrating how little I have deviated from the moral path I started as Christian. It annoys me to no avail the hidden little snubs I often see against apostates ... a cop-out really, to use immorality as the scapegoat to explain why Christians loose faith. (I'm not going to name names b/c the problem is widespread. Suffice it to say that the problem is not limited to conservatives because I see it on some of the "big" progressive/science blogs I read.)

Spiritual Journey on Pause

2011-05-28T01:51:00.003-04:00

My son likes to arrange his cars and trucks in a single file line across his room. While talking on the phone one day, I found myself unintentionally mimicking my son, organizing the toy cars scattered about. Perhaps it gave my pattern seeking brain a sense of control, making order out of chaos.

Throughout the last 12 months I’ve sought humility in my search, even as it rendered me defenseless against critique. Yet, I’ve been unable to sort out my faith with the ease that I put my son's cars in a row. The breaking point occurred on that Sunday when I listened to a pastor define heresy for the congregation. Much of the delicate progress I had made was shattered in a moment.

I quickly bounced back, but a piece of me was lost in that shuffle. The part of me that remained vulnerable enough to seek and search. I’ve scaled down my reading of blogs because instead of finding solace, I often felt more lost, anguished that I fail to find faith while others follow Jesus after grooming their views and transitioning to more liberal forms of Christianity. The core of my frustration here lies with myself, my difficulty in accepting the present and not obsessing or over-analyzing things. After the discussion over Rob Bell’s new book on hell, I found myself feeling like a ball being tossed about as bloggers (such as Francis Chan) discussed the fate of people like me -- all this mental energy devoted to analysis of the equation for hell while I find no prescription that might lead me to heaven, or at minimum, feel peace about the existence of an afterlife.

I’m not antagonistic towards Christianity and have deep respect for the faith of believers. I’m not antagonistic towards atheists, and think they deserve to be both heard and loved. I’m disappointed, but not angry at the church, for even Scripture does not promise us a perfect church or a perfect people. I think the church, as a whole, needs to redirect its focus away from “right” theology and take a more laid back approach that values the nuances and variability of people’s minds, hearts and experiences. The stereotyping of atheists that is rampant among all Christian circles, even progressive and liberal ones, is a misguided approach. Armenian, Calvinistic and Universalist interpretations of hell fall short when not accompanied by real-life data (see here) on why and how people attain or relinquish faith. Theoretical Christianity will only get us so far without going out into the lab of life and embracing the questions and desires of humanity.

This is where I hit the pause button on my spiritual journey, and take the rest my weary self needs. I do not plan to disappear from the blogosphere entirely, but there shall be a subtle but necessary adjustment in my approach that involves viewing the blogosphere as more of a leisurely hobby than a passionate calling (and there are additional reasons that I have not disclosed yet, but I know you'll understand). I know a part of me will always look towards Christian faith with a curiosity, albeit not with the yearning that left me perpetually disappointed in myself. Perhaps I am making a mistake, but I’m at a loss for an alternative – a way to hold onto my enthusiasm while wearing a thicker skin that would filter out hurtful opinions. Passion and vulnerability are inextricably linked for me, and I know not how to contemplate Christian viewpoints without being so sensitive.

Please know I still welcome your input, advice, perspective and testimony just as much as before - again, let me emphasize that I hold no critique for anyone other than myself and my tendency to put my brain on over-drive. Don't feel like you need to hold back or worry about exerting undue influence upon me towards or against Christianity. I've said this several times already, but let me express AGAIN my deepest appreciation for the thoughts, prayers and support that I've received here on this blog. I treasure my online community that has reminded me that I was not alone in my journey, even if we might be separated by hundreds or thousands of miles.

LAC

Note: I’ll might share some unpublished posts created during my more fervent phase over the next few weeks, since I haven't been in a "writing" mood lately!

Sociological Analysis of Deconversion

2011-05-19T12:47:00.004-04:00

Sociology professor Bradley Wright (University of Connecticut) et al. recently published an a study on deconversion, in which they analyzed fifty online autobiographies of the deconversion narratives from former Christians. Notable quotes include:

"In explaining why they left Christianity, the narrative writers frequently wrote of intellectual and theological concerns. In fact, a full two-thirds (32 of 50, 64%) of the writers raised these concerns, and some wrote of little else."

"The most frequently mentioned role of Christians in deconversion was in amplifying existing doubt. The writers told of sharing their burgeoning doubts with a Christian friend or family member only to receive trite, unhelpful answers. These answers, in turn, moved them further away from Christianity."

"Our findings fit well with some of the themes found in previous studies of deconversion. We found that intellectual doubt was a primary explanation for deconversion..."

"Unlike previous studies, however, we found little evidence of deconversion resulting from broken social bonds. Sometimes the respondents expressed frustration that fellow Christians did not understand them during the deconversion process, but by-and-large they did not explain their decision to leave the faith as one prompted by broken social relationships. Many of the respondents did, however, point to a broken bond with God as a reason for their decision. Rather than having a falling out with fellow church members, they spoke of having one with God."
"In particular, the respondents emphasized predominately “push,” rather than “pull,” factors. Push factors repel people away from Christianity while pull factors attract them to a different worldview. Some intellectual and theological concerns, or aspects of Christian doctrine such as hell, push people away from Christianity, while aspects of a secular, scientific worldview pull them. The other three explanations, however, operate almost exclusively as push factors. Christians are not usually drawn to other belief systems; rather they are put off by the Christian God. They are not lured away by non-believers; rather they are frustrated with believers. Deconversion, therefore, usually represents more of a desire to leave Christianity than an attraction to its alternatives."

For several reasons, I'm not sure if analysis of only 50 narratives captures all the nuances of the process of deconversion, and the study is limited by its focus on online accounts, which will certainly impose bias. As described by Bradley, few of the fifty deconverted Christians admitted ambiguity in their decision, and I wonder if this reflects the certainty one must have to publish an online autobiography with the potential for widespread readership. Additionally, I would have liked to see further explanation for why they characterize deconversion as a "rational choice".

Nonetheless, I encourage you to browse the article. I'm pleased to see someone actually tackling the process of unbelief through a more objective approach than the usual black-and-white Armenian or Calvinistic interpretations that seem lacking in real-world experience. From a purely personal perspective, this study could fuel much-needed conversation on how one might reverse the process of deconversion, once set in motion.

Christian Testimonies - Revisited (2nd try)

2011-05-16T14:31:00.003-04:00

Note: This is my 2nd attempt at posting this testimony, after having the first one lost during Blogger's technical difficulties.

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As promised in my last post, I'm sharing a copy of an email I received from a reader and fellow sojourner that embraces evolution while still retaining faith. I'd also like to point you towards my Christian Testimonies post in which I request faith accounts of believers. This post seems to be the most popular on my blog, and if you are a believer, feel free to contribute. In light of my current agnosticism and periods of unbelief, I know it might seem odd for me to post a testimony. However, I recognize we are all on a journey, myself included, and even if faith eludes me right now, perhaps I can be the instrument by which someone else finds faith.

I read your blog off and on when I find the time. It is very thoughtful (and therefore you must be also). When I first read "my story thus far" I practically cried, only because your heartache so closely mirrored mine. You are on a difficult road, but you should know you aren't alone. Well, in brief, I want to let you know that I'm a heretic. I'm an evolutionary believing biologist for over 20 years. I went to a conservative Christian university with excellent biologists who were also Christians and also evolutionists. Through the years I've had Fundamentalists (which I once would have called myself) call me a heretic and infidel down through the years, and some more polite ones say that they would pray for me (and by all means I welcome prayer, but that won't serve to unwravel evolution). Anyway, these are the areas where I'm a heretic (or not, as the case may be). I believe that it is highly likely that most of Genesis is not historical (I'll leave out my thoughts on whether or not it is theologically relevant, except to say that I think it is relevant if there is in fact a God). I won't even go into what I think is historically "true" and what isn't true in the Old Testament because I'm not enough of an expert to be relevant. I believe the virgin birth may be possible (if there is a God), but I don't believe it is central to the person who Jesus was, nor am I sure that the earliest Christians believed it. Therefore, though I acknowledge it could have happened I don't honestly see a lot of support for it in the New Testament. I think the church's approach to the issue of homosexuality is in error. I believe calls to accepting the Biblical literature as "all true" is more heretical in some ways than the manner of my approach. I think the conventional Protestant understanding of hell is wrong, and I don't think a clear picture of what hell is (or heaven, for that matter) can be achieved without picking and choosing the emphasis of some Scriptures over others. I don't think we should worry about it, either (I do worry about heaven in that I just hope there is one). In the Gospels Jesus talked more about hell in the context of the religious elite and those that were already following him than those who did not know Him. I believe that if there is a God, he can handle my "heresies." I trust that He is much bigger than what an ancient tribe of people could discern, and certainly much bigger than what conservative Christians today can discern.

The Resurrection is impossible. A man could not possibly rise from the dead. Needing Jesus as a personal sacrifice to atone for our sins sounds sort of silly. Afterall, why would an all powerful God need to do this (I know I'm making light of a lot of theology which deserves more thought than my casual dismissal here, but I digress)? I make sense of Jesus as a sacrifice for my sin only in the light of His cultural context in a society that was in part already defined by sacrifices. Sometimes I see it as a way for God to tell us "Here is my son, already, now stop killing all these animals." I find this to be an ancient world that I can not even begin to relate to. And yet...I cling to the Resurrection as the last hope. I know it couldn't happen, but isn't that what constitutes a miracle? Indeed, if there is one way for God to show us what life is about in a manner that is beyond our own evolution, Jesus is it. The Israelites wanted a Messiah, they got somebody who was counter evolutionary. If I didn't have hindsight and tried to predict what the Messiah would be like (conformed to my own evolutionary defined outlook on life), I would not predict Jesus. He is the opposite of myself, and most of humanity, unfortunately. I'm afraid we haven't "evolved" much, either. Look at the leading choices for President by conservative Christians. What a joke! I see little of these people that overlaps with the Person of the Gospels. It's as if God, if He exists, took the moment to proclaim what He was really like, not all the silly rubbish we think He should look like. Apparently He was so counter evolutionary that we still have a hard time following the basics of what the Gospels proclaim that He proclaimed. Of course, he turns out to be the opposite of most of us and of what most of us would have expected. Humility, love, sacrifice, peace, forgiveness etc.. If there is a God, this is the only sort that I could believe in because it is so clearly the opposite of my own nature (sadly) that it is easier for me to grasp that this revelation of God might be authentic. He then validated all of this by death and then life, apparently. I can't prove it, and the whole thing seems ridiculous, but I still believe it because it makes sense to me in a weird paradoxical way. The very heart of the Gospel has always been an intellectual scandal. Sure, the NT authors may have gotten it all wrong, and Paul might have just been a bit loopy (though I don't think either is the best explanation), but my impression is that they also understood the scandal (even considering that their culture believed in the possibility of resurrection). Regardless, people subject to the same idiocy that I am (e.g. the stupid and regrettable things that I do day to day) recorded something completely outside of their evolutionary inclinations. I cling to hope that they are right, not knowing with any certainty that they are. I have had authentic religious experiences in the past where I was certain God was showing His love to me. I've heard countless others from other people, and yet I've doubted them all...which in someway seems more intellectually dishonest than not. Are they all rubbish, is the collective religious experience of humanity useless, or is God that whisper blowing on the back of our necks amidst the windstorm? In the end, I don't know, but I cling to hope. It's all I've got. Others clung to it before me. I'll hold on too, not with the confident (sometimes arrogant) faith of those whom you know all too well yourself, but with a fragile string of faith that nervously scrapes the precipice while I dangle from the cliff. Funny, only in my doubt and questions have I found what authentic faith really is...I think. I'll fight the good fight because what comes out of it it best defines the way in which I relate to all those things around me that I love and struggle for. Family, friends, justice, love, life, redemption and hope. Everything that matters the most and makes sense to me makes more sense in the light of the Gospel then in the dark without it. So with hope upon hope, maybe God really did give us a glimpse into our future when we first peered into the empty tomb.

I'm not saying you should have faith based on anything I said. For all I know what I've said may give you more doubt. What I'm saying is go ahead and doubt, but keep hope alive which keeps faith alive, you never know when you might encounter some revelation that will suddenly make sense of it all for you (and you'll also know from experience that you still haven't made sense of it all). Be a heretic, it's O.K., God, if He exists, is bigger than the labels we put on ourselves. I'm not saying chuck all of Scripture out the window, I'm saying it is O.K. to struggle with it and with the common dogma applied to it. It's even O.K. to not believe it, but it serves better as a source of strength than a source of doubt (and yes, parts of it I turn to for strength while other parts fuel my doubts).

Take care and God bless,
Name removed for privacy

Reprinted with permission of author

Existential Crisis

2011-05-10T10:51:00.006-04:00

I’ve distanced myself from labels hoping I might find peace. I have not. My pangs of unbelief still provoke an emotional backlash, although now much more subtle. I’m not sure what is worse, a crisis of faith or an existential crisis. Crisis is probably not an appropriate name for either condition, because, save for my husband, no one knows the depths of my questions were they not reading my blog. My husband has had some of these questions too during different times of his life, but they don’t torture him like they do for me.

So I put on my happy face, because the outside world is simply not a safe place to discuss these philosophical questions and nihilistic thoughts. The pain remains internal, repressed, unworthy to be mentioned. My daily life is not altered. I'm getting everything I need to get done. I don't feel depressed. But I often wake up each morning wondering...why? Questioning meaning in the little things that once sparked my interest – reading, learning, decorating and photography, among other things. I see it all in its bitter reality of a “chasing after the wind” (reference to Ecclesiastes).

I meditate upon the explanatory value of evolution to enlighten us on how such complex creatures as humans roam this planet. Something doesn’t quite add up. I’m not questioning evolution per se, just the fuzzy part that somehow made something from nothing. Having a God who masterminded the process of evolution (theistic evolution) just makes much more sense than both atheistic evolution and 7-day literal creationism*. But then who made God? How can this lead me to Christianity, with my struggle to believe in a literal resurrection of Jesus. How might I even begin to understand what exactly is a personal relationship with Christ, and whether it is essential to call myself Christian?

This is my existential crisis, in a nutshell. If hell is the absence of God, I am currently experiencing my own personalized version of hell. In my intellectual pain, I’ve opened up myself to whole new level of vulnerability, because it is only natural for that little thought to creep into my mind, telling me this is all my fault – the demons come back to taunt me, those that told me evolution and academic scholarship was from Satan, that taking a break from church was the ultimate sin.

For me, there is no contentment to be found in atheism. I seem to have a God-shaped hole, and I’m constantly aware of the vacuum within. I long for faith like I craved chocolate when I was pregnant. Whether I am evolutionarily wired to believe, or my longing for God is mere evidence of his existence, I’m not sure. But in the last few weeks, I’ve been to atheism and back, and I cannot return there. Instead, I can only cry out:

Lord, “help me in my unbelief” (reference to Mark 9:24)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 19:35)

And then I go hug my kids, perhaps fold some laundry…and the daily rituals of my life numb the unknowing.

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I'm not going to just leave you with these despairing thoughts, and in my next post, I will include a testimony left by an Christian who embraces evolution that welcomed me in my inbox last week, and thoroughly warmed my heart. Additionally, I encourage you to check out Rachel Held Evan's latest post that inspired me to get this post down in writing. I had been mentally composing these thoughts in while jogging this morning, but I was hesitant to share, until I read her post.

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*You’ll notice I don’t discuss intelligent design. I find its presuppositions to be faulty, and the theory is not well regarded by most academic scientists. As such, my respect for science, flaws and all, prevent me from embracing this theory. I discuss my views on evolution and reservations about intelligent design more in detail here:

Plethora of Viewpoints

Chaos in My Mind, Peace in my Soul

Theology of A.A. Milne

2011-05-08T00:02:00.008-04:00

My little girl turns seven today. In anticipation of her big day, we finished reading Now We Are Six. This is the last of a four book children's series by A.A. Milne (creator of the original Winnie-the-Pooh). I wanted to share a few excerpts of the poem "Explained" since it shares parallels with the "like a child" motto of my blog (I suspect it would be a copyright infringement to include the entire poem).

In the poem, a little girl asks her nanny a very important question:

Elizabeth Ann
Said to her Nan:
"Please will you tell me how God began?
Somebody must have made Him. So
Who could it be, 'cos I want to know?"

The question gets promptly ignored. So the girl decides to search for someone who can answer her request:

"Elizabeth Ann
Had a wonderful plan:
She would run round the world till she found a man
Who knew exactly how God began.

Elizabeth Ann offers her query to this "important man", a so-called "Lord High Doodelum". But again, she finds her question unanswered. Upon returning home, she asks her doll:

3 yrs old

"Elizabeth Ann went home again
And took from the ottoman Jennifer Jane.
"Jenniferjane," said Elizabeth Ann,
"Tell me at once how God began."
And Jane, who didn't much care for speaking,
Replied in her usual way by squeaking."

What did it mean? Well, to be quite candid,
I don't know, but Elizabeth Ann did.
Elizabeth Ann said softly, "Oh!
Thank you, Jennifer. Now I know."

I'd encourage parents of young children to check out A.A. Milne's fun and witty works. My favorites are the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, but my daughter has really enjoyed the poetry, much to my surprise. I look forward to dusting off these books in a year or so to read them with my son!

Reflections on Unity

2011-05-04T12:46:00.008-04:00

I'm still processing my experience from Sunday, and how it applies to my appeal for love, my apprehension of labels, and my budding optimism that is now all but gone.

I am in reflection mode. Words escape me. Instead, I share two quotes that caught my eye - woven together, they describe the paradox of love and heresy:

"Is it possible, psychologically speaking, to love a person you feel is a heretic? We are not talking here about being nice and pleasant, everyone can slap a smile on their face for a few minutes, we are talking about actually loving this person.

Is it, psychologically speaking, possible to love someone when they are violating a moral conviction of yours? To, as they say, "hate the sin but love the sinner." Or, in this case, to "hate the heresy but love the heretic"?

It might be possible, but I expect that it is the very rare exception rather than the rule. And it's not hard to see why given the psychology of moral convictions. You feel the heretic is a malevolent agent, a person damaging the faith and the faith of others. And in light of this it would be very hard for you could love this person given what you think they are doing."

by Richard Beck of Experimental Theology

This is the reality. I am one of those caught in the battle for "moral convictions".

Is there hope for me? I cling to these rather idealistic thoughts:

"And us wounded ones who have lost parts of ourselves in the battle, who walk around with gaping, bleeding emptiness, who feel the longing for something we have lost but can never seem to find, who yearn for a home that always seems to elude us and a wholeness that is never quite ours, perhaps that aching is itself an answer from God? That our craving for Him is a way of experiencing Him. And in our hungering for God, we are slowly healed by God."

a quote from Ann Voskamp's blog, A Holy Experience -- Letters to the Wounded: When You Wonder, Where is God (H/T to Hillary from the blog Quivering Daughters)

...Is A Heretic

2011-05-02T21:59:00.007-04:00

Three words that have plagued me since hearing them spoken at a church I attended while visiting dear friends in a neighboring state this past Sunday. The object of this statement is unimportant right now (although I'm sure you can venture a guess). My message is simply that a conservative Christian pastor has labeled a progressive Christian as heretic to a decent-sized church in America...and the irony is that I had just posted here a call for love a few hours prior to visiting this church. My friends were just as surprised to hear these statements as we were. They are a compassionate and humble family that has done nothing but support and encourage me throughout my journey of doubt (and one of the few that know the depths of my struggles). Their hopes were high that attending the church might provide me a refuge for peace and healing. While I know we all were left disheartened by the provocative nature of the sermon and its awkward timing, I have the hardest time bouncing back.

My spirit is broken.

These three words have had the power to extinguish the optimism that was building within me (evidenced in my last three posts). The heresy label inflicts new wounds within me while stirring old sores not fully healed.

I am weak.

I am not at a point in my journey where I can filter out decrees of heresy or feel secure enough to know that I am not heading down a wrong path by reading progressive and emerging scholarship. I am vulnerable as long as I remain in this blur of questions. A mixture of extreme humility and insecurity forces me to consider and reconsider these three words that play in my mind over and over again -- a ringing in my ears from the cacophony of voices. Conflict when I seek peace. Segregation when I ask for reconciliation.

I am hurting.

I wonder if I am indeed a heretic? Was I wrong to embrace evolution and its inherent need for narrative theology? Questioning hell and Calvinism? Have I completely lost my way? Has progressive theology lead me astray? Is this why I feel so bruised and lost.

I am tired.

I'm exhausted with battling questions that I did not seek, thrust upon me by conservative evangelicalism...questions of science, theology and even parenting. I've inadvertently stumbled upon the crossfire between conservatives, liberals and progressives.

I'm not a fighter.

I don't want to join in this battle. There is no joy to be found here. I seek faith, hope and love. That's all.

Love Never Fails

2011-05-01T07:00:00.002-04:00

This post is dedicated to Rachel Held Evan's Rally to Restore Unity campaign to raise funds for Charity:Water.

****************************************

For this former Floridian, temperatures below 60 degrees send me to shivers. After a particularly cold winter in North Carolina, the warmth and liveliness of spring was long past due. As spring birthed gorgeous days marked with the vibrant green of the budding leaves and the myriad of colors from the blossoming cherry, dogwood and azaleas, I was reminded of similarly beautiful days last September when I was in such despair that I was stuck in bed, unwilling to face the agnostic and atheist direction of my thoughts.

Not much has changed intellectually since that fitful September day, and while my theology and spiritually still lay in ruin, I’m letting go of the pressure to rebuild ASAP. As told in Ecclesiastes, there is

“a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak." (Ecclesiastes 3:3-7).

My husband has acclimated to my new, convoluted worldview and is riding out the storm with me, for better or for worse, regardless of whether it takes me to Christianity or not. My parents are a work in progress, but after sharing the extent of my sorrows over my loss of faith, they too give me breathing room. My humble goal is to take it one day at a time, trying not to fret over how I might portray my spirituality to my children that really have no need for answers just yet. They merely require love.

Love seems to be the remedy to my own despair - not apologetics, critique or even the church community that I had so painstakenly sought after. I know - it sounds cliched and unoriginal to invoke love as the overarching answer to intellectual questions. Using the emotional, subjective tactic of love insults my hyper-rationalistc personality, and probably flies in the face of conventional academic thought.

It will seem completely counter-intuitive to take advice from a doubter, and I will be the first to affirm my own hesitations over providing advice. I am far from being a mentor. Yet, I feel passionate about sharing what has helped pass the days in this valley of existential questioning.

So if someone you care about is considering walking away from Christianity and showing signs of distress, shower them not with books or sermons, but first and foremost, display love. Love may mean letting go of the temptation to convince or persuade. Giving space. Offering kindness and gentleness. Listening without judging. Putting yourself in their shoes and acknowledging their questions, their pain, their hurt. Let them heal from any spiritual wounds, giving them the freedom to question, discover, doubt, and even disbelieve. And above all, always be their friend.

If nothing else, look at the world through the perspective of a doubter, skeptic, agnostic or atheist, and remember this:

“If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing....Love is patient, love is kind...Love never fails" (1 Corinthians 2,4,7)

Labels - Weapons or Armor?

2011-04-28T22:10:00.001-04:00

Labels are futile when utilized as weapons to fight or armors to defend. Labels can propagate stereotypes and hinder conversation. I desperately wanted to wave a white flag of peace by embracing the agnostic Christian label. The terminology now feels awkward, for when I dissected my motivations, it became clear that the label represented, in part, my desire to control my future and shield myself from critique.

Child-sized chess

As I continued to decompress my own prejudices, I realized my own deep-set biases. The deconstruction was not yet complete. I confess my own prejudices here. I was scared.

So what am I?

I am a daughter, sister, wife, mom and friend. I cannot be pigeon-holed into a discrete spiritual label in this dynamic journey of mine.

I am agnostic in that I personally don’t know, but I will not make a blanket statement that we can’t know or it is not worth trying. Atheistic evolution does not provide me enough explanatory power to satisfy my existential quandary, and my brief time in science left a lasting humility of how little we truly know, and how often we err. Christianity’s embrace of the resurrection is difficult for me, but I acknowledge that my emotional church wounds can blur my vision. The term seeker perhaps gets closer to where I’m at, but as a mommy to two young kids, I simply cannot invest the time into researching that which my mind seems to crave. I admire anyone that has found a label that fits – the faith and passion of believers, the contentment of atheists, the peace of happy agnostics.

But I must leave myself vulnerable, without a label.

I am humbled by my confusion. Slowly I am learning to embrace my imperfections, the limits of my intellect, the ability of my emotions to terrorize or enlighten me, and even those pesky existential thoughts. I strive to be content with the unknowing – the mystery of creation – while still hoping for a vision and an over-arching purpose.

And I vow never to use labels flippantly to protect, defend, segregate, condemn, judge or slander.

Will you join me?

Let us aim for conversation without vitriol - to disagree charitably, persuade humbly, and above all, display the unconditional love that heals. I urge you to consider Rachel Held Evan's Rally to Restore Unity campaign to raise funds for Charity:Water and thus provide clean drinking water to those who lack. Since my next planned post (already written) meshed so well with Rachel's theme of unity, I plan to participate in the synchroblog next week.

A New Chapter of Healing (with a twist)

2011-04-24T02:24:00.003-04:00

As I take time away from church, the negative voices, emotions and memories subside, clearing the way for kinder and gentler ones. Online and local community has been instrumental to lifting the darkness. My husband and even my parents are supportive. I’ve found a network of friends where I feel comfortable sharing tidbits of my journey. Had I not experienced the despair, perhaps my faith struggles would not have been understood.

Hickory Nut Falls

I still have my moments of anxiety, self-depreciation and helplessness, in which I must confess envy of anyone finding peace in their journey. I feel shame as I reflect upon how others might perceive me. I am often overtaken by existential thoughts in the quiet moments of the day, prompting me to wonder if we are more than the sum of our parts (thankfully, with two active kiddos, tranquil moments are quite rare).

Yet, I am determined to heal, finding comfort in being myself and not wearing a façade. Perhaps I will learn to trust once more in a new symphony of voices that cherishes me just as I am, warts and all, guiding me towards a more satisfying faith, with the humility in knowing that faith might always be beyond my reach.

My journey has taken me through a complex and varied set of thoughts and emotions. I think I am entering a new chapter...

…in which I learn to be loved.

This is a time that I often reflect upon a quote from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity:

"Now that I am a Christian I do have moods in which the whole thing looks improbable: but when I was an ~~atheist~~ [agnostic] I had moods in which Christianity looked terribly probable [quote altered]."

After spending my life feeling like the former, it is a blessed irony to reside in the latter, because those rare microseconds where Christianity looks “terribly probable” makes the doldrums of this journey more fulfilling than the whole of my doubt-ridden former phase of Christianity. I’ll close by offering the song Adagio for Strings by composer Samuel Barber. The majesty of the notes and beauty of nature scenes leaves me awestruck, and for a moment, free of doubt.

Addendum: While this post was written over the last few weeks, I delayed in posting due vacation, a hectic week and a respiratory virus. Since writing these thoughts, the holiday of Easter, with its emphasis on the bodily resurrection of Jesus, has provoked a particularly intense series of existential questions that threatened the optimism that flows from this post. Nevertheless, I’ll go ahead with my plan to share this post, as much for myself as for my readers.

Ecclesiaphobia and Pascal’s Wager

2011-04-15T23:29:00.003-04:00

After a month break, I attended a church service last Sunday, and only because my daughter was scheduled to sing in the choir. After feeling some peace about my journey and visualizing some healing, I entered the church in positive spirits. As the service ensued in this progressive-leaning mainline Methodist church, my emotions sabotaged my ability to enjoy the service as panic set in what was obviously a completely subconscious, unprovoked reaction. My heart starts to race, nausea sets in, and I feel this knot at the depths of my stomach. If you have ever experienced a panic attack or any type of irrational phobia, you'll resonate with this description. It probably didn't help that I was juggling my two kids on my own while my husband was on call.

Photo of church in our travels (2006)
San Diego Mission Church

I’ll offer up a term for my newfound predicament -- ecclesiaphobia (ecclesia is Latin for church)*. This response developed shortly after self-describing myself as agnostic Christian a few months ago, and might be explained by delayed PTSD-like symptoms from former church experiences, a overly prolonged church hunt, my own spiritual self-flagellation, and a fear of being ostracized from the greater Christian community. This particular church is not to blame in any way, but my past seems to haunt me, as I have been primed to expect judgment from any church, regardless of its liberal or conservative theological stance. No thanks to this phobia, I continue my sabbatical from Sunday morning church services. The agnostic Christian label doesn’t quite fit anymore.

I have failed Pascal’s wager, which assumes that participating in church will actually be a healthy event, free from the emotional baggage.

I need a break. I need healing. Taking time off doesn’t mean forever.

Pascal’s Wager
“You would like to attain faith, and do not know the way; you would like to cure yourself of unbelief, and ask the remedy for it. Learn of those who have been bound like you, and who now stake all their possessions. These are people who know the way which you would follow, and who are cured of an ill of which you would be cured. Follow the way by which they began; by acting as if they believed, taking the holy water, having masses said, etc. Even this will naturally make you believe, and deaden your acuteness.” Blaise Pascal

*An internet search for ecclesiaphobia failed to yield much info, other than an alternate spelling of ecclesiophobia.

Science versus Biblical Studies

2011-04-11T00:47:00.006-04:00

Scientist in the works?

During graduate school in the biomedical sciences, I did not research the original data for every theory that formed the foundation of my experiments, or else I would have accomplished little. Trust, along with a healthy dose of skepticism, forms the basic framework of the scientific peer review process (and don't worry, I'm not naive about the competition, bias and politics that litter the sciences, courtesy of my research experience and a bioethics internship). In spite of the flaws of academic research, grant funding and the publication process, we still achieve medical and scientific discoveries, developing consensus over certain overarching theories.

In contrast to the sciences, I find ambiguity in the historical Jesus studies, and when I read between the lines, I see more discontinuity than even the sciences. Choosing a scholar seems more perplexing than embracing Christianity itself. MR Licona, Nt Wright, Luke Timothy Johnston, EP Sanders, Marcus Borg, John Dominac Crossan, or Bart Ehrman are some of the prominent names I see in the spectrum of historical studies that come to varied conclusions of what it means to be an academic, Jesus scholar and how it effects faith in the resurrection. Each time I browse the religion section of my local library, I leave empty handed, confounded by the array of books.

In addition to the conflicts within Biblical studies, I find little harmony on what constitutes post-inerrancy, progressive Christianity -- literal resurrection or a passion for His teaching. While a symbiosis of both is generally the pre-requisite for acceptance into many church communities, since I can’t pinpoint a scholar to trust, I fail to embrace Christianity with the degree of confidence I would a long-established (albeit still falsifiable) scientific theory.

To find my way back to Christianity, I’ve entertained the idea of enrolling in a divinity school so that I might appreciate the nuances of Biblical scholarship. The thought dissipates as quickly as it develops when I remind myself that besides being a mom, my passion (and my degree) lies in the sciences. I should not have to delve so deeply into Christianity just to foster faith. But am I alone in feeling pressure to become an amateur scholar in the wake of fundamentalism’s damage to my infrastructure of trust? After years of deferring my doubts and basing my faith on the opinions of others, isn’t this period of disenchantment to be expected? Perhaps now that I’m starting with a blank slate, I will be able to navigate this sea of theological opinions, and in the words of my husband in a guest post here last fall, “cultivate a genuine faith, custom-fit to the needs of [my] intellect and mind”. And it might not look like anything like what we expected.

*Consult the website Early Christian Writings for a summary of these diverse views on the historical Jesus.

A Note of Appreciation to Chesha and Sherry

2011-04-07T11:44:00.004-04:00

Depending on the day, this blog is either a blessing or a curse as I find comfort or fear in the words that pour from my mind. As my emotions stabilize, I consider stepping away from this time-drain of a blog as I ask myself if these writings are truly the mark I want to leave in this world. My true passion lies in helping others, and I’m concerned that I might be stirring disorder in the life of another doubter as I try to create order out of the chaos in my own. But each time I consider a sabbatical, this blog undoubtedly lures me back in. This week was one of those moments when I had the privilege to be touched by the responses from two lovely ladies to my blog ramblings.

I hastily read these responses like a child unwrapping a present, going back to re-read them several times to make sure I wasn’t imagining the kindness and love from which them flowed. I was going to repost them here, but instead I encourage you to visit and peruse the blogs of Chesha in Motion and Walking in the Shadows (Sherry), so that you perhaps might find two more gems to add to your reading list. Thank you Chesha and Sherry for making what should have been an ordinary week a little more extraordinary. I am honored to share in your online friendship.

LAC

Perspective: Weed or Flower?

2011-04-04T00:24:00.006-04:00

Perspective changes everything. Where I see a weed, my daughter sees a beautiful flower worthy to give to her mama.

Weed or a flower?
Mommy and Daughter

My field of view within Christianity is littered with weeds.

Where some see God’s grace, I grieve for the un-elect.

Where some praise God’s sovereignty, I shudder at eternal conscious suffering.

Where some shun apostates, I resonate with their questions.

Monkey See Monkey Do
Daddy and Son

Where some obtain solace in their Bibles, I find confusion.

Where some worship with joy, I am riddled with anxiety.

Will I be able to see a flower where I once saw a weed?

disclaimer: I can't remember if this photo was of a weed or a flower, but this was the only photo I had in my archives. My daughter's preferred flower is usually a yellow dandelion.

Diverse Ramblings in the Blogosphere

2011-04-01T23:57:00.010-04:00

...my first survey of recent blog posts that caught my eye. I can't promise I'll compile links again in the future, so this list may also be my last;). Besides, there are much better lists out there, such as Ad Hoc Christianity's or Justin Topp's weekly roundup.

Thoughts on slavery by David Henson that struck a chord with me after I toured a historic plantation in Charleston last week.

The young-earth creationist Ken Ham creates a controversy when he attacks Pete Enns' and Susan Wise Bauer's new curriculum at a homeschooling convention. We use a hybird classical approach inspired by Wise and Bauer's "Well-Trained Mind" at home, and I was pleased to read that Bauer does not dissuade students from attending secular universities.

Steve Douglas and George MacDonald discuss Bible hermenuetics and the resultant portrait of God.

Discussion of agnosticism and faith by Eric Reitan.

Terri at Wheat Among Tares describes the job hunting struggles than can be expected by a stay-at-home mom: "it doesn't matter what I believe....it matters what other people, whom I have no control over, believe...other people who look at me and sum me up as a stay-at-home mom with unrelated work experience who has never really utilized her degree". I have uttered similar sentiments myself as a stay-at-home mom of almost seven years with a degree that only serves as evidence of the leaky pipeline in the sciences.

When approaching someone dealing with suffering, death, OR doubt, consult Chaplain Mike's post at the Internet Monk.

Thoughts on free will and Greg Boyd by Richard Beck.

Further musings on hell or Rob Bell by Sean Read, Chad Holtz, David Henson and Richard Beck.

Speaking of Rob Bell, check out this sermon by Pete Rollins given at Bell's Mars Hill Church H/T Arni Z.. Notable quotes include:

"We’re all going to play a game where we all believe and let’s nobody call it out. And why, why not call it out?"

"Church can be like a security blanket. If a child walks into the room and they got a security blanket, they know they are in a room full of people but they don’t feel the horror of the belief. If you take the security blanket away they feel the horror of it. In church sometimes we [have] doubt and we have uncertainty and we have unknowing but as long as it is not expressed in the service we don’t actually have to experience what that’s really like. It’s horrible. It’s terrible. See, when you really experience that life is meaningless, it is devastating."

"We should set fire to our beliefs. We should be courageous to set fire to our churches and then to walk inside and stay there. Because perhaps what we will find is that something will remain in the aftermath of the destruction. Maybe not your beliefs they way were, maybe not all the things that you hold precious to you. Maybe you will find that there are three things left, faith hope and love -- the greatest being love."

[United] Methodist Church?

2011-03-24T11:45:00.002-04:00

In the rural town of Henderson, North Carolina, a United Methodist pastor, Chad Holtz must step down from his position for expressing progressive Christian views on his blog (see AP story here). A few hours away in the university town of Chapel Hill, a United Methodist church is part of a list of progressive churches.

Not having the time to read the original posts that sparked the controversy, I'm sharing these links to stimulate discussion.

Edited 3/25
*An update on this story here. As a layperson and seeker considering the denomination, I'm confused about the dynamics of the Methodist denomination. I have nothing but positive things to say about the Methodist church that we occasionally attend, so this controversy perplexes me.

Ramblings and a Song

2011-03-23T00:53:00.001-04:00

In my little corner of the world, only my husband has been privy to the agony I put myself through, wishing I could turn back the clock and have the struggles disappear.

The tears.

The panic attacks.

The guilt.

But those struggles are meaningless to many evangelical Christians, who will view me with a mixture of pity and disdain if I were to give up my tumultuous journey towards Christianity. Other Christians may not cast judgment, but find me an over-thinking anomaly.

I’m either an outcast or an oddity.

But alas, I can only go forwards, accepting my predicament for what it is. Faith is but a distant memory. My prayers seem hollow. The Bible amplifies my doubt. I can’t bear the thought of reading another book. Practicing Christianity has stirred more angst, for agnostic Christianity truly is a contradiction in terms. I have found myself trapped in a maze, with onlookers chastising me (thanks to the Rob Bell fiasco) that I will end up in hell or have my soul annihilated if I fail to find my way out -- an example of Christianity's own version of “survival of the fittest”?

Perhaps the demolition of my faith is a necessary prerequisite towards a more gratifying perspective on Christianity. As such, I continue on my spiritual journey, even if it means walking through this valley of unbelief. Can I rebuild amongst the ruins of my former belief, relics that left emotional and psychological scars? Can I avoid landmines such as eternal conscious hell, limited atonement, and Piper? I’m not sure, but I must not let my desire to please conjure a false faith. I cannot subject myself to further self-flagellation at the expense of my emotional health and self-esteem.

My children have often been the antidote to my self-depreciation and despair. I am thankful for the privilege of raising these two little people that inspire me every day to strive to love and hope for faith. Let me share a song by Christa Wells that has encouraged me through my darkest moments. Listen to the free audio of the song "My Best Remedy" at her website or in the embedded music below (click on the album photo and select the song):

My Best Remedy (Amazing)
Thank you for making me laugh today
you took me by surprise
Thank you for catching me down at the mouth
You ambushed me with delight
Amazing amazing
I’ll take your medicine anytime
you are my best remedy

Thank you for standing outside my head
‘til I came out to you
You forced me to wash my face in the fresh air
and step my feet in the dew

Chorus
Be here tomorrow when I awake
come running for a dance
Mischievous angel you’ve taken your place in my heart
at last

Chorus x2
I’ll take your medicine anytime
You are my best remedy

Parenting Shibboleths

2011-03-16T19:00:00.007-04:00

"Shibboleths are like badges of belonging. Pronounce them just right, and you are 'one of us!' Mispronounce them, and watch out." Cliff Martin at Outside the Box

In previous posts, I’ve hinted at struggles with mild spiritual abuse, for lack of a better term, but was hesitant to divulge the specific issues due to the challenge of telling my story objectively about a delicate and divisive topic. Spiritual abuse is defined as abuse that “occurs when a person in religious authority or a person with a unique spiritual practice misleads and maltreats another person in the name of God or church.” Since many Christians have such heart-breaking stories of church spiritual abuse, I’m hesitant to over-dramatize my struggles by labeling them as abuse.

It all started in the summer of 2008. With a new baby and a tantrum-prone four-year old, I was desperate for parenting advice. I joined a book club at our church to discuss Ginger Plowman’s “Don’t Make me Count to Three”, marketed as the how-to manual to implement the parenting guidelines of Tedd Tripp’s “Shepherding a Child’s Heart”. Since the book was so highly rated, I figured it would be harmless for me to read it. I planned to ignore the spanking advice, as we had opted for a different style of discipline. The first half of Plowman’s book hooked me in, providing tips for improved communication with your children. Both Tripp and Plowman are proponents of quoting Bible versus while disciplining your children, which seemed like a good idea at the time.

Unfortunately, as an inexperienced parent of young kids (and a doubter), I failed at my attempts to filter out the spanking commands. Here is just a sampling:

To say, “I don’t believe in spanking,“ is to say that God’s ordained methods for child training are wrong. It’s to reject God’s Word. It’s to say that you are wiser than God Himself. (p 100)

Spanking is part of God’s ordained method for driving the foolishness out of the hearts of our children. We are told in Proverbs 22:15: “Folly is bound up in the heart of a child but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him.” (p 100)

Why are parents discouraged to the point of giving up? Why isn’t discipline working with their children?...It’s because they are not following the instructions in the “instruction manual”, the Bible. (p 107)

When parents administer the rod they are not merely punishing their children. They are obeying the responsibility that God has given them. The rod is somewhat of a mystery in how it works but we can be confident that while we are obeying God and working on the buttocks, God is honoring our obedience and working on the heart. Therefore, if you are going to rescue your child from death, if you are going to uproot and drive the foolishness out of his heart, and if you are going to impart wisdom, you must use the rod. (p 109)

Who benefits from your decision to not spank your child? Certainly not the child. Proverbs 23 makes it clear that failure to discipline with the rod places the child at risk. So who benefits from not using the rod? You do. You are delivered form the discomfort of spanking your child. You are delivered from inflicting pain on the one who is so precious to you. You are delivered from the inconvenience of taking the time to discipline the right way. But God says, “He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to discipline him”(Prov 13:24). (p 110)

Since Plowman advocated spanking as the only appropriate Biblical model of parenting, my failure to implement it signaled disobedience of God’s Word and possible harm to my children. My self-confidence took a dive as I entered a period of introspection over my bias against spanking. Without realizing it, doubts over whether I was “elect” grew exponentially.

Please don’t take this as a personal critique against spanking, for I respect the necessary diversity in how we raise children. I merely want to emphasize the dangers of turning spanking into a shibboleth of Christianity; spanking is not a core doctrine. After surviving college courses on evolution and higher biblical criticism, you can imagine the frustration with which I tell this story of how an obscure little parenting book triggered (in part) the collapse of my house of cards. To this day, I carry subconscious guilt over not spanking, often blaming myself when my children misbehave. I’ll close with an excerpt from a comment left by Aletheia (at the blog Sunshine and Starlight) to one of my posts:

“And yet my former ideas about the Bible keep hanging on. They cling like barnacles and I've had a hard time removing them and keeping them gone.”

Wesley's Quadrilateral Maze

2011-03-10T15:09:00.005-05:00

Wesley's Quadrilateral is a representation of how Christian faith is shaped by four different pathways - reason, scripture, experience and tradition.

A few weeks ago, I scribbled this little maze on a note-pad in an attempt to vent my frustration while lacking the words to describe my thoughts. Today, instead of a long, drawn out blog post, I thought I'd share my sketch with you.

The maze ended up being a commentary on how Wesley's Quadrilateral has played out in my faith struggles. You'll note that I added another pathway - inerrancy. I wasn't actually thinking about the Quadrilateral while doodling the maze, so it just so happened that I ended up with five instead of four pathways.

When my husband noticed the note-pad, he took the liberty of suggesting yet another pathway that I might take to obtain faith. Sometimes a little laughter is the best antidote to doubt, I should think!

Hello...Universalism

2011-03-03T23:16:00.003-05:00

photo © 2010 Sean Michel | more info (via: Wylio)
The subject of universalism has created a stir in the blogosphere. A few years ago, I might have labeled universalism unbiblical, purely a reflection of indoctrination and uncritical thinking on my part. Until my crisis of faith last year, I held a Armenian/Calvinist hybrid model of hell in which individuals had the free-will to make the initial bias towards belief, but God was responsible for inspiring faith. Eventually though, the implications of Calvinism insulted my moral compass and aggravated the problem of evil to a point that I could no longer suppress the doubts, feeling powerless to make a self-motivated choice to believe. Perhaps I should be thankful, for my midnight angst over the status of my election planted within me the seeds of empathy for the plight of the unelect, while desensitizing me of the implications of atheistic evolution, which seemed more rich and meaningful than believing in a racist god that hard-wires salvation into a select few.

Six months ago, while in the depths of my dark night of the soul, the current neo-Calvinist ruckus might have sent me to tears. Nowadays, it cements my apprehension towards the traditional constructs of heaven and hell, best expressed by quoting Steve Douglas at his blog, Undeception:

It is completely understandable that many who come down the road as far as I have will think they see the handwriting on the wall and jump out of the sinking ship. I get it. And at this point in my faith journey, I doubt God Himself will ultimately lay the blunt of the blame on them for it.

I simply cannot conceive of a God that sends so many doubters and skeptics, agnostics and atheists to hell. I have not a biblical studies degree nor extensive knowledge of the Bible to have a platform upon which to voice my beliefs. My opinion rests purely on experience -- the emotional roller coaster of doubt that has personified my life for the last 12 months. Perhaps I am guilty of wishful thinking, looking at the Bible through rose-colored glasses to force it to mesh with what feels right in the depths of my soul that cannot endure the idea of so many facing eternal brimstone and fire, temporary purgatory, or even just ceasing to exist (annihilation of the soul). My only chance of recapturing Christian faith seems to be under the umbrella of universalism, for if I were to inhibit my bias towards universalism, I would also erase my internal footprint of God's grace, creating a stumbling block that might invalidate my search. If it makes me guilty of heresy to want to embrace universalism, so be it.

What do you think? Am I in left field by desiring universalism? Is there a biblical justification for my views, and can I remain in orthodox Christianity? If not, how can I mesh the Bible with my experience that points me towards universalism? With such a diversity of views, why aren't more Christians agnostic on the subject?

Before I close, let me highlight a few posts that provided excellent commentaries on the Bell v. Piper controversy:

While We Are Talking about Rob Bell by Sunshine and Starlight
When We All Get to Heaven by Ted Troxell at Religions at the Margins/Irritable Reaching
Believe Correct Things and Thou Shalt be Saved by Cognitive Discopants
Waiting for Rob Bell at Jesus Creed (with a very passionate stream of comments that are worth a read)

Interplay between Intellectual Doubt and Emotional Well-Being

2011-02-27T15:28:00.010-05:00

My Son's Security Blanket - "taggie"

I’ve experienced a whirlwind of emotions since we left our church in the fall of 2009. The beginning of 2010 was marked by a sense of abandonment by God, the after-effects of Calvinism. I felt nostalgia over my church friendships that collapsed without the nurturing provided by Sunday attendance, weekly Bible studies and fellowship activities. The months that followed were characterized by emotional highs and lows that coincided with my erratic spiritual journey. By the fall of 2010, excitement over finding faith was replaced with sorrow over dismantled faith. I developed deconversion-like psychological symptoms from my newfound agnosticism about the divinity of Christ, struggling with the idea that life on Earth was all there was, something that all thinking atheists, agnostics, and progressive Christians must surely confront as well. Scattered throughout my journey are feelings of guilt in which I re-trace my steps to see where I've faltered and if I've fallen into Satan's trap by refuting inerrancy, embracing evolution and reading progressive Bible scholarship – a slippery slope I need not have entered.

I’ve wondered if the emotional response to my skepticism could be labeled a psychological disorder. However, surely a diagnosis must be complicated by a church upbringing that has taught me to abhor the very thought processes that now run through my mind? Further, the altered emotions did not chronically afflict me, but coincided with a radical worldview shift that shattered a lifelong desire for faith. The flux of my emotions might be explained by a psychological defense mechanism against change – a separation anxiety, if you will. My little girl is much the same way, often paralyzed when confronted with a new environment, clinging to the security of mom or dad. After removing the security blanket of certainty and comfort of a church community, my body entered a state of shock, a flight or fight response. The biochemical basis for these emotions is likely similar to that for any other change in one's life (i.e. death, moving, loosing a job, etc). Regaining equilibrium takes time.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped crying, both literally and figuratively, by the end of 2010, even while lacking a satisfying resolution to the doubts that instigated the initial anxieties. I evolved, emotionally, without accomplishing anything, intellectually. This adaptation was described by Rachel Held Evans in her book, Evolving in Monkey Town, but never truly resonated with me until I realized that the process of evolution will look differently for each person’s unique journey, taking them to different places. Though I would not want to revisit the despair, it prompted period of fervency and deconstruction. Apathy was the unfortunate cousin to despair – a feeling of numbness that impeded motivation and creativity. Throughout the winter months, apathy was a vice that dulled the question of “Why Christianity?”, replacing it with “Why Try?”.

Currently, I am at a loss for words that illustrate the set of emotions brewing within me. No longer am I besieged with the despair, guilt, or apathy I've described above. After an Internet search, I’m finding terms such as depersonalization or dissociation that approximate my living of life just going through the motions, not fitting in anywhere. As I try to seek out a Christian community to transcend the agnosticism, I end up stifling my uncertainty to avoid being judged. The wounds left from past church experiences sabotage my attempts to be vulnerable. And while blogging has enhanced some parts of my spiritual journey, it has likely contributed to the dissociation. In seeking the refuge of blogging anonymity, I've contrived an artificial display of happiness to real life family and friends, compartmentalizing my struggles and hindering the healing process.

I'd like to turn down the thinking, pacify my emotions and immerse myself in helping others, irregardless of my spiritual journey. As such, it may be helpful for me to address the psychological reactions in a non-anonymous way so that I can continue to wrestle with Christianity intellectually, perhaps learning a lesson in how to help others in the future. As the emotions stabilize, my hope is that the cloud over my head will clear to make sense of the dizzying array of opinions within (and outside) of Christianity. I want to make a rational decision, not an emotional response. The options include Christianity (whether orthodox, narrative, or progressive), agnostic Christianity, or plain old agnosticism (and maybe a little bit of deism and panentheism sprinkled in). Although I respect the atheist point of view, I do not gravitate towards it myself whilst I embrace the original metaphor that set my blog in motion; when I view the world through a child’s lens, somewhere, somehow, humankind has lost a piece in this mysterious puzzle we call life.

Bart Ehrman versus Conservative, Progressive and Orthodox Christianity

2011-02-18T23:56:00.016-05:00

Many of you have likely heard of Dr. Bart Ehrman, New Testament professor and best-selling author who transitioned from fundamentalist Christianity to progressive Christianity and finally settled upon agnosticism. Ironically, his deconversion did not originate from his Biblical studies, but over the problem of suffering. I have not read Ehrman's work personally, but his story has intrigued me for reasons I’ll describe shortly.

Over the past two months, Ehrman’s scholarship has incited an upsurge of both conversation and controversy within Christianity. I will briefly discuss some of these voices that address Ehrman’s work from conservative (here), progressive (here and here), and Greek Orthodox points of view (here and here). Alternatively, feel free to bypass reading my post by following the aforementioned links. Since I'm not a Biblical scholar, I feel much like an outsider peering in on these various opinions that often confuse and perplex me ("gongs and cymbals" as described in my previous post). Furthermore, as a full time mom, I have neither the time nor resources to fully delve into the questions, so in this post I take on the role of a journalist rather than a critic.

I first learned about Ehrman 2-3 years ago through a bulletin announcement from my former church that requested donations for the Ehrman Project, whose goal was to counter Ehrman’s arguments. At the time, I was delighted over the prospect of this project and oblivious over the controversy, mistaking Ehrman for a biased atheist and dismissing his scholarship (that is, I assumed it to be in err without reading it). As much as I have tried to remain naive, Ehrman was recently thrust to my attention yet again when my husband was notified that the project was up and running. The Ehrman Project is advertised as

...a website dedicated to engaging the ideas that Dr. Bart Ehrman is famously expounding in the complex and nuanced realm of Biblical scholarship...Like Dr. Ehrman claims for his course, our site is not attempting to force anyone to agree with any certain views. The Ehrman Project simply presents perspectives, and allows the user to make their own decisions. Dr. Ehrman is an intelligent scholar, an enjoyable lecturer, and an engaging writer. Yet neither he nor a website can make choices for an individual. Most would agree that it is best for someone to be exposed to all viewpoints before making their decision. We hope to provide valid views previously unknown or misunderstood by many.

After a short glance, I worried that while thoughtful and well-meaning, the website might be counterproductive to my spiritual journey since it was written from a conservative, inerrant point of view, a fear confirmed after emailing a narrative Bible scholar. Shortly after learning about the Ehrman Project, I noticed an uptick of discussion about Ehrman in the blogosphere, as described in a podcast by Ad Hoc Christianity.

Most recently, I read a critique of the Ehrman Project composed by progressive Christian Biblical scholar Dr. Robert Cargill (thanks to Dr. McGrath for linking this post). Dr. Cargill defends the scholarship of Ehrman while reinforcing that Ehrman's views on the Bible need not dismantle one's faith. Cargill explains:

Fundamentalists certainly have their problems with Ehrman. But to be fair, scholars have some issues of their own with Ehrman. The criticisms of Bart Ehrman from the scholarly community are essentially twofold: 1) must a scholar renounce his/her faith just because the Bible is not inerrant or infallible? and 2) Ehrman is only repeating the critical scholarship of other scholars in a popular format.....While I agree with the first criticism of Ehrman (one need not necessarily renounce one’s faith in order to be a critical scholar of the Bible, especially if one does not accept fundamentalist notions of inerrancy, soteriology, and/or systematic theology) – I actually applaud what Ehrman has done with regard to bringing critical biblical scholarship to a public audience.....Therefore, I stand with Bart Ehrman as a biblical scholar who feels we should pursue the truth no matter where it may lead. It can only make scholarship (and the faith for that matter) stronger. For if one’s Christian faith can’t stand up to a few simple questions, then it is not a faith worth following. And if apologists must duck questions, offer red herrings, and flat out lie to others in order to convince them of the brand of Christianity they are selling, then the product is not worth buying.

Last but not least, I’d like to point you towards a recent presentation by Bart Ehrman and the Greek Orthodox priest James Berends. Both were once fundamentalist Christians trained at Wheaton College. While Ehrman became an agnostic, Berends found a home as an apophatic priest in the Eastern Orthodox faith, where "you have to be content with not knowing all the answers." In a similar fashion, Ehrman chose agnosticism over atheism because "there should be some humility in the face of the universe." Ehrman does not discourage his students away from Christianity, and is in fact married to a Christian. Rather, he encourages Christians to be "knowledgeable Christians" as opposed to "thoughtless Christians". I've posted the video here at the bottom of this post. The lectures do not contain much novel information, so if you are pressed for time, consulting the abstract of the lectures might be sufficient.

A part of me was always afraid of listening to Ehrman, worried he would give me that final push away from Christianity. Ehrman is certainly an accomplished speaker whose journey struck a chord with me for its parallels to my journey. However, I still remain committed to my search. Though Berends' story was hard for me to follow, it whet my appetite to educate myself about the Orthodox faith that could offer a way for a post-evangelical like myself to embrace the mystery of Christianity and be content with uncertainty. Unfortunately, the video does not include the question and answer session that followed the talks. I wanted to share Ehrman's response to one of the questions, in which he describes his heart-wrenching journey to abandon Christianity in favor of agnosticism. Here are my notes (I couldn't type fast enough to capture the complete answer):

The hardest part was the emotional part of it...not emotionally pleasant. The Christian faith involved your whole life....if you are accustomed to praying...from being a young kid, I always said grace before dinner. When I became agnostic, there was a hole there that I did not fill. Part of the problem was that I couldn't take credit for the good things that I have and didn't have anyone to thank, and that seemed really weird…an emotional hole. The church provides all sorts of things that are hard to get outside of the church…fellowship, prayer, singing, digging deep into the issues of life...agnostics and atheists need to do a better job filling the hole.

I’m sure many of us have felt that hole, whether from a deconversion, becoming a post-evangelical Christian, or even just feeling an absense of God -- a dark night of the soul. I think Christianity, too, could do a better job of filling that hole, reaching out and embracing agnostics and atheists in kindness and love, instead of criticizing them for being stubborn, hardheaded, sinful, or refusing to just believe or embrace Jesus.

The video follows below:

Watch live streaming video from jamesandbart at livestream.com

Note: The introductions begin at 34 minutes, and the actual lecture (started by Ehrman) at 44 minutes.

Continued Conversation

2011-02-17T18:11:00.005-05:00

My last post was unique in that it was created in the spur of the moment, without my usual editing and deliberation. In it, you read some raw and emotional thoughts describing the complexities of our church hunt. As has seemed to be the case for my other (rare) posts created in this manner, it generated quite a bit of discussion. Yet, with the number of comments reaching in excess of 40, I thought it might be best to create a new post to continue the conversation on the subject of fundamentalism, inerrancy, Scripture and Jesus, if anyone is interested. This way, comments on the previous post can remain on the topic of church and denominations.

Edited to add: This post also hosts continued conversation from the Bart Ehrman post.

Churchless

2011-02-14T16:58:00.008-05:00

After an almost 18 month church hunt (off and on), we are still churchless. And I'm not sure if I can muster the energy to continue the search.

Can I be an agnostic Christian without a church...practicing Christianity as per Pascal's Wager, hoping for change?

Can I find a church with remnants of spiritual abuse that sets in an internal emotional response each time I set foot in church?

Can a traditional Southern Baptist girl find a place to fit in with heretical doubts?

As a Southern Baptist, I was trained to question the faith of all other denominations, especially Catholics. When I transferred my membership to an evangelical PCA church, I comforted my parents that it was a conservative branch of the Presbyterian denomination, unlike the more liberal PC-USA churches. Now, I’m not even sure if I fit into mainline denominations like PC-USA or United Methodist, nor in the Emerging Church.

My intellectual thoughts might find a home in a progressive church, but I’m not sure if my whole self would fit in. I found a list of progressive churches (including United Church of Christ, Episcopal and American Baptist) in this area, most of which would be regarded liberal, heretical, or non-Christian by many conservative evangelicals.

I know I'm analytical and indecisive, but the multitude of choices here are just overwhelming.

I want to go to church. I really do.

If Christianity is the endpoint, and life is a journey, why do I feel like I need to have all the answers solved before I enter church? Or has my search been destined for failure from the beginning?

With a childhood spent learning that Southern Baptists are the only Christians, can I embrace another version of Christianity (particularly one that does not consider itself evangelical) without a subconscious emotional backlash? Has removing inerrancy completely destroyed any hope of attaining a Christian worldview?

Choices, Paint, Gongs and Cymbals

2011-02-10T21:08:00.003-05:00

photo © 2010 John Morgan | more info (via: Wylio)

Choices often paralyze me. I over-analyze them, rarely making an impulsive decision. While I was picking out colors to paint our house, those little $5 sample paint tubs were my best friend, and my walls were like a child's art project. I am familiar with return policies of the stores I frequent. I have an especially hard time making decisions while under stress, so if my kids are misbehaving in the background, I spend even more time deliberating over a purchase. I've often reflected how my religious doubt parallels my overall doubt, and therefore, I thought this post by Richard Beck at the blog Experimental Theology was pertinent:

"But what if we are just stuck with our purchase or decision? What if the sale is final? Well, recognizing that nothing can be done about it we tend to get on with enjoying our life. And humans are remarkable at this. When the chips finally fall we tend to make the best of it. Gilbert calls this our psychological immune system, the protective psychological mechanisms that help reconcile us to our life circumstance. But here's the deal: The psychological immune system only kicks in when the situation forecloses, when the dust settles. Only then will we start rolling up our sleeves and look for silver linings. But if the situation is sill changeable the immune system doesn't kick in. Rather, we get stuck in those ruminative loops deciding what to do. All the while the psychological mechanisms that help make you happier sit idle on the sidelines, waiting for you to make up your mind.”

Going back to my original example about wall paint, five years after our painting projects, I've learned which colors I love and which I would change. Experience has given me the wisdom to make informed choices in the future. My most recent paint purchase was as straightforward as selecting from a paint brand with a limited palette that hasn’t lead me astray yet. Perhaps a way to self-regulate my options, thereby reducing stress - a so-called "choice paradox":

“We generally think having more choices is a good thing. That choice will make us happier. But the research suggests that choice can actually be a curse. The more choices we have the more overwhelmed we feel, the more we will worry about making the right choice, and the less satisfied we will be with our final choice.”

How does all this relate to Christianity? Well, I've been exposed to a complex array of options for spirituality. I was born a Catholic, raised a Southern Baptist, attended graduate school with mostly agnostic/atheist professors, baptized my kids as Presbyterians, and attended a Biologos conference in which I met Christians that reject inerrancy. Browse some of the blogs in the skeptics or biblical study sections of my blogroll, and you'll read diverse opinions, even within Christianity. Honest, humble individuals searching for truth, armed with the same controversial Bible information I've learned, arriving at very different conclusions about faith. With my inherently analytical personality, I just cannot arrive at a decision amongst this clatter of voices. The various viewpoints within the spectrum of a/theism have become gongs and cymbals to me:

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal." 1 Cor 13:1 (NIV)

Yet again, I’m stuck with the agnostic Christianity label. Agnostic meaning I am still in decision-making mode, Christianity for practical purposes. After reading Beck’s post, I wonder if by my failure to decide keeps me trapped “in those ruminative loops deciding what to do", preventing "the protective psychological mechanisms that help reconcile us to our life circumstance". Alternatively, by accepting the status quo of uncertainty, perhaps I am making a choice, so to speak. Honestly, I think I have a little of both right now; somedays I feel those “protective mechanisms” kick in, and on other days (like today), I’m stuck in those “ruminative loops”.

Happy 1st Birthday

2011-02-07T08:00:00.003-05:00

This blog has been in existence for over a year now, since those first three entries posted on February 3, 2010. While the evolution of my thoughts continues to surprise me, I often revisit the themes that shaped the inspiration for this blog, and let them continue to anchor and guide me.

Those three initial posts....
Julia and Julia
Like a Child
A Plethora of Viewpoints

Thanks to all for your support and advice as I continue to embark on this blogging journey.

Doubt and Anonymity - 19th Century and Today

2011-02-06T22:46:00.004-05:00

openlibrary.org

In my last post, I discussed the story of 19th century scientist George John Romanes (posted on Mark Lefers' blog), whose spiritual journey took him from Christianity to agnosticism, and eventually back to some semblance of Christianity. During his deconversion, Romanes used the pseudonym "Physicus" to publish the manuscript, A Candid Examination of Theism in 1878. As told by biographer Timothy McGrew, Romanes' authorship "was guarded fairly closely; [Romanes] shared it with Darwin and a few personal acquaintances, but he kept it hidden from the rest of the world. He was not a happy deconvert, and he made no attempt to palliate the conclusion to which he had come. Indeed, the work ends on a note that comes very close to despair." Romanes writes at the end of his book:

"I am not ashamed to confess that with this virtual negation of God the universe to me has lost its soul of loveliness; … yet when at times I think, as think at times I must, of the appalling contrast between the hallowed glory of that creed which once was mine, and the lonely mystery of existence as now I find it,- at such times I shall ever feel it impossible to avoid the sharpest pang of which my nature is susceptible."

As you know, I’ve had my own encounter with this “lonely mystery of existence” described by Romanes. However, what I found most remarkable was that Romanes felt the need to use a penname. While the biography did not offer an explanation for Romanes’ obscurity, I could certainly venture some guesses. Perhaps he too, felt shame or guilt for expressing such heretical thoughts – questions that similarly drove many of us doubters and skeptics with blogs to anonymity, creating clever pennames such as DoOrDoNot, AtimetoRend and Faith[less], that in one word, capture the ebb and flow our journeys. Though the blogging pseudonames may reflect security concerns over the widespread nature of the blogosphere, I know there are more variables at play, as described by bloggers who used their real names, Mark and Ted.

Is it not a travesty that so many of us feel so embarrassed, shunned and rejected by the church that often views doubt as sin, banishes the questions, while villainizing agnostics and atheists in an attempt to counter their arguments? How can doubters make sense of the conflicting opinions over Christianity, with inerrant, conservative, progressive, liberal, agnostic and atheist Bible scholars all vying for their stake in the maddening puzzle of Christ. As much as I’ve tried, I can't make sense of this chaos, where well-meaning scholars diverge so decidedly, and bloggers maintain unresolved doubt even after candid and prolonged searches. I worry that the complexity alone will turn inquisitive Christians into atheists, without even asking the questions.

I'm frustrated beyond words at my continued ambivalence over the central theme of Christianity - the resurrection - belief in which is central to reciting the creeds and admittance into fellowship (or yoking) with other believers. Meanwhile, I am burdened with the idea of being a stumbling block, apprehensive that during my period of brutal honesty over my uncertainty, I might push another towards unbelief of the very doctrine I strive to embrace. As Christianity brings comfort to so many people, the last thing I would want to do is destroy that hope, because though I’ve stopped fretting over it, I still find little comfort in the cold dark idea of life without God. There must be something more profound to this mystery life that remains veiled to me; “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror...”1 Cor 13:12 (NIV).

If not for the encouragement of my husband, this blog would have surely have been shut down by now. My husband has somehow managed to sustain his faith in spite my drama, research and questioning, coupled with a church experience that left him just as hurt as myself. As he has often remarked, Christianity should be able to handle my questions. Thus, in spite of my uncertainty, I am convinced that the stifling of doubt in churches across America is a foolish antidote that is only exacerbating the problem. If you think I am exaggerating, refer to these poignant stories of two former Christians that were treated like lepers for their doubts (guest posts at blogs by Jason Boyett and Religion at the Margins).

Over a century after the publication of Romanes’ anonymous book, doubt still remains a forbidden subject. Surely there must be a better way to embrace and address these doubts?!?

***Bloggers - I would love to hear your story of why you opted for anonymity.

Christian Faith Testimonies - A Request

2011-01-30T01:56:00.008-05:00

"How is it that you have retained your Christian belief?" - GJ Romanes 1890

At the blog Christian Doubt, Mark Lefers posted a wonderful biography of the evolutionary biologist George John Romanes (1848-1894) who transitioned from Christianity to agnosticism when he embraced Darwin's evolutionary theory. Romanes' biography, written by Dr. Timothy McGrew, can be found here. After a period of agnosticism, the story has an interesting twist, as exemplified by this letter that Romanes wrote his esteemed friend John Gulick, a Christian missionary, thinker, and researcher:

For a long time past I have been meditating upon the possibility of putting to you a question which I have feared you might deem unpardonably impertinent, and this in both senses of the word. But on this Christmas day I cannot avoid the ‘cumulative’ temptation. My only excuse is the twofold statement that the question is not put from any merely idle curiosity, and that it is put on account of the very great value which I attach to the extraordinary analytical powers of your thought.

The question which—for my own benefit alone—I want to ask is, How is it that you have retained your Christian belief? Looking to your life, I know that you must have done so conscientiously; and, looking to your logic, I equally know that you cannot have done so without due consideration. On what lines of evidence, therefore, do you mainly rely? Years ago my own belief was shattered—and all the worth of life destroyed—by what has ever since appeared to me overpowering assaults from the side of rationality; and yours is the only mind I have met with, which, while greatly superior to mine in the latter respect, appears to have reached an opposite conclusion. Therefore I should like to know in a general way how you view the matter as a whole; but if you think the question is one that I ought not to have asked, I hope you will neither trouble to answer it, nor refuse to accept in advance my apology for putting it (written Christmas day, 1890).

Near the end of his life, Romanes regained some elements of Christian faith. The question posed by Romanes is at the heart of the a/theism debate, and one I've wanted to ask but have only hinted at. In keeping with the theme of my last post where I discussed the limits of apologetics, I will frame the same question Romanes asked Gulick - a personal testimony of how you hold faith, particularly if you espouse a non-inerrant Biblical perspective. Personal testimonies can be powerful, and of all the books I have read on the subject of Christianity, those that left a lasting impression included personal accounts, such as Francis Collins' Language of God, Darryl Falk's Coming to Peace with Science and Mark Roberts' Can we Trust the Gospels. Since I have already linked stories of agnostic christianity and deconversion, I feel it is time to post stories of conversion (and reconversion). Surprisingly, these were rather difficult to find, and none that follow (thus far) were labeled as testimonies, so feel free to send a different link. In the future, I will compile all the wonderful book recommendations for the benefit of my readers, while I take my own apologetics "sabbatical";)

The Question: Why Christianity? (List will be updated as needed)

"But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect" 1 Peter 3:15 (NIV)

Cliff Martin at Outside the Box: Part I,Part II, and Part III
Steve Douglas at Undeception
Richard Beck at Experimental Theology
Robert Cargill

Edited to add:
Sherry at Walking in the Shadows
Testimony from a blog reader

There are other bloggers I would like to link, particularly if you are on my theology or science blogroll on the right.

Before closing, I wanted to share a Nickel Creek song entitled "Doubting Thomas" that has encouraged me over the last few weeks, and meshes well with the story of Romanes' life. It was sung at an emerging church that I recently visited (and liked):

Can We Trust the Gospels? (Part 2 & Reflections)

2011-01-29T14:27:00.003-05:00

I intended my review of Mark Roberts' book to span two posts. Part 2 ended up being a commentary on apologetics in general. Refer to Part 1 for discussion of the book.

One of the highlights of reading Mark D. Roberts’ Can We Trust the Gospels? was found not an argument from the author, but in a quote of 2nd century scholar/theologian Irenaeus from his treatise Against Heresies. In contrast to many Christians today, Irenaeus fully embraced the differences among the Gospels, yet still identified himself as a Christian (112-3). As I learned that these discussions of Gospel authenticity were occurring soon after the death of Christ, I realized that my doubts were neither unique nor remarkable, but have been shared by Christians for centuries. In fact, during the initial stages of Christianity, Paul confirms the challenges of the resurrection: “Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles” 1 Cor 1:23 (ESV).

Christianity's persistence among these intellectual hurdles plaguing minds for over 2000 years is one of the primary reasons I remain cautiously open-minded about Christianity. Can I embrace the mystery of Christianity amidst my own skepticism? I’m not sure, but since these questions were not to be resolved overnight, after I read Roberts’ book in November, I decided to embrace agnostic Christianity. This label reflects my need to make a pragmatic decision, however unsure, while I walk through this post-evangelical mess. I am living out a re-interpreted Pascal’s wager (discussed here in my more evangelical persona). I know that my bias towards Christianity might seem superficial and trite. I hope I’m not letting you down by settling, and if so, I am deeply sorry, particularly if I have increased your doubts by my own questions. Yet, I trust that sharing my struggles might validate your own – a step towards healing.

As I jump from one label (fundamentalism) to another (agnostic Christianity), I am sensitive to the fact that this process may involve further transition. I have bittersweet feelings over my quest for faith. By shedding misguided assumptions, I’ve lost the assurance provided by certainty, a realization that is simultaneously both liberating and frightening. Furthermore, as doubt becomes my constant companion, I’ve grown increasingly cynical over the ability of apologetics to bring me to faith. I am evidence of the limits of apologetics expressed by others (such as JD Kirk, Josh Morgan and NT Wright). As such, though I may continue to read, I will scale down the intensity (and my expectations), for after all, I’d much rather be reading Jane Austen in my limited free time. Theology for me was neither an interest, hobby nor passion, but a symptom of Christianity’s clash with my science training. Since I'm not aspiring to be a theologian, why devote so much focus to apologetics, when theologians themselves have found it to be lacking?

As I look to the future, I consider the theological position of special revelation, which should be all I need to have faith in Christianity, because after all, Christianity loses its appeal if it requires such an extraordinary venture into researching different theological paradigms. Hence, I’m feeling content to focus on another genre for a while. The music of living life as a stay-at-home mom with seemingly insurmountable doubts, but a willingness to remain within the framework of Christianity, provided I find a niche where I can be welcomed without having to defend the rationality of my doubts or become an apologist for agnosticism (for after all, it isn’t part of my personality to argue). I appreciate my diverse online friends – you have been my lifesaver over the past year. However, being glued to the computer can be rather lonely, and I hope that one day I might merge these dual identities by expressing the thoughts known here in my bricks and mortar life.

Lastly, since I’ve been burdened with guilt over how selfish it can be to spend so many hours pouring over theology texts or blogs, I’d like to reiterate my ever-growing conviction to follow Jesus’ command to "love your neighbor as yourself"(Mark 12:31), even while doubting the divine qualities of Jesus. If I take Pascal’s wager to heart, what harm can be done in loving each other?

***Fellow doubting friends DoOrDoNot and Rachel Held Evans have expressed similar sentiments about loving one's neighbor.

Definition of Agnostic Christianity

2011-01-25T22:48:00.008-05:00

Ag/nos/tic Chris/ti/an/i/ty
By Like a Childphoto © 2008 Horia Varlan | more info (via: Wylio)

Note: A label that shouldn’t be a label because it represents a dynamic state of mind that could abandon the label at any given moment. As such, I reserve the right to edit this post in the future. Agnostic Christianity leaves you vulnerable to critique from everyone, and it can mean different things for different people. Hence, I will define what it means for myself...

Agnostic: Constantly examining an array of options but paralyzed by indecision; Simultaneously considering and reconsidering atheist and Christian points of view; Believing and disbelieving in God; Believing in disbelieving in Doubt; Uncertain; Confused; Insecure; Clueless.

Christianity: A hope that Christianity will seem real to me, that instead of doubting my unbelief, I may doubt my belief; A conflict of interest stemming from a bias to stay with what feels comfortable. Accepting Pascal’s Wager.

Warning: For some, psychological trauma (faith crisis, dark night of the soul, spiritual abuse, negative church experiences, etc) can precede and/or coincide with the acceptance of this label.

Alternatives: Honest Christianity was suggested as an alternative by Cliff in the comments to this post and I know many of you have agreed. I concur, as it removes some of the stigma and negativity associated with agnosticism. But for now, I’ll refer to it as agnostic Christianity since the term seems to be gaining momentum in the blogging community.

Agnostic Christianity as per:
Existential Punk
James McGrath
DoOrDoNot
Wheat Among Tares
Irritable Reaching

Edited to add: Please feel free to post a link to your story of agnostic christianity (or christian agnosticism) and I'll add it to my list!

Coincidence or Providence?

2011-01-21T12:59:00.009-05:00

I normally restrain/pace myself by aiming for one (not too long) blog post a week, for many reasons that could apply to those on a diet or training for a race. I don't always achieve that goal (particularly with length), but I try. Today's post is an exception -but I needed to write it.

DoOrDoNot of the blog Think and Wonder, Wonder and Think and I are truly kindred spirits. Our journeys have amazing parallels, coming out of fundamentalist backgrounds but faced now with chronic doubt. Last week, I was excited to discover yet another doubt partnership - between Gullible's Travels and Faith[less]: Trying to Find my Way Back. Both must be kindred spirits considering they created a blog on the same day!

There are other coincidences too. I've discussed this before - how I got to meet Rachel Held Evans, unaware she had written a book on doubt. Furthermore, I've lost count of the eerie resemblances my journey has had to the movie that was the inspiration for this blog. And recently, after that summary post of 2010 when I started to feel rather discouraged about our church hunt (and considering a move to be closer to family), we've received two recommendations for a mainline Presbytarian church that I had ruled out because I had been worn out by predestination theology and it was 45 minutes away.

I cannot write this post without thanking Cliff Martin at Outside the Box for being one of my first readers, commenting on this post that he was actually reading my initial posts, which I was shocked and excited to hear, since I was so insecure about sharing my story. Thank you Cliff!

I've learned to be skeptical about these kind of coincidences, a defense mechanism so I don't set myself up for dissappointment when the coincidences don't end up being providential. The events I've described make me wonder if they've been orchestrated by God, although I am all too aware of how subjective they are and don't really validate the truth of Christianity over other religions (or pantheism/deism). But still, they give me some pause to consider whether Christianity is real, and motivate me to keep trekking forward.

Question Mark ?

2011-01-21T01:44:00.008-05:00

I have several posts collecting dust while I scrutinize them. My delay in posting leads to rewriting portions to keep them up-to-date with my erratic journey. As such, you can imagine my difficulties in posting something that captures the dynamic flux of my thoughts and feelings. It is with this disclaimer that I post this, most of which written at the lowest point of my journey in the fall of 2010. I couldn't decided on a title and put the ? as a placeholder. But it kind of fits, so I let it stay. The photo captures the quintessence of childhood - Disney.

I miss the old me, that naive skin of myself that accepted everything the church taught as truth. The part of me that thought Mark, Matthew, Luke and John actually wrote the Gospels, unaware of the inconsistencies in the birth story of Jesus. Like an adult reminiscing about their childhood toys, I miss the simplicity of believing the neat little story told by the Nativity characters. Why did it have to take 33 years to figure this out -- reading complicated books meant for theologians, in seclusion?

I miss the ability to talk the Christian lingo with integrity, referring to how I had felt God called me to do this or that. I miss prayer, for it now feels like meditation - talking to myself. When I attempt to formulate a prayer for faith, my thoughts turn towards the vast amount of suffering in the world, and I am ashamed to make such a seemingly selfish request when others are dying.

What I thought was the Holy Spirit now feels like a voice in my head. I miss teaching my kids Bible verses, and using Scripture to substantiate why they should behave. I reminisce about daily devotionals and singing in church with joy. When my little girl sings a song with the church choir, at the back of my mind, I am pondering the possible harms of indoctrination. A strong part of me wants to abandon mythical-poetic interpretations of the Bible and return to the security of inerrancy, whose black and white nature hides the underlying uncertainty about Christianity. Surely, "where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise" (Thomas Gray).

The irony of my journey is that I have not read a single book by an atheist. Instead, apologetics by Christian authors has spurned intimidating waves of skepticism and unbelief. Had I not been under the illusion that strong faith must be doubt-free, perhaps I would be at a better place today, for in hindsight, I had a genuine (albeit naive) belief until I delved into apologetics to gain doubt-free intellectual faith. (Rachel Held Evans has a great post discussing her attempt to love God with your mind).

As I reflect doubt as of late, I am intrigued, perplexed, and slightly envious of the faith held by progressive Christian theologians that reject inerrancy, favor evolution, and hail the uncertainties of Scripture, all while still claiming to be Christians. They are often the first to point out the limits of intellectual apologetics. Instead of convincing the mind, they advocate modeling Christ’s love as a way of showing evidence of Christianity. Point well taken - I’ve also written about the importance of displaying love and grace. Yet, from what I’ve experienced through the years, Christians, as a whole, do not always show evidence of the changing power of Christ. Rather, they can push seekers away with their theological, legalistic, and denominational rubric.

While I respect the theologians' willingness to address the conflicts of faith with science, I’m struggling to embrace the narrative story of Christianity (but I’m still trying). The obstacle for me is the cognitive dissonance produced Christianity’s lack of either a compelling intellectual apologetic and a convincing emotional draw (i.e. community). In the absence of either forms of evidence, Christians often rely on childhood bias and/or personal encounter of Christ, but mine feels subjective - forced by weekly alter calls of my youth. Though I believed in God, I’m not sure if I actually felt Him, and now, that I’m questioning the former, I cannot rely on the latter.

As I learn about other bloggers' doubt struggles, I have noticed the link between robust Christian faith and a fortunate combination of nature and nurture. Some seem hardwired to believe in God. Others have a personality bent towards skepticism. Rejection of Christianity is not always an act of free will, lack of morality or evil. Rather, some variables towards coming to faith in Christ seem beyond our control; for me, they include fundamentalism, university studies in science and higher Biblical criticism, and restrictive church communities.

Though my writings and thoughts may be unconventional, I actually have a bias towards Christianity. My internal “conflict of interest” stems from the fact that Christianity is the norm for my family and I. As I leave the door open for further divine revelation, I’m aware that greater faith will inevitably lead me back towards more doubt, reflecting over the question of evil (theodicy) and why God didn’t help my deconverted/ing friends.

Polkinghorne's view of hell has been helpful, for as heretical as it seems, I cannot conceive of a Christianity that sends my agnostic/atheist friends to hell. As this blog draws comments from a diverse range of viewpoints (which I appreciate), sometimes I feel like I am in a tug-of-war, wanting to please everyone as I resonate how each came to such different perspectives.

Oh how I miss the childlike faith of my youth. I don't like these shades of gray. Though I’ve recently referred to myself as an agnostic Christian (which I will expand upon in later posts), I’m not entirely at peace with the label, wondering if I should settle for agnosticism. Yet, at other moments, I hope that in spite of my unbelief, my continued struggle to embrace Christianity has a purpose.

I'll end with an excerpt from the poem Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College by Thomas Gray

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! 
Ah, fields belov'd in vain!
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow 
A momentary bliss bestow,
As waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

ps. I cannot take credit for finding this poem, considering that I’ve never been fond of poetry. I stumbled upon it looking for the origin of the phrase “ignorance is bliss” since I sort of suspected it was a quote and wanted to give credit to its author.

Who Made the Moon...A Surprise Find

2011-01-05T11:13:00.001-05:00

A review of the book Who Made the Moon by Sigmund Brouwer
(guest post by my husband)

A few months ago, my wife happened upon the book Who Made the Moon: A Father Explores how Faith and Science Agree, while searching online for resources about the debate between science and faith. She ordered it, and I decided to read it first since she was engrossed in another book at the time it arrived. This book seems to have inexplicably flown under the radar when it comes to the faith-science arena. While it is more an argument for deism and a creator in general (and thus doesn’t try to answer the question of “why Christianity”), it still is a useful book, particularly for those who may just be breaking out of the throes of fundamentalism and realizing that things like ascribing to evolutionary theory are not heresy.

A perusal of Wikipedia (the source of all things right and true) reveals that the book’s author, Sigmund Brouwer, is known mostly for novels with a Christian theme, as well as a slew of children’s books. Thus, this volume is quite far afield from his usual works. Furthermore, he is neither theologian nor scientist, which makes the fact that he delved into this topic quite intriguing to me. He writes clearly and insightfully about how science need not be a barrier to faith, and has obviously taken time to research the science behind the origins of the cosmos and evolutionary theory. Note the rather exquisite detail for a layperson (for that is what I would consider him in this context), in this snippet from his appendix that lays out the chronology of the big bang and the birth of the universe:

“Three thousand years after the big bang—the universe cooled to about four thousand degrees. Electrons finally were able to settle into orbit around the nuclei, and the elements are formed. Gravity began to clump matter as part of an extremely long process of building stars until enough hydrogen was massed for the gravitational forces to ignite nuclear fusion and begin burning the stars. Then the galaxies of these stars formed.”

Apart from his clarity with regard to creation science, the real crux of the book is in his central point that science should not be at odds with faith, and vice versa, and furthermore that Christians should not erect science as a fence to the cross. This sentiment, and his motivation to express it in this book, was prompted by the simple question “Who made the moon?” asked of him by his young daughter one evening. As a result of this, he reflects on and realizes in a very tangible way the fact that he cannot make his daughters have faith. However, he resolves to do everything in his power to ensure there are no needless or contrived barriers to their faith. He recounts a discussion he had with a close friend, as a means of exemplifying this central point (this is Brouwer talking with his friend Jeff Denham):

“So one of your employees is down on life and feels there is no hope, and you want to tell this person that the Cross is the answer, but before he gets there, he has to believe the earth is only seven thousand years old, because that’s what Genesis says. Do you think that’s going to make it easy for the discussion to continue a faith search?”

Brouwer also tackles the issue of “inerrancy”, essentially stating his view that the Bible is composed of both literal and figurative prose, with different genres throughout. He is also honest about the issue of context, both historical and situational, as it pertains to Biblical interpretation (and furthermore how it is exponentially complicated by translation from original Hebrew and Greek). He also goes about trying to debunk the slippery slope argument (that is if Genesis is figurative, then the rest of the Bible must be also). Consider his point:

“First, the slippery-slope argument is disrespectful. Life is a progression of valleys and hills. As we mature in our reasoning abilities, we learn how to hold our position on slopes. Second, it is flawed, because the first premise does not necessarily lead to the next. If you insist that describing some parts of the Bible as figurative means that the entire Bible will be painted with the same brush, then you’d better be prepared to also insist that Jesus had a sword for a tongue.”

Now I get that the arguments and problems presented in this book might strike much of this blog’s readership as quite basic, and only beginning to scratch the surface of the complexity of many people’s faith struggles. It doesn’t tackle the deity of Jesus, miracles, the historicity of the Gospels, the problem of pain, etc. However, as I said before, for some at certain points in their “faith-doubt” walk, it may be a useful and refreshing read.

The concern Brouwer shows for his children and how their faith will evolve, or potentially could suffer, is the real gem in this work. Interspersed throughout the book are a series of heartfelt letters he has composed to his children, encouraging them to be open and ask questions when they have them. This displays a humility that is needed in Christianity as a whole and it gets at what seems to be an issue for many--what do I teach and how do I interact with my children? I'll close with a quote from one of these letters. If only every parent, and person for that matter, had the heartening attitude of Brouwer:

"...I'll be happy to help you explore your questions. I won't try to make you believe everything exactly the way I believe, but I can help you try to make sense of whatever is confusing you. I love you. Always! No matter what you ask me about God or life!"

For more information, check out the website for Who Made the Moon:
http://www.whomadethemoon.com/

Ups and Downs of 2010

2011-01-03T12:09:00.013-05:00

...and a reflection of the Biologos conference I attended in June.

The year 2010 will be forever known as the year I deconstructed my faith. Though always a doubter, the journey officially began back in February, when I created this blog after being inspired by the movie Julie and Julia to explore the questions about Christianity that had perplexed me since adolescence. I had grown restless over the cognitive dissonance I battled each time I taught my children about the Bible, feeling guilty for hiding my doubts – and I had never been good at lying anyways. Excited over the thought of sparking a fire to my faith, I embarked on my quest, armed with passion and courage. I need not fear knowledge, as long as I maintained a humble, child-like perspective. Or so I thought.

The day after Christmas we wont forget!

My initial posts reflect my frustration over Calvinism as well as confusion over how evolution could fit into the Old Testament. I had been hurt, deeply, by the legalism within two denominations of fundamentalist Christianity. Most of my life was spent entrenched in Southern Baptist churches, enduring sermons that stigmatized evolution and alter calls that chastised me for my uncertainty. Four years ago, we switched to a Presbyterian-PCA church, and after a brief honeymoon period, my doubts were escalating as I felt alone in my objections to John Calvin’s theory of limited atonement and Tedd Tripp’s Shepherding a Child’s Heart parenting movement.

While dealing with the typical struggles of leaving a church, I started to read C.S. Lewis’ Miracles, for the resurrection was the topic that most bewildered me about Christianity. But as my faith diminished while reading my beloved Lewis, coupled with some difficult church experiences, I grew cynical and bitter, ready to relinquish Christianity. Unwilling to give up without a fight, I was desperate to put an end to my struggles with faith, doubt and science. So I did something rather crazy, booking a total of four plane tickets to travel from my home in the Tar Heel State to drop my kids off with my parents in Florida, so that my husband and I could attend the Biologos conference being held in June at the campus of Gordon College in Wenham, Massachusetts. Why Biologos? The founder of Biologos was Francis Collins, a world-renowned scientist who I had the privilege of meeting during a conference in Ireland in 2002. After two years in a PhD program feeling like the only Christian in the sciences, Dr. Collins impressed me with his humility and kindness, and it is to his credit that I was able to sustain my attachment to Christianity over the remainder of my graduate training.

On the flight to Boston, I mulled over how time-consuming and expensive this venture was. Not one to normally stress about air travel, on this particular flight, I was sent into a panic at the slightest episode of turbulence, despairing over the thought of never seeing my kids again, yet unable to muster a single prayer to a God I believed to be a myth. As we settled into a tiny, musty and cold dorm room on the campus of this idyllic little Christian college, I started flipping through the conference booklet, disheartened to learn that most of the attendees were faculty at Christian colleges and universities. As all of the lectures focused on the obstacles faced by evolutionary scientists at Christian campuses, I wondered how I, a stay-at-home mom, and my husband, a clinical-track physician at a secular university, would fit in.

Eating and throwing snowballs

Missing my kids terribly, I was ready to board the next plane out of Boston, whatever the cost, when I ran into Kathryn Applegate, a scientist/web programmer for Biologos. We shared an immediate connection. Thanks to Kathryn, I gave the conference a second chance. Though the conference lectures were interesting, they did not engage my doubts, for the speakers seemed to assume there were no doubters in the audience. After particularly intense doubts were stirred by Pete Enns’ lecture on the mythical-poetic view of the Old Testament, I grew restless in my attempt to incorporate Enns’ incarnation model into Christianity without abandoning Christianity entirely. This narrative story dismantled everything I had been taught as a child. As the time for questions came, in a rare moment of boldness, I stood up and admitted my faith crisis. If you know me personally, you know that speaking in public, especially a roomful of strangers, is completely out of character for my usually shy and introverted self. But I had spent too much time and money getting to this conference to just hide beneath a shell.

As I stumbled through my question, my anxieties over speaking in public set in (a little late this time!), and I don’t actually recall what Enns said or it helping me, for I spent most of the time wishing I could somehow disappear. What was helpful, however, was the community of attendees that came to talk to me afterwards, sharing their former or ongoing battles with doubt. I learned about the term “dark night of the soul” and accumulated a list of books to read. I gained a newfound compassion for the unique issues faced by professors at Christian colleges and the terrible oppression they faced from administrators and grantees as they tried to teach evolution in their classrooms. Many admitted similar difficulties finding a church to call home. For the first time, I realized I was not alone in my doubts. Meeting Rachel Held Evans was icing on the cake - never could I have imagined that I would meet someone who not only understood my psyche, but wrote a book about it. As the conference progressed, I accumulated a stack of business cards from friends I will treasure for their willingness to connect with me. I came home with renewed energy, new Facebook friends, two free books, and a long list of authors to check out.

Six months and three books later (Enns, Polkinghorne and Roberts), my doubts have persisted. I became better acquainted with the term dark night of the soul. I have deconstructed my faith and my assumptions to the nth degree. My journey has been characterized by panic attacks, crying fits, and thoughts of destroying any book that reminded me of Christianity. We struggled through our marriage as I questioned everything and anything, wondering why we were 600 miles from our families solely because it at one point seemed part of “God’s plan”. I have visited almost every church in a 30+ minute radius from our house, leaving several in tears during my particularly agnostic moods. Though close to three major universities and a bustling research center, I felt alone in my hampered ability to recite the creeds, sing the songs, and join in communion. Church brought back old memories of the hurt from fundamentalist Christianity, and I could no longer wear that façade I once wore among Christians to fit in and have a piece of that fairy-tale Christian community. My carriage had turned back into a pumpkin, revealing the real me.

I now struggle with feelings of numbness and apathy that protect me from the emotional pitfalls I was privy to, but also stifle the passion and excitement I once had. I still look back on those cold three days in June spent at the Biologos conference as one of the shining gems amidst the rubble of 2010. Though my doubts have morphed into agnosticism, I often reminiscence about the way I felt at that Biologos conference and marvel at how it could be explained by a God-less world. I’ve wanted to recreate that feeling here at home, dreaming of being part of that same understanding community I found in Massachusetts.

So as I reflect upon 2010, I realize that breaking free from my tangled wed of childhood fundamentalism has been one of the most heart-wrenching experiences in my life. Yet, though I carry nostalgia of the bliss of my former ignorance, often wishing I could turn back the clock, as a whole, I do not regret this journey I started back in February, for better or for worse. Learning to appreciate myself, for who I am, doubts and all, will be the task for 2011.

*All links within this particular post point towards other posts on my blog, as I intended it to be sort of a recap of 2010. For relevant links outside this blog, consult:

Biologos Foundation
Rachel Held Evan's 13 Things I learned at the Biologos Conference
Pete Enns' Incarnation Model
Agnostic Christianity
Deconstructing Faith and Doubt

Christmas with Kids

2010-12-26T01:51:00.002-05:00

Though I've battled doubt for most of my life, my questions were over the certainty of Christianity. Now that I've realized that certainty is a myth, my doubts have taken on a different form - skepticism over whether I can embrace this uncertainty. Rather than worrying about my faith deficiencies, I wonder about the whole concept of faith in the first place. As such, this Christmas has been particularly difficult from an intellectual standpoint -- I'm not quite sure what to make of the Nativity scene. Thankfully, I'm not in despair, partly because I'm not harboring guilt, whether imposed by man or by God (I can thank my blogging friends for that!). I'll continue to ponder and reflect on these thoughts in the New Year, both personally and on this blog. But for now, I've focused on the joys of my children today as they open gifts (and quite certainly tomorrow as they awake to the snow that is coating the ground as I write!)

Let me share two songs that have warmed my heart this Christmas, and coordinate with the theme of my blog - children. The first, "Christmas Canon" by Trans-siberian Orchestra, has rather confusing lyrics (Santa or Jesus?) that parallel the confusion of the meaning of Christmas in my life. Each time I listen to it, I recall John Polkinghorne's quote, “that a temporal succession of vibrations in the air can speak to us of eternity is a fact that must be accommodated in any adequate account of reality" (p. 45 Faith of a Physicist). The second song by Sara Groves is a comical reflection on dealing with Christmas "Toy Packaging".

A Merry Christmas from our family to yours.

Christmas Cannon by Trans-siberian Orchestra (explanation of lyrics at http://www.trans-siberian.com/lyrics_story/xmas_attic_story.php)

Toy Packaging by Sara Groves (CD was a gift from my husband this year)

Einstein's Like a Child Metaphor

2010-12-22T11:36:00.001-05:00

photo © 1955 César Blanco | more info (via: Wylio)
Every now and then, I read such a profound quote that etches itself permanently into my mind. Today was one of those days, while browsing an article entitled Einstein's God in the blog Big Questions Online. The author, Michael Shermer, retells an interview with Albert Einstein, in which Einstein was asked if he believed in God. Einstein's response fits very nicely with the theme of my blog:

The problem involved is too vast for our limited minds. We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library filled with books in many languages. The child knows someone must have written those books. It does not know how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. The child dimly suspects a mysterious order in the arrangement of the books but doesn’t know what it is. That, it seems to me, is the attitude of even the most intelligent human being toward God. We see the universe marvelously arranged and obeying certain laws but only dimly understand these laws.

Can We Trust the Gospels? by Mark D. Roberts (Part 1)

2010-12-19T22:14:00.005-05:00

After struggling through Polkinghorne’s Faith of a Physicist, I needed a break. Pastor Mark D. Roberts’, Can We Trust the Gospels?, was just the book. Still in the midst of an emotional faith-crisis, the ease with which I read Robert’s book was much appreciated. Written for a layperson, Roberts’ prose was clear, concise and engaging – no abstract theological terms to decipher. The clarity of the text meant that I wasted little time trying to comprehend the arguments. The book’s simplicity, however, did not translate into a lack of substance, for Roberts generated a broad survey of the issues over the historicity and authenticity of the Gospels with the same honest and personable tone that had impressed me when I listened to one of his sermons online (described in a former blog post).

Roberts opens his book describing a faith crisis he experienced upon entering Harvard, provoked by a religion course. According to Roberts’ professor, the Gospels:

“...were chock-full of legendary elements, including miracle stories, exorcisms, and prophesies. These were not to be taken as part of the historical record, he said. Rather, they were best understood as fictional elements added by the early Christians to increase the attractiveness of Jesus in the Greco-Roman world. The Gospels were not so much historical or biographical documents as they were theological tractates weaving together powerful fictions with a few factual data.”(15)

Roberts relates is shock over being taught that Matthew and Luke had referred to Mark in their writing, occasionally adding contradictions into the Gospel accounts:

“Where I had once been taught that these similarities were evidence of divine inspiration, I discovered that a straightforward historical explanation provided a simpler account of the data.How many other things have I been taught about the Gospels that aren’t true? I wondered.”(16)

Nonetheless, while at Harvard, Roberts gradually regained confidence in the Gospels, believing “that there are solid reasons for accepting them as reliable both for history and for faith.”(19)

Roberts’ opinions, while more conservative than those of secular Bible scholars, are more liberal than the typical inerrant fundamentalist platform. As a result, I feel this book will appeal to intellectual Christians from either mainline or fundamentalist backgrounds, possibly even halting a developing faith-crisis before it goes haywire. However, while not unabashedly apologetic, the book still harbors some undertones, which is likely unavoidable when discussing such an abstract and supernatural phenomena as the miracles of the Gospels. Since Roberts’ oversimplified the ease with which you can trust the Gospels, for a well-read doubter or skeptic, I fear that Roberts’ arguments might appear stale or unconvincing, generating more questions than answers. To summarize core points of the book, I will list selected chapters and follow with my opinion (a star* denotes where I disagree with Roberts):

Can we know what the original gospel manuscripts really said? Yes
Did the evangelists know Jesus personally? Some
When where the Gospels written? Soon after Jesus’ death, less than 100 years
What sources did the Gospel writers use? Oral Tradition
Did early Christian oral tradition reliably pass down the truth of Jesus? Maybe*
Are there contradictions in the Gospels? Some*
Do miracles undermine the reliability of the Gospels? Sometimes*
Do historical sources from the era of the Gospels support their reliability? Yes
Does archeology support the reliability of the gospels? Yes
Can we trust the Gospels after all? Some portions, but not with absolute certainty*

In his discussion of miracles, Roberts admits to being a skeptic; "if I hear some Christian claim that a miracle has happened, my first impulse isn’t to rejoice but to doubt.”(127) Of all the miracles in the Gospel stories, the resurrection presents the greatest injury to the mind, for though "naturalistic scholars have found ways to account for Jesus’ healings...the resurrection cannot be so stripped of its supernatural essence."(134) Even so, Roberts argues that acceptance of the resurrection can then persuade belief in other Gospel miracles:

...if you're a theist, then you can entertain the possibility that the Gospels accurately portray the miracles of Jesus as they really happened. But if you’re not a theist, if you don’t believe that there is a God who is active in human affairs and who can, as he wishes do things contrary to the usual process of nature, then you have an insurmountable problem with the Gospels.”(135)

Roberts expresses his worry over how the balance in secular academic institutions is tilted towards the atheist presupposition:

“Many of these functionally atheistic scholars aren’t intending to be deceptive. They operate in an academic culture where such atheism is simply assumed. So, for example, when many scholars evaluate the passages in the Gospels where Jesus predicts his death, they naturally and without argument assume that these predictions reflect the creative work of the early church...[Prophesy] doesn’t belong in historical scholarship.”(136)

As a remedy, Roberts proposes that both theists and atheists acknowledge the biases that color their interpretation of Scripture. However, while I appreciate the dangers of bias in Biblical studies, I think theistic scholars should at least acknowledge the intellectual challenges presented by the Gospel miracles as well as the deficit of evidence for such supernatural events. A downfall of most apologetic texts, the book downplays the uncertainty surrounding the Gospels, a conundrum overlooked until the last chapter, when Roberts concedes his inability to prove the reliability of the Gospels “beyond a reasonable doubt,” since “historical arguments about the 2,000 year old past...are too complex and convoluted for verdicts declared with a ring of certainty.”(193-4) Roberts then underscores the importance of a theistic perspective that facilitates trust in the Gospel, as opposed to a worldview that excludes miracles. But Roberts' analysis of the Gospel miracles seemed like several rounds of circular reasoning, arguing for the validity of Biblical miracles with the disclaimer that one must first be a theist to accept these claims. The requirement for a theistic bias presents a paradox for it fails to explain how one can become a theist in the first place. Roberts proposes:

“A theistic approach that allows for miracles produces the most elegant and persuasive account of Jesus’ ministry and the rise of early Christianity. Yet historical inquiry can only take us this far along the road of faith. The next steps take us beyond the assurance that history provides, into the realm of Spirit-inspired conviction.”(135)

You certainly can detect undertones of Roberts’ reformed perspective.

Though Roberts’ book allowed me to recover some “trust” in the Gospels, I also found my intellectual doubts refined and polished. I handled the unsettling doubts with calm and composure, evidence of my emotional adaptation. No longer do I experience a meltdown when another apologetics book fails to convert me into an ardent believer in Christ. I cannot fault Roberts for not accomplishing the later, and my criticism of the book is a reflection of my erroneous assumption that I could be “evangelized” into full mental assent to belief in Christ’s resurrection. However, in spite of my misgivings, I do recommend Roberts' book, not as a case for Christ, but for its educational value.

The Simple Gift of Uncertainty

2010-11-29T22:39:00.005-05:00

As I reflect on my struggles with doubt this year, I treasure the simple gifts of my life -- the joys of my children as they frolic in the autumn leaves. Though my dark night of the soul might have left me in state of intellectual uncertainty, nevertheless, I’ve found hope, not in the future, but in the present and past, reflecting on the blessings and the sorrow. Whether the product of chance mutation or divine providence, I remind myself that my life still carries meaning.

In watching my children grow, I remain humbly aware that we, too, are like children, for they represent our frail humanity. Doubt is not an evil to be avoided, but by-product of our humanness. Though some individuals claim to know certainty, much of reality is still enveloped in mystery. Acceptance of my doubts has opened the door to appreciate the sweet simplicity of the life of a child, blissfully ignorant of so much.

After reading several apologetic texts that have left me intellectually unfulfilled, I have relinquished the idol of being certain of the truth of Christianity. Doubt is the “thorn in my flesh” (2 Cor 12:7). Though it will satisfy neither the Christian, the skeptic, the seeker nor the atheist (and doesn't really fulfill me), I borrow the label “agnostic Christianity” to allow me a sense of peace with my life at present, achieving intellectual integrity while still valuing the traditions of my past.

I still harbor doubts that many would consider heretical. I wonder if Jesus was God. Strangely enough, I also have a renewed passion to carry out Jesus' command to "love your neighbor as yourself" Mark 12:31. As such, I've peeled back the all those layers I've worn to please others and find contentment in what remains of me. This journey has been dark and dreadful, I still experience ups and downs, and haven't quite figured out where I "fit in". But for today, let me treat you in my momentary discovery of that “gift to be simple”, the “gift to be free"...

Simple Gifts - Shaker Song by Joseph Brackett

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

performed by Allison Krauss and Yo-Yo Ma

Plethora of Ideas

2010-11-23T00:57:00.003-05:00

A plethora of ideas have been whirling through my mind, but I just can't find the time to write them down into blog posts. In the meantime, I'll share a preview of these thoughts:

Review of Mark Robert's book - In the works.

Faith of Theologians - Speculating why theologians have faith while hailing the uncertainties of Christianity. Refer to posts by Daniel Kirk at Storied Theology or Robert Cargill.

Adaptation - The evolution of one's psyche during a faith crisis. I've adapted emotionally while making absolutely no progress intellectually with my doubts. Meltdowns are now rare and short-lived. I've come to appreciate this adaptive process after commenting on posts by Tricia at the Quest and Mark at Christian Doubt.

Separation Anxiety and Security Blankets - Metaphors for the emotional crisis often exhibited by those that doubt and depart from fundamentalism. Check out posts by Irritable Reaching and Cliff Martin at Outside the Box.

Agnostic Christianity - The label that I've borrowed to describe my current status at this crossroads. Refer to the posts Why Remain and Agnostic Christianity. It isn't a very satisfying label for many reasons, particularly on an intellectual level. But nonetheless, the best I can come up with right now.

Agnostic Parenting - A term I've coined to describe parents like myself that second-guess their parenting decisions. I'll also reflect on the shortcomings of some Christian parenting books and my preference for evidence-based books written by psychologists.

Personality Type and Doubt - Exploring the link between personality type and where one falls on the spectrum of A/Theism. Check out posts by Technologeekery (Hendy) and Think and Wonder (DoOrDoNot). A related topic is the connection between OCD and Doubt.

Asberger's and Doubt - I stumbled upon this topic on a unrelated google search a few months ago, even looking up the symptoms to see if I was a candidate (I wasn't). I wondered about the theological implications of a mental illness that served as an obstacle towards obtaining faith. Last week, I received an email from Pete, a blogger who suffers from both Asberger's and doubt. The same day, the Netflix movie that came in the mail happened to be Temple Grandin, a movie about a girl suffering from autism. All these coincidences have solidified a desire to delve deeper into the topic. In the meantime, refer to Pete's blog at the Room of Grace or James Pate's post on Asberger's disease.

So many ideas, so little time. Why the time crunch? I am homeschooling now. The reasons behind it deserve a post of their own. To make a long story short, I am an accidental homeschooler, and most likely this will be a temporary venture. As I research curriculum, I've been dismayed at the extent of anti-evolution propaganda. At a homeschooling store, I was asked how one could believe in the Gospel and evolution. Just the question I wanted to hear while in the midst of a crisis! My eyes have been opened to the plight of Biologos as they develop science homeschooling curriculum, and my ignorance was obvious in my blog post on Education. On a related note, my husband is reading the book Who Made the Moon and plans to write a review soon.

Before I close, I wanted to point out some updates to my blog. I've included an About Me section that I will update periodically. I've updated my blog roll, with a list of fellow doubters. I'd like to point you towards Steve Mah's blog Reflections in Stained Glass who is requesting advice from anyone suffering from "existential distress".

As always, thanks for reading my posts and commenting. If you prefer, feel free to email me privately at likeachildscience at gmail dot com.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
LAC

Doubt, Trends, Julie, and Julia

2010-11-11T09:30:00.001-05:00

Several bloggers (Rachel Held Evans and Jason Boyett) recently discussed a trend that I have suspected myself -- the prevalence of doubt online and in print. Authors such as Rachel Held Evans, Jason Boyett, Robert Cargill, Peter Enns, Richard Beck and the late Michael Spencer have all discussed or admitted doubt. However, as commonplace as doubt might seem online, it remains a veiled subject within most churches, which likely triggered the rise of doubt in online circles, for where else can one go for advice?

Though at first glance, my own blog seems to support this trend, the link is completely unintentional. Rather, my inspiration came from a movie - Julie and Julia. Until that time, sharing my life with complete strangers would have been a foreign concept. Initially I tried to ignore the idea to create a blog, but it refused to die down. Here I am, almost a year later, "blogging" about my deepest and darkest struggles, in spite of the fact that I neither enjoy writing nor does it feel natural. Each post requires a ridiculous amount of editing and frequent visits to a thesaurus to find that perfect word for that thought buried deep in my mind. My first draft of a post is often unrecognizable from the final product. That said, writing has been surprisingly cathartic, and for the first time in my 32 years of existence, I've achieved intellectual honesty with myself and others. Translating my chaotic thoughts into intelligeable paragraphs has been vital to overcoming some of the despair associated with my doubt.

I've found it coincidential (or providential) that my own journey has had eerie parallels in the plot of Julie and Julia, particularly with the chaotic state of my emotions and the helplessness of my husband. At the risk of either trivializing my struggles or sounding corny, I wanted to share a clip that I found especially prophetic for my recent meltdown!

Wouldn’t it be nice if all it took was a phone call to obtain faith! Who knows, maybe it will eventually be that simple, and I will be struck with that spark of enlightenment experienced by Christians and scientists (see Polkinghorne review Part 2 and 3). The scientist in me is curious about the current neuropsychological theories over these momentary and unexpected brain strikes of pure brilliance. The skeptic in me wonders why they are so difficult to obtain. The agnostic in me wonders why some have such a hard time triggering those God neurons. The theologian in me starts theorizing about the neurological implications of Armenianism and Calvinism. And the mom in me wants to give my brain a sedative so I can get back to doing laundry, but wishes I had more time to delve into such interesting neuroscience research.

As an aside, I'm actually feeling more content now - I'll write on this later. I've had a couple of posts "in the works" for weeks now and thus, they don't always reflect how I am feeling at the moment I post them (sometimes I feel better, and sometimes I feel worse). That is the downside of taking too much time to edit a post!

Halloween and Doubt

2010-11-05T00:39:00.005-04:00

The Hunny Pot

Halloween stirs mixed emotions within me. For most of my childhood, I could not wear costumes and celebrate Halloween due to the influence of Southern Baptist culture on my unsuspecting parents. Though I felt excluded from my peers, I took comfort that Halloween was unbiblical.

After having children, I deviated from my childhood, realizing that most Christians actually celebrate Halloween. As I gazed upon my children's joyous costumed faces this Sunday, I felt a twinge of despair. Fundamentalism robbed my childhood the make-believe of Halloween under the pretense of pleasing God. To this day, the ghosts and witches of Halloween still manage to stir a subconscious anxiety within me -- relics of a childhood fundamentalism etched deep into my psyche.

Halloween is just one item on my ever-expanding list of childhood restrictions that are now devoid of meaning; evolution, literal flood, inerrancy, the list goes on. As I concede to Halloween, I wonder which other childhood values might share a similar fate. I'm hesitant to trust my gut instincts, for they still bear the scars of my formative years spent entrenched in strict fundamentalism.

With the exception of my science degree, I was the poster child for strict Christian fundamentalism at my secular liberal arts college, living in the world but not of it. Though awkward and alienated, I never questioned my choices (i.e. mandates), assuming I was following Scripture. But as I've grown older, I've noticed that even among Christians, I feel like the oddball who didn't drink, dance or party in my college days. As I learn how many of my childhood restrictions might have no Biblical basis, my entire worldview is destabilized. My intellectual doubt is the final wrecking ball (see also DoOrDoNot's similar post on Jenga).

Nevertheless, I still cling to the security of my childhood values. I don't always fit in with non-Christian or even mainline/Catholic Christian circles, because while I might be a skeptic on the inside, I still look much like a fundamentalist on the outside. There exists a disconnect between my mind and my life. Worse, my sheltered upbringing leaves me oblivious of the reality of 21st century culture. I am parenting from scratch now, navigating a delicate balance between loving my children but not sheltering them.

Princess Ariel

As I say goodbye to the security of fundamentalism, many parenting questions loom on the horizon, regardless of where I end up on the continuum of faith, doubt and skepticism. While I wage my war on doubt, I also wonder where my husband and I will draw the line in what we find acceptable in mainstream culture, and how we will validate our opinions to our children.

Yet again, I find myself with more questions than answers. Such is the life of a chronic doubter. I'll close with a quote given to me in one of the comments by "Drew":

"Reflectiveness, then, is a character trait deeply rooted in what one essentially is. It helps define one's fundamental experience of reality. The life of a reflective person is more likey to be interesting, less likely to be serene; more likely to be contemplative, less likely to be more active; more likely to marked with the pursuit of answers, less by the finding of them. The result is a high potential for creativity, curiosity, and discovery, but also for paralyzing ambivalence, alienation, and melancholy." by Daniel Taylor in The Myth of Certainty: The Reflective Christian and the Risk of Commitment

This is Not True Christianity...

2010-10-26T21:58:00.003-04:00

...and I apologize in advance on behalf of Christianity to all the stay-at-home dads and work-outside-the-home moms for these offensive comments by Driscoll. This is not true Christianity.

Follow this Link for Youtube video

When I started this blog, I vowed to never single out a group within Christianity or cast out judgment, because not one of us is perfect.

But I will make an exception, mostly to ask other Christian bloggers to discuss and critique this video. I have neither the courage nor the expertise to do this myself, particularly due to the severity of my doubts, but it saddens me deeply. I want to cry on behalf of anyone that was hurt by this video. I'm sorry.

Psychological Symptoms of a Faith Crisis

2010-10-22T19:34:00.004-04:00

I recently stumbled upon the Once-Saved website, which seeks to help Christians understand the process of deconversion. Some of the symptoms described on this website parallel my emotions over the last few months, a discovery that I found simultaneously comforting and alarming. Comforting in that it was a therapy of sorts to know that I was not alone. Alarming since I would not label myself as deconverted, but on a journey (although I do seem to be up against a brick wall lately). I suspect anyone experiencing a faith crisis - the dark night of the soul - would have symptoms such as these, irregardless of whether the doubts were intellectual or emotional, and where their journey eventually took them.

On this website, you'll find little in the way of advice to help decoverts find faith again. Nevertheless, I still recommend the site, particularly for anyone whose inclination is to look down upon doubters and skeptics like myself. As Christians begin to appreciate the struggles some individuals face to enter Christianity, they will, hopefully, exhibit more grace and compassion (and thus, my communion experience two weeks ago might have been prevented).

I will list a few excerpts from the website below. You'll notice the debilitating nature of the emotions. If you couple these emotions with any other difficulty of life, you have a recipe for disaster. The way I see it, many Christians will be unable to sustain this all-consuming crisis for long, particularly when faced with other more tangible life decisions, and they'll have no choice but to abandon what triggered the original crisis, i.e. Christianity. I've seen firsthand how underlying anxiety over doubt can muddy decision making and crisis handling in other arenas of my life (I'm currently in a paralysis about my daughter's school situation). And this leads me to another more philosophical question about theodicy - why would God allow this (you might retort that it is for the same reason all other evil comes to this world...why earthquakes come to Haiti and planes come to the World Trade Towers). But still, I suspect most Christians consider atheism/agnosticism to be a greater evil than death and suffering.

Here are some excerpts:

“Bereft of their Christian framework, feelings of depression drain their life of energy and motivation. Many people spend months struggling to regain their equilibrium. They reflect on the past and review the series of events that led up to their deconversion. This period of depression and deep reflection may create a need for outward expression. Writing, music, poetry, and art can serve as vehicles of reflection and healing for many.” They should add BLOGGING!

Read more at http://once-saved.com/making-the-decision

-it is a lengthy process that takes an average of 3 years
-it is a difficult time characterized by an uneasy feeling that 'something is not quite right'
-it is a time of intense personal struggle and mental anguish
-it is a lonely experience--conversion usually happens with the encouragement and friendship of others, but deconversion happens alone it is not the result of anger at one person or dissatisfaction with a particular church
-it happens while people are trying desperately to hold their faith together
-it is motivated by "Lord, I want to know you!"
-it can cause physical symptoms such as severe chest pain and panic attacks
-it can cause depression and thoughts of suicide
-They never in their wildest dreams imagined that they could lose their faith.
-They sincerely believed in Christ.
-They were seeking God and trying to live their lives for Him.
-They believed that sincerely seeking the truth would lead them to God.
-They believed that knowing what they believed would enable them to share the reason for the hope that was in them with others.
-They tried desperately to make themselves keep believing. They feel abandoned by God.
-They experience grief and the stages of grief.
-They experience a destruction of their identity and purpose for living.
-They have to reconstruct their personal framework on their own.
Read more at http://once-saved.com/exchristian-deconversion

Faith of a Physicist by John Polkinghorne (Part 3)

2010-10-14T01:24:00.005-04:00

(see also Part 1 and Part 2)

In the later chapters of Faith of a Physicist, Polkinghorne addresses “the clash of view and the ebb and flow” of New Testament scholarly work (88). At the heart of this controversy is what is at stake:

“Christianity is the most historically oriented of world religions, and the focus…is the life of Jesus of Nazareth”. While “historians have sometimes criticized New Testament scholars for their marked reluctance to trust their sources…in many people’s minds, much more hangs on the assessment of the life and character of Jesus than the life and character of Julius Caesar.”(88-89)

Nevertheless, Polkinghorne believes a bottom-up thinker can find satisfactory evidence for the orthodox views of the Nicene Creed.

Polkinghorne scrutinizes the most common objections to the Gospel accounts. For example, the four Gospel writers were “attempting to achieve a genuine historical authenticity in their accounts of Jesus” but might have “molded their material by selecting it and ordering it.”(91-92) On the variations in the statements of Jesus, Polkinghorne hypothesizes that “if elements both human and divine meet in Christ, the perseveration of the true humanity surely must mean that the historical person did not go around thinking of himself as God”(102). While persuasive, Polkinghorne's conclusions seem risky, for if Jesus did not view himself as God, one might conclude that the disciples concocted his divineness in an attempt to increase the appeal of Christianity.

Though Polkinghorne concedes that some miracle stories may be fictitious and cannot “be used simply as ‘proofs’ of, say, Jesus’ divinity, in a way that pre-critical generations attempted”(104), he retains orthodox views on the resurrection of Jesus, even after admitting that many of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances seem more legendary than real. On the virgin birth of Jesus, I was surprised to learn that while the resurrection is widely referenced, there is little evidence for the virgin birth, an “assertion which gives the greatest trouble to the bottom-up thinker”(144), yet Polkinghorne still believes to be true. I’m left with the unsettling task of deciphering why Polkinghorne rejects some miracle stories, simply because they defy the laws of nature, but retains belief in the virgin birth and resurrection, which is equally offensive to the natural world. This is the question that keeps me up at night, for the “resurrection is the pivot on which Christian faith turns”(108) and the “vindication of hopes of humanity”(121).

In his final chapters, Polkinghorne relates his rather unconventional, yet intellectually satisfying views on hell and pluralism. On hell, Polkinghorne states the following:

“There cannot be a kind of curtain which comes down at death, dividing humanity irreversibly into the companies of the saved and of the damned. God’s loving offer of mercy cannot be for the term of our earthly life alone...but equally I do not believe he will override the human freedom to refuse. If there is a hell, its doors, as the preachers say, are locked on the inside. It is not a place of torment, but rather a place of exquisite boredom, for it has all the emptiness of life without God.”(171)

With regards to pluralism, Polkinghorne considers it to be “a pressing problem for a credible theology, why the diversity of religious affirmations should not lead us to the conclusion that they are merely the expressions of culturally determined opinions.”(176) In spite of the difficulties, Polkinghorne regards Christianity as ultimate truth, though he concedes that God may reveal himself to individuals through other religions.

As I finished Faith on a Physicist, I came away with more doubts than when I started - an ironic effect from a book written by a Christian, not an atheist. Initially, the bottom-up approach to Christianity was a refreshing alternative to the presupposition apologetics of Calvinism. But Polkinghorne’s approach was not foolproof. The hazy truth in the four Gospel accounts, the mythical character of certain miracle accounts, the idea that Jesus was unaware he was God, and the ambiguity of the resurrection, taken as a whole, seem to speak more of Jesus being a good teacher who the disciples later fabricated stories about to raise the status of Christianity. Polkinghorne might label me as overly cynical, for “while the search for truth requires a critical evaluation of that past (and present), it is not likely to be assisted by a negative skepticism.”(31) But after decades of being shielded from the data by fundamentalist churches, is it surprising that I would harbor such skepticism? Perhaps the sting of deception caused Polkinghorne’s appeal for orthodoxy to look increasingly like wishful thinking to me, and instead, I began to appreciate the reasons why so many academics view Christianity as a myth. I feel much like Darwin, who after writing the Origin of the Species, wrote to his friend Asa Gray:

“I am inclined to look at everything as resulting from designed laws, with the details, whether good or bad, left to the working out of what we may call chance. Not that this notion at all satisfies me. I feel most deeply that the whole subject is too profound for the human intellect.”(76)

Polkinghorne’s focus on evidence is complicated by the fact that while most scientists have theories they can all agree on, there is no consensus for the truth of religion in our pluralistic world. One might argue that science is equally rampant with stories of bias, fabrication and errors, a problem that I am genuinely aware of after a bioethics internship analyzing the skepticism that scientists often have about the peer review process. But nevertheless, we can’t apply the same standards of truth to Christianity as we do for science. Christianity will transcend any comparison to science, for “the question of the existence of God is the single most important question we face about the nature of reality”(52).

Perhaps with time, my mind will readjust to what I’ve learned. I was similarly unnerved by the mythical-poetic model of the Old Testament described by Pete Enns, but eventually persevered. Yet, doubt in the New Testament is much more dangerous than that of the Old Testament. In the meantime, I’ll remain cautiously hopeful that an unintelligible process is taking place in my brain that will completely alter my faith in Christianity, and I’ll experience the Damascus-road experience shared by both scientists and Christians alike, putting my faith in the “one who is worthy of worship…the fitting ground of the hope that there is meaning to existence and a final fulfillment waiting us.”(66)

Wearing a Scarlet Letter During Communion

2010-10-10T16:43:00.003-04:00

Last weekend, I saw a glimmer of hope that my faith battles were coming to an end after sharing my struggles with a dear friend (who lives in another state). This weekend, my optimism was crushed after attending an Anglican church. Communion provoked my distress since it is closed to unbelievers, who instead must cross their arms together for a blessing. My family and I remained in our seats (which is humiliating in itself). I felt it dishonest to partake of communion with my agnostic thoughts, yet I was too embarrassed to cross my arms. My husband was fully behind my decision, comparing the practice to wearing a scarlet letter.

Christians often reassure doubters that we still have faith - that the distress caused by our loss of faith is evidence of still having faith (check out this short post by Daniel Kirk). But these pleas of reassurance can fall on deaf ears when one is in the throes of a faith crisis. I cannot shake this feeling that I should refrain from communion until it is open to all, not only because of my own struggles, but for matter of principle. Perhaps the way Christians go about communion is flawed, for it ostracizes the very people we are called to love.

As I came home in tears, I was comforted by listening to the song, Maybe There's a Loving God, by Sara Groves, an artist recommended by my friend. The lyrics of this song have uncanny parallels to my own life, reflecting the struggles of my mind and the feelings of helplessness of my husband and my parents. I couldn't have written a better summary of my life myself. Here are the lyrics:

I'm trying to work things out • I'm trying to comprehend • Am I the chance result • Of some great accident • I hear a rhythm call me • The echo of a grand design • I spend each night in the backyard • Staring up at the stars in the sky • • I have another meeting today • With my new counselor • My mom will cry and say • I don't know what to do with her • She's so unresponsive • I just cannot break through • She spends all night in the backyard • Staring up at the stars and the moon • • They have a chart and a graph • Of my despondency • They want to chart a path • For self-recovery • And want to know what I'm thinking • What motivates my mood • To spend all night in the backyard • Staring up at the stars and the moon • • Maybe this was made for me • For lying on my back in the middle of a field • Maybe that's a selfish thought • Or maybe there's a loving God • • Maybe I was made this way • To think and to reason and to question and to pray • And I have never prayed a lot • But maybe there's a loving God • • Maybe this was made for me • For lying on my back in the middle of a field • Maybe that's a selfish thought • Or maybe there's a loving God • • Maybe I was mad this way • To think and to reason and to question and to pray • And I have never prayed a lot • But maybe there's a loving God • • And that may be a foolish thought • Or maybe there is a God • And I have never prayed a lot • But maybe there's a loving God •

http://www.saragroves.com/lyrics/allrighthere/maybetheresalovinggod/

Note: I'm interpreting "chance result of some great accident" to mean atheistic evolution, and "echo of a grand design" to mean theistic evolution (aka evolutionary creation).

Faith of a Physicist by John Polkinghorne (Part 2)

2010-10-08T17:58:00.005-04:00

(see also Part 1)

In Faith of a Physicist, Polkinghorne discusses how a “bottom-up” thinker like a scientist can ground their faith in Christianity in evidence, as opposed to the “top-down” approach used by theologians that assume the truth of Christianity. While “faith goes beyond what is logically demonstrable – and what worthwhile view of reality does not? – yet it is capable of rational motivation. Christians do not have to close their minds…”(5) For a bottom-up thinker, the “anchorage of Christianity in history is to be welcomed, despite its hazards…The Bible is neither an inerrant account of propositional truth nor a compendium of timeless symbols, but a historically conditioned account of certain significant encounters and experiences. Read in that way…it can provide the basis for a Christian belief which is certainly revised in the light of our twentieth-century insights, but which is recognizably contained within an envelope of understanding in continuity with the developing doctrine of the Church throughout the centuries.”(8)

Polkinghorne evaluates the Nicene Creed, an “outline of a rationally defensible theology which can be embraced with integrity as much as today as when it was first formulated in the fourth century.”(8) The first half of the book presents compelling philosophical arguments for the existence of God, based on evidence in humanity, i.e. the power and complexity of the human intellect and consciousness -- “that a temporal succession of vibrations in the air can speak to us of eternity is a fact that must be accommodated in any adequate account of reality…I want to say to my friends who have difficulty with religious belief, can you deny music? If not, then you acknowledge a dimension of reality transcending the material.”(45) I often felt this sense of awe, when viewing cells through a microscope, observing the utter complexity of the outdoors, or enjoying the innocence of my sweet children. In contrast, atheists “claim that science is all, and that beauty and the rest are merely human constructs arising from the hard-wiring of our brains.”(56)

As a bottom-up thinker, Polkinghorne draws parallels between science and faith. As in science, the goal in Christianity is truth, for although “a religious belief can do all sorts of things for us – it can sustain us in life and in the approach of death; it can provide a thread of meaning in what would otherwise be a labyrinth of inanity – but it cannot do these things with integrity unless it is founded on the truth…The religious believer wishes to be found in the company of honest inquirers and not of polemicists for a cause.”(30) Christianity’s search for truth builds upon past observations as it attains new knowledge, for “no one – least of all a scientist – can start intellectual history from scratch.”(30) I saw this firsthand when I worked in a lab, for I had to trust the authenticity of literature and the process of peer review. The common strand shared by scientists and Christians is that both must trust their predecessors; “whatever our intellectual discipline may be, we are heirs to its tradition.”(31)

Christianity and science also share similarities in how truth is attained, for both involve similar leaps of faith:

"The ability of understanding to outrun explanation is intimately connected with the religious concept of faith. This is not a polite expression for unsubstantiated assertions, but it points to an ability to grasp things in totality, the occurrence of an insight which is satisfying to the point of being self-authenticating, without dependence on detailed analysis. Involved is a leap of the mind – not into the dark, but into the light. The attainment of understanding in this way does not remove the obligation to seek subsequent explanation, to the degree that it is available, but the insight brings with it a tacit assurance that such explanation should be there for the eventual finding. Such experiences are common among scientists.” Polkinghorne describes how for physicist Paul Dirac, “one of his foundational ideas about quantum theory came to him ‘in a flash’ when he was out for a Sunday walk. He was too cautious to be sure immediately that it was right, and the fact that the libraries were closed preventing his checking it right away. Nevertheless, ‘confidence gradually grew in the course of the night,’ and Monday morning shoed that his idea was sound”. The idea came to mathematician Henri Poincare as he stepped onto a bus, and though he could not “verify the idea” right then, he “felt a perfect certainty”. While “not all illuminations of faith come in this preemptory Damascus-road manner; many will involve a growing conviction whose coming to maturity may not be datable. Their common essence is the attainment of understanding by the power of the whole, by intuitive grasp rather than detailed argument.”(37-38)

This quote is quite possibly my favorite from the book, for while the attainment of Christian faith still confounds me, I can relate to the ambiguity over how scientific theories are born.

Polkinghorne spends the later part of the book dissecting the controversy over the New Testament Gospels to find evidence for why a bottom-up thinker can place faith in Christianity. I’ll discuss Polkinghorne's views in my third and final post on Faith of a Physicist.

Faith of a Physicist by John Polkinghorne (Part 1)

2010-10-05T21:12:00.003-04:00

I’ve battled intellectual doubt over the Gospel story since high school. As I studied evolution in college, questions about the Genesis story took priority, and I left my Gospel doubts on the backburner. To dull my overactive imagination, I avoided rigorous Bible study, allowing me a superficial harmony of faith and science. After becoming a parent, I felt a renewed desire to seek deeper faith, and my fear of the Bible succumbed to my guilt over not reading it. I joined a morning women’s Bible study, but experienced intense cognitive dissonance as we studied Exodus, questioning both the miraculous accounts of Yahweh and our ability to extract theological concepts, particularly the idea of the Calvinist elect. However, a woman’s Bible study is not a university classroom. I stifled my questions, and again read the Bible superficially to apply principles to my life, as a wife and mom. Yet, keeping my doubts caged in proved difficult to sustain, and through a series of events, I had no choice but to give these doubts the attention they deserved, even if it was in private, on this blog.

First, I tackled the pressing question of evolution by reading Peter Enns’ Inspiration and Incarnation (see my review). Though Enns’ mythical-poetic model satisfied all those pressing Old Testament questions from my women’s Bible study, but it unleashed a torrent of doubts over the New Testament that were repressed since my teenage years. I was haunted over the authenticity of Christ’s virgin birth, miracles and resurrection – questions that were at the heart of my lifelong doubt. To find clarity, I read Faith of a Physicist by John Polkinghorne, a former theoretical physicist who became an Anglican priest.

Much to my dismay, this book accelerated the downward trajectory of my faith. In brainstorming reasons for this book’s troubling effect upon me, I’ve wondered if I set myself up to fall by selecting such a complex book. With all the theological terms, quotes and references to theologians, it was difficult to tease out what Polkinghorne was actually saying, and each interruption meant backtracking several paragraphs to regain my train of thought. I often found myself flipping to the glossary to understand the plethora of obscure theological terms, frustrated with the cryptic prose and my own naivete. As a mom of two active kids, reading theology books is a sacrifice, not a task I do for leisure. You can imagine my despair over watching my faith paradoxically unravel with each chapter at the expense of neglecting my sweet kids who yearned for my attention. You might ask why didn’t I put this book aside. I have but one word – stubbornness. In my mind, giving up on Polkinghorne was the equivalent of giving up on Christianity, and I held out hope that my faith would revive to the very last page.

Though my review of Faith of a Physicist will harbor a negative tone, it is more a reflection of my own ignorance rather than any major fault of the book itself, for if I had been a professional theologian, I might have a different perspective. Perhaps I’ll look back on this experience and feel grateful, but right now, I feel like the rug has been pulled from under me. If I was pressed for one positive effect from reading the book, I would resort to joking how the book often put me to sleep, granting me a much needed reprieve from my usual late night musing about doubt! With these disclaimers, I’ll reflect on the book in my next post.

(see also Part 2 and Part 3)

Still at the Crossroads

2010-10-01T02:14:00.000-04:00

Though absent from blogging in the past two weeks, my quest is still in full force. My thoughts are chaotic, and what I write one day changes the next. There is not much new in this post, so free to skip reading this if you've been following my previous posts...

I cannot deny the disappointment that still grieves my heart. While theologians often hail the benefits of doubt, mine have reached a destructive level. My intellectual doubt centers on the virgin birth and resurrection of Jesus, tearing away the foundation of my Christian faith. I long for the faith that I once knew – that now seems beyond my reach. The evidence for the authenticity of the Gospel message that seems dull and unconvincing right now. I’m like a child at a candy store who has been prohibited from buying candy.

By day, I'm that happy mom, doting on my kids. By night, I gather the pieces of my shattered faith. I cry often, wondering what I did wrong. Without Christianity, my life seems to loose its meaning, a by-product of mere evolutionary chance. Every little hiccup in life reminds me of my unbelief, instigating more tears. My daughter misbehaved in school, and I automatically blamed myself. After a three-week hiatus, I ventured back into church, but left feeling more wretched than when I came. I’ve become like a robot in church, going through the motions, meanwhile hoping my faith might revive itself one day. I feel disconnected from Christians, which creates emotional doubts that stir the wounds left by my intellectual doubts. The country club feel of the church leaves so little room for exploration, but I cannot conquer these doubts in isolation. I have no desire to battle my intellectual doubt AND the culture wars of the church. I have this nagging fear that the church is in danger of looking like a cult to the rest of the world, but I'm not sure how to voice my concerns.

Strangely enough, I still see a dimension to this world that reason alone cannot grasp, a perspective enhanced by my time spent in a lab, learning to appreciate the messy and confusing picture often found in research. Yet, this vague idea of a creator is unrewarding, turning me into a deist, not a Christian. And I’ll admit, deism looks like wishful thinking. Christianity would have been the anchor to my concept of God, and by losing my anchorage, I’m left drifting aimlessly.

In shedding the fundamentalist picture of Scripture from my youth, the sting of deception has set in, coupled with an inability to trust the church. If they misled me once, can I trust them again? For the record, I am not making a conscious decision to abandon Christianity. I only wish to be honest about the agnosticism that inhabits my mind, even if I cringe while admitting it. If it weren’t for my children, my loss of faith and lack of a church might not seem so catastrophic. But I don’t want to teach my children this messy picture of agnosticism I now know -- a world that seems to proclaim the existence of and need for a creator and redeemer, but where Christianity seems to be a man-made construct of God.

Eventually, my children will ask questions, and I will be forced to make a decision, however uncertain it might be. Do I grieve my family and friends by choosing atheism? Do I dive blindly into Christianity and risk loosing my intellectual integrity? Either way, I loose just as much as I gain. There is a third choice. Can I live “like a Narnian” even while thinking “there isn't any Narnia” (CS Lewis quote given to me by Steve at Undeception.com)? This last option is emotionally difficult to put into practice, because while I retain intellectual honesty, I miss out on the hope of believing in Narnia, meanwhile exposing myself to chastisement from the Narnians for my unbelief.

Many of my blogging friends have come to the crossroads where I now reside. Some like Archamaedes, Cliff, Dan, Rich and Steve have walked the road towards Christianity. Others, such as Atimetorend, Dagood and Zoe, have chosen the path towards atheism, alienated by family and friends. Fellow bloggers DoorDoNot and Mark are still exploring the issues. All share the common bond of having faced their doubts with integrity and passion. None will sugarcoat the obstacles to faith. If and when I venture out from this crossroads, I’ll look back and wonder why others chose a different route. My struggles certainly give credence to the Calvinist picture of God since I’m unable to believe on my own accord. Why did God bypass so many of His gift of faith, including my atheists blogging friends who tried so hard? I suspect that if more Calvinists actually understood our plight, their theology would seem less exclusive, and the term "elect" would be a thing of the past.

The Importance of Community (and a thanks)

2010-09-15T12:28:00.003-04:00

I wanted to share a post out in the blogging world that grabbed my attention. On the Jesus Creed blog, RJS wrote a piece addressing the “Matter of Tone and Approach” when discussing controversial issues in the realm of science and faith. RJS features an email she received that expresses many of the sentiments I wrote about in my series on Mohler v. Biologos (Part 1 and Part 2). I particularly resonated with RJS when she says “this isn’t a debate or a competition – there are no winners or losers – no one is keeping score – there are only brothers and sisters looking for truth." At the end of RJS’ post, I was surprised to see an excerpt of a comment I left on Justin Topp’s blog:

"...I am thankful that I have the support of the nice people on my own blog, for if I was doing research solely on the big blogs like Jesus Creed or Biologos, I probably would have given up by now...”

When writing the above statement, my goal was to highlight that the excessive back and forth rhetoric between the two diametrically opposed sides that obscures the questions from the honest seekers and skeptics that don’t wish to debate, but see if and how Christianity fits into their lives and move on.

But for my readers, I hope the take-home message is how instrumental your comments have been in sustaining me during my faith crisis. I take keen interest in reading your comments, often reviewing and mulling over them. I’m continually awe-struck at the raw sincerity and deep insight expressed. In a comment to my most recent post, “Drew” said “Thank you for your openness and allowing yourself to bare your soul to total strangers. I don't know if I would have the courage to do that or not.” Actually, I feel quite the contrary. I’m not very brave – I don’t even have the courage to reveal my identity on this blog, let alone in real life where none but my husband knows the struggles I’ve shared with you. So the courageous ones are not me, but you, who are willing to share your thoughts with me, a stranger. Thank you for bringing such a sense of community on this blog that is lacking in the church. (On a side note, this anonymity enables me to post photos of my kids...and I feel it is so important to involve them and strive for respect and humility when writing, for one day, they may be reading what I write here).

The Crossroads of My Journey

2010-09-08T23:31:00.001-04:00

Two happy kids who I love too much to waste time being gloomy.

After Saturday's meltdown (see here), my husband and I brainstormed ideas for how to proceed (some of which I discussed in the comments section of my previous post). I was able to function for approximately 24 hours before I again felt the wave of sadness upon me when I spotted a church building on the way to take the kids fishing. After tears and a couple arguments, I declared to my husband that I couldn't bear this struggle any longer - I was going to give up on being a Christian. We've been in auto-pilot mode since then.

While "giving up" is not in my vocabulary, I'm weary from reading books that frankly, are not very exciting. This fervent quest of mine is becoming tedious and draining, and maybe that is part of the problem. I am not taking pleasure in the simple gifts of my life. I must learn to cope with my doubts and not let them trigger despair. Thus, as I plow on, I have a renewed awareness that I cannot let this journey consume my life - I need to slow down. I'd like to think that if Jesus is real, He'd rather see me laughing and hugging my kids rather than selfishly buried in books and mulling over Christianity in shame.

Part of the path towards recovery involves accepting where the journey has taken me thus far, as unfortunate as it might be. And I am in mourning -- grieving for the loss of my faith. It has been a slow and painful death -- a loss I bear in private. My denial of what is happening is likely the reason why I have felt so tortured. But, while it has accompanied me for most of my life, the Christian faith I knew was based on deception, incorrect assumptions and fundamentalist fear tactics. Saying good bye is painful, but life will go on. Perhaps by shedding my childhood faith, I will encounter a more satisfying Christian faith. Often, I wonder if I'm in the throes of a de-conversion experience to agnosticism. Maybe I'll always lie on this pendulum of faith, doubt and agnosticism. Nevertheless, I must accept my altered perspective on Christianity, with the hope that the "church" will embrace my journey even if it includes admitting a state of agnosticism.

I'll be honest - I'm terrified (and so is my husband). I'd love to press the pause/rewind buttons on my brain. I'd even settle for a fast-forward button. But in the absence of a remote, I must live out the drama of my philosophical wanderings without trembling. Regrettably, my journey includes finishing the Polkinghorne book with which I have a love-hate relationship, but I'll be scaling down the intensity, remembering to take joy in living life and enjoying my sweet children. I'll just have to learn to deal with the shame and embarrassment I will feel when around Christians. A lesson in humility, perhaps?

Finally, I wanted to thank you for commenting on my posts. Many of you have been at the same place I am now, and while your paths may have taken you to different places, I value the diversity of your perspectives. I'm indebted to you all for the time and effort you devote to helping me - a mere stranger out in the blogosphere. I am at a crossroads, and I hope that regardless of where my quest takes me, you will continue to share your input. One thing is for certain, we will always share the common bond of living through the dark night of the soul.

One final thought in case I didn't make it clear already. I am utterly frustrated at how my journey is unfolding. I look back at my initial posts, and while confused, I was so excited about the prospect of greater faith. I never could have imagined I would be here now, more confused than ever.

Help...It's a Beautiful Day and I'm Insane

2010-09-04T12:53:00.005-04:00

Its a beautiful day and all I want to do is lie in bed. My doubts are just too severe. I feel like burning Polkinghorne's Faith of a Physicist, because it is having the paradoxical effect of increasing my doubts (I have 1/4 of the book left to read). To be completely honest, I don't feel like I have any faith to hold onto anymore, as utterly depressing it is to admit it. For most of my life, I've lived and breathed Christianity - everything I've done has revolved around it -- my morals, my compassion for others, my dedication and care for my children, even my choice of a profession, motivated by a desire to help rather than find a career that was financially lucrative. I don't know how NOT to be a Christian. My 6 yr old has elements of Christianity already ingrained in her, and my 2 yr old son automatically sings a prayer before dinnertime without being asked. I'm 32 years old, and I've been a Christian for the majority of that time. While I've often had my doubts, I've always assumed that there was something out there that I needed to learn -- a historical apologetic argument that would remove the doubts -- but I was just too busy to embark on this exhaustive search. Now, after sacrificing my sanity, I still haven't found that "ah-ha" moment when all my doubts disappear. How do I remain a Christian when I'm unconvinced that Jesus died and rose again for our sins. How do I enter church and worship, when I feel that the emotions that we perceive as the Holy Spirit might have no supernatural origin, and that Christianity is merely a human construct to cope with life as we know it. I am going crazy, unable to cope with the way things are progressing in my life. I'd like to be a Christian, but I have no idea how. I grew up in a fundamentalist Southern Baptist church, spent the last 3 years in a fundamentalist Presbytarian PCA church, and I am broken. After our past experiences and my current doubt in the central tenants of Christianity, how can I muster any trust in the "church"? To make matters worse, I have no breathing room, as it would create total havoc upon my family to declare myself to be an agnostic (which is the most honest characterization of how I feel most days). You've read the posts by my husband. While he is learning to be extremely supportive, even he is clueless at the moment. And no matter how supportive your spouse can be, we are at a moment in our lives that my lack of faith could tear us apart because of our children and deciding what to teach them.

Normally, I take days to tweak my posts and make my thoughts seem as coherent as possible, but today, I dont have the energy to do that. So here are some additional thoughts. My daughter started first grade this year, and it is her first year in public school, as she was in a church-based pre-K through Kindergarten program. I'm not thrilled with the idea of her attending public schools, but we didn't get in the local classical Christian school whose educational philosophy (Charlotte Mason) I loved. The rejection letter we received from the school showed little evidence of Christianity, and I'll be completely honest - that was probably the initial "spark" to my faith crisis (along with reading some church sponsored books that labeled parents like myself that didn't spank as disobeying a Biblical mandate). At the time, we were at a small PCA church and the majority of the congregation, including the pastors and elders, had kids in private school (or homeschooled). We were the oddballs. While we stayed in the church for some time, my faith-crisis ensued, mostly over Calvinism and Reformed theology ("Was I elect?" was the question that replayed in my mind over and over again). We left that church 12 months ago, and most recently settled for awhile at an Anglican church, but lately, I am finding disconcerting elements of our old church in our new church. The majority of this church's leadership is again, associated with private schools. At the same time, I'm no longer convinced that public school is the right choice for my daughter. Most of my decision to opt for public schools was based on my Christian faith -- mercy and compassion for those that could not afford the expensive schools. I felt we had a duty to involve ourselves in our community. But after a week of school, I am feeling utterly naive and ill-prepared. I look at the leadership of this new church and I must confess envy, but then I develop turmoil over spending 10,000k a year for each child, when millions are dying for lack of food.

In sum, my intellectual doubts are at a climax and are at the heart of the issue. The issue of finding a church home, the church leadership, schools, theology and parenting are all extra baggage, but they are heavy enough that without the foundation of faith, they weigh me down. We are at the end of the road as far as church is concerned for it feels as if we've run out of options. I end this post with a plea for YOUR help. I want to enjoy this beautiful and sunny Labor day weekend. I don't want to feel like I'm going crazy anymore.

For further reading, check out some of these links below, which detail similar episodes of doubt (some so severe that they end up de-converting). I was compiling them for a post analyzing elements of faith versus deconversion (an idea stimulated by this post on the Jesus Creed blog). The stories below provide evidence that I am not alone in my struggles:

Technologeekery blog post
atimetorend Post 1
atimetorend Post 2
Christian Doubt Post 1
Christian Doubt Post 2
Christian Doubt Post 3
Think and Wonder Post 1
Think and Wonder Post 2
Dagood Post 1
Dagood Post 2
Dagood Post 3
Jesus Creed Post 1
Jesus Creed Post 2
Jesus Creed Post 3

Taking on the Elephant—A Deeper Look at Doubt from the Outside (guest post)

2010-08-30T23:54:00.006-04:00

public-domain.zorger.com

Guest Post by Like a Child’s Husband

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:11-12 (NIV)

In my previous post, I described the journey of our marriage thus far, and how the struggle between doubt and faith has played out within it. I wanted to switch gears a bit now and talk about this struggle on a deeper level, recognizing how it can take an emotional toll on the person struggling with doubt and the spouse who is trying to help. Forgive me if I at times write from the vantage point of having faith already “figured out”, for I do realize we are all on a journey.

The assumption that faith is the same for everyone is wrong. Faith does not come easily to everyone and not everyone has the same needs in order to have faith. All of us are “wired” differently if you will. As a physician, I see people dying all of the time, despite us employing ridiculously heroic methods to try to save them. This is humbling to me, and leads me to believe that there is a God that has us figured out better than we can figure ourselves out--beyond just the intricate workings of our physical bodies. I cannot conceive the lack of a God when I consider the majesty of our world (even though it is fraught with its share of tragedy as well). The thought that this world, along with the unique nature of man, could have come about in the absence of a higher power is downright depressing and frightening to me. But that is me.

As I repeatedly tried to insist that the constructs that developed and sustain my faith in God should be easily accepted by my wife, I caused much strife. In doing so, I also ignored the unique qualities that God has given each of us. Instead of coming alongside as a partner in understanding and love, I often fell into the trap of trying to “convince” her of all of the things she is struggling to believe. This is more damaging than anything. There have been days full of tears and discouragement over all of this. Once I realized that she really is crying out to her Heavenly Father to reveal Himself to her in such a way that she can be at peace, I really felt for her struggle.

I’d like to think I’ve come to a better place now because of all that we have been through (described in my previous post). I’d like to think that she has too, even though the questions may not all be resolved. In my own faith, I feel assured that God is using this experience for a greater good, as trying as it may be for the both of us. This whole experience has truly softened my heart towards those who do not believe in Christ or who want to believe but face such a battle in their mind in order to get there.

Several years ago, I must admit, I would likely think of someone struggling with doubt as not “trying” hard enough or being stubborn. In recent years I have realized the destruction this type of thinking causes. It’s no wonder so many people, particularly our youth, are walking away from Christ if they are confronted with this attitude rather than one of humble understanding. We can’t simply ask people to toe the line and not question things. If we truly believe God is who he says he is, the struggle with doubt (even if in someone we love dearly), should not move us to fear. We can argue, debate and employ the slickest apologetics, but in the end these all rely largely on our human abilities and reasoning, which can only take us so far. If they could take us “all the way” there would be no need for the existence of the faith we are trying to prove. As my wife has repeatedly said, and it has become quite obvious to me, the greatest “apologetic” is man reflecting the love of Christ on his fellow man. I guess it’s sort of akin to leading by example.

It has not been an easy road to learn all of this. I am still learning how to be a good husband and be supportive. I see that others are in similar struggles, judging by the number of blogs out there attributed to the problem of doubt (and also my experience at the Biologos conference). If I can even begin to imagine that I am in a place to give advice, I would say to remain understanding, always looking for the plank in your own eye when the doubts frustrate you. Remember that your spouse, loved one, friend, etc. does not want these doubts any more than you want him/her to struggle with them. Perhaps that is why some decided to just give up. I’m sure the struggle can make one weary, for I have seen it firsthand.

We clearly were not promised a life of roses and sunshine here on earth. I think doubt counts as one of the many thorns and clouds we face.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. John 16:33 (NIV)

But there is a greater hope, even if a season (or lifetime) of struggling with doubt precedes it. Both my wife and I are seeing a “poor reflection” of our true purpose, clouded by a confusing world...even though I don’t struggle with doubt. A lesson in humility I have learned and continue learning from her!

I’ll close with a reference to a new song by Sanctus Real. The lyrics pretty well sum up what I see in my life and what I strive to be for my family, and how confusing it is to figure out how and what to do for them.

I look around and see my wonderful life
Almost perfect from the outside
In picture frames I see my beautiful wife
Always smiling
But on the inside, I can hear her saying

"Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love
Chasing dreams, what about us?

Show me you're willing to fight
That I'm still the love of your life
I know we call this our home
But I still feel alone."

I see their faces, look in their innocent eyes
They're just children from the outside
I'm working hard, I tell myself they'll be fine
They're independent
But on the inside, I can hear them saying

"Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love
Chasing dreams, what about us?

Show me you're willing to fight
That I'm still the love of your life
I know we call this our home
But I still feel alone."

So Father, give me the strength
To be everything I am called to be
Oh, Father, show me the way
To lead them
Won't you lead me?

To lead them with strong hands
To stand up when they can't
Don't want to leave them hungry for love
Chasing dreams that I could give up

I'll show them I'm willing to fight
And give them the best of my life
So we can call this our home
Lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone

LEAD ME LYRICS - SANCTUS REAL

Finding Unity in the Science and Faith Debate

2010-08-29T15:16:00.001-04:00

I  met Kathryn Applegate (former scientist and director of website development at Biologos) at the Biologos conference that my husband and I attended this past June at Gordon College in Wenham, Massachusetts. I hold great respect for Kathryn as a Christian, scientist and a friend. I plan to share my experiences at this conference in a future post, but first, let me encourage you to read Kathryn's latest post on the Biologos blog, entitled Thoughts on Unity and Integrity . This post is part of the Biologos series of worship on Sunday mornings. I'm glad to see these thoughts expressed at a time when the debate between science and faith seems to be coming to a climax. We should all strive to show love when discussing these issues - they should not tear Christianity apart.

Mohler v. Biologos - Take Two

2010-08-27T14:07:00.008-04:00

Take two

The conversation between Biologos and Mohler is becoming increasingly less civil by the minute (and I’ll add the disclaimer that as a mom, my barometer of sensitivity is elevated, so what I might label insensitive might be considered normal by others). Here are the links to the post by Karl Giberson, vice-president of Biologos and that of Albert Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. I cringed when I read theses posts, am exhausted by all the rhetoric, and stand by my original thoughts posted in my blog entry “Mohler v. Biologos”. In a nutshell, I suspect the back and forth dialogue between these two is doing more harm than good for the cause of Christ. The controversy can make me feel somewhat hopeless in my quest for faith. I’d love to side with Giberson, but my intellectual doubts have transcended just the book of Genesis. If I was to write an “open letter”, I would include John 13:34-35:

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.“

I am not angry at either Mohler or Giberson, for I empathize with both of their viewpoints. My enemy is within – the dark night of my own soul. I sense that blogs like Biologos are the only hope I have of being able learn to live with or reconcile some of my skeptical thoughts, and for this reason, I’d prefer that Biologos focus its efforts on scientific and theological topics rather than targeting a specific person or denomination. Who is their target audience? I’d like think this audience should be people like me – scientists who have a skeptical bent, scientists that have left the faith because of YEC, and more generally, educating the public that evolution can be compatible with Christianity. I don’t see the effectiveness of the written diatribe between Giberson and Mohler. Rather, for the average Christian that might perceive evolution as an attack, the most effective “apologetic” would be to see evidence of loving Christianity in a scientist at their church who believed in both Christ and evolution.

Prior to reading the Biologos post, I was feeling ambivalent about Christianity. The father of a good friend of my 6 yr old daughter died suddenly this week. You can imagine the thoughts that have been swirling in my mind, and the frustration over my inability to attain a more satisfying faith in the concept of an afterlife. At the same time, I am tempted to abandon this blog, hug my kids and devote my ALL to them, for life can slip away in a fleeting moment. But the answer is not in giving up, but learning to be content with my intellectual doubt and ride out the storm, wherever it may take me.

Looking at Doubt From the Outside (guest post)

2010-08-22T01:16:00.001-04:00

Looking at the Elephant from the Outside (at the zoo)

The following post is the first of a series by my husband, who has the arduous task of being eyewitness to the tumultuous ups and downs of my struggle with doubt.

Looking at Doubt From the Outside
Guest post by Like a Child's Husband

In all honesty, this is my third attempt at writing a blog post. After I wrote the first two, I realized I was basically preaching on how to help someone who is doubting. So let me just describe what this journey has been like from my perspective and then we'll move on from there.

I always knew my wife struggled with questions, particularly since she has a rather analytical mind. In the early years of our relationship, it always seemed that things were relatively "okay". Only now have I realized that things were only repressed, and attention diverted from the hard questions.   During the first 5 years of our marriage, we were both engrossed in studies--I in medical school, she in graduate school in the sciences. Once we had our first child, we faced another year or so of hard work and sleepless nights. However, as our daughter grew older and my wife's mind became less engaged in scientific thinking, the doubts started to insidiously creep up again.   

One thing that did change for the better after we finished school and moved, is that we now had the time to attend one church regularly. We even became members. There, we found a sense of community and belonging. But the questions remained unaddressed. Another nausea-ridden pregnancy, followed by more diapers and sleepless nights, served to squelch the doubt a bit more. Unfortunately, three years after joining said church, certain issues arose that made the doubts flare again, but even stronger this time. We have since left that church and are now wandering, looking for a church at a time in her spiritual journey when it would have been nice to be entrenched in a community that could lend support. As I said, the doubts were never really addressed fully in that church, so maybe this is all for the best anyway.  

So now the journey to seek a genuine faith that withstands the intellectual rigor has ensued. As I see it, there is no longer the distraction of school, church "community", or babies in diapers that don't sleep. It's just her and the proverbial "elephant in the room" (the elephant being the questions that generate the doubt). I'd like to think I'm standing in that room too, but honestly I often feel like I am looking in through a window.   

I personally don't struggle with doubt about historicity and supernatural phenomena in scripture. That's not to say that the apparent injustices in our world (suffering, religious pluralism, etc) have not made me question the motives of a loving God, but the reality is they have not challenged my faith to this degree. So, admittedly it is hard to relate. I've tried the debating angle, but I am not really equipped to tackle her questions...really good questions. Questions that I can't seem to make my mind wrestle with, just as much as she can’t stop her mind from wrestling with them.

A very eye opening experience for me was attending the Biologos conference in June, which was sold as a dialogue on creation, but for us it was a therapy session of sorts. What I mean by that is it was one of only a very few places where my wife could talk and relate to other people that had gone through similar "dark nights of the soul". It was equally useful for me to see how many other people struggled in this manner. I also realized that having the answer, so to speak, is not the "answer". Rather, having the humility to listen and admit this is a tough road, is an even harder thing to do than to debate all of the intellectual queries.

So where do I fit in the midst of this storm? Well, I am still trying to figure that out to some degree. At the same time, I am trying to refine my ability to show love through humility and patience. I suppose there would be no hope for either of us to maintain faith if we both struggled with doubt in this way, so maybe God does know what He is doing, but that still doesn't necessarily make the journey any easier for either one of us. I believe God is using this experience in my wife to cultivate a genuine faith, custom-fit to the needs of her intellect and mind. I think maybe God is trying to use this to teach me to be more understanding, patient, and humble. I'll talk more about how that's going in the next post.

Stuck on the Slippery Slope

2010-08-17T01:50:00.000-04:00

I feel as though I might self-destruct at any moment. The further I examine the validity of Christianity, the weaker my faith becomes. Nonetheless, I refuse to abandon my quest for faith – I will not settle for my current agonistic predisposition. While I should feel peace that God is in control, I have the nagging feeling that He will not persevere because he is a myth -- the evidence against Christianity is mounting for me. Why is it so simple for others to have faith and what is wrong with me? Do I have a mental predisposition to doubt? I'm helpless, stumbling down the slippery slope towards agnosticism, meanwhile pleading with God to lend me a hand. I'm reading "Faith of a Physicist" by Polkinghorne, a book that came highly recommended. If I don't fall asleep while reading it, my faith takes a downhill plunge as I learn about the discrepancies in the historicity of the Gospels. Is this book going to kill my faith? Why did this same book give others hope? What have I overlooked? I grieve at the disappointment I will bring to my family if I remain in this doubtful condition. I'm terrified of the future, because the longer I reside in the "dark night of the soul", the more pronounced my despair becomes, stealing joy from my life. I consider relinquishing Christianity to regain a normal, functioning life, but what would that life look like - an agnostic “me” would bring the same level of anguish to my family that I currently feel myself. I would rather prolong my own sorrow than hurt my loved ones. When I gaze upon my children's cheerful faces, I am keenly aware of the absurdity of my own gloom, when everyone is well and healthy. I’m furious that these precious kids have a mother wasting time pondering the possibility that life on earth is all there is.

What shall I do? I cannot be content with this dreadful doubt, knowing that if Christianity is valid, I might be condemned to eternal suffering because I couldn't muster faith, or if Christianity is false, I'm teaching my children a lie. There is no middle ground, and I fear I've become a "reject" -- unworthy to be "yoked" to other Christians, for Paul warns Christians in 2 Corinthians 6:14-15:

"Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? What accord has Christ with Belial [Satan]? Or what portion does a believer share with an unbeliever?"

Christians often assume agnostics and atheists are stubborn, angry or immoral. In contrast, here I am, feeling unworthy and wretched, desperately wanting to believe, without any temptation to abandon my Christian morality. I'll do anything – pray, repent, and beg for forgiveness. But I cannot force myself to have faith. My optimism is non-existent. I am desperate for God to come to my aid, because I feel utterly abandoned for my lack of intellectual belief and my inability to find a tiny thread of evidence to hold onto. I’m alone with these doubts and am hesitant to share them openly. Christians that don’t struggle with doubt often view people like us as influenced by Satan, who plants seeds of doubts in our brains. Some Christians might consider my science training or belief in evolution as the culprit. But I also know many Christian scientists (such as those I met at the Biologos conference referred to in previous posts) that still manage to juggle evolution and faith in Christ and don’t tumble down this slippery slope as I have done (refer to this post on the Jesus Creed blog). Maybe Satan really is at work in my life, and since sin is detestable to God, I’m all the more guilt-ridden that I can’t seem to extinguish the doubts. I don’t want to face another day with these doubts – I just can’t handle “me” anymore. To quote the lyrics of the Tenth Avenue North song below, "How long must I wait, must I wait for you?"

Addendum: After writing this, I stumbled upon Dr. James Spiegel's blog post on doubt (Part 1 and Part Two). I'm not sure whether to get angry or cry - what an inopportune time. His perspective is that doubt likely results from immorality and disobedience -- a so-called "cognitive consequence of sin". I'm speechless. I wish he could meet me. I don't claim to be perfect, but I definitely not immoral either...the way I live my life still reflects the Southern Baptist upbringing of my childhood. Sure, I'm not praying enough or reading my Bible consistently, but doesn't that characterize us all? A few months before my faith crisis, I was researching starter Bibles for my kindergartener. How disheartening for someone claim that I brought these doubts upon myself due to immorality.

Blogging Through a Crisis: Part 4

2010-08-10T00:32:00.001-04:00

When I am Weak, then I am Strong.

What follows is the final installment of my four part series on Blogging Through a Crisis. In Part 1, I discussed the pendulum of faith and doubt in my life. When I wrote this series a couple weeks ago, the pendulum was swinging towards the faith direction, but as of recently, the pendulum has been heading in the direction of doubt again. Why? Partly because the longer I read about Christianity and am left still struggling, the less Christianity feels valid to me. My doubt also stems from a non-intellectual issue -- continued insecurity about the whole education issue, as my daughter starts in the public school system in two weeks (see post on Part 2 on Insecurity and Doubt). Normally, I'm not easily influenced by peer pressure. But when it comes to my children and the influence of other Christians, I become like Jello. While I think God is directing us towards public schools, because I am in the minority of Christians in this area, I question if my version of God is real. Further, it would be nice to have my children in a "safe" Christian environment, because at the moment, I'm doing a poor job of educating my children about the Bible.

And now, for my more optimistic "other" self from two weeks ago:

Part 4: When I am Weak, then I am Strong (2 Cor 12:10)

I think I've given you an honest assessment of the cycle of faith and doubt in my life, and the alienation it has often caused me. I long for church to be a safe place to question, and for more Christians to be open to these questions, quick to love and slow to judge. I am thankful to the readers of this blog for allowing me to share with you the greatest struggle of my life. You are my church. Through this blog, I finally have a place where I can be honest, both with myself and with others.

I have often questioned the concept of this blog, one that was inspired by the movie Julie and Julia (see my very first post). It seemed like such a silly idea, but I ran with it, assuming I would give up within a few weeks. Initially I intended to write about reading the Bible in a year, but as my doubt became more severe, the blog morphed into deeper reflections of ups and downs in my struggles with faith and doubt. While I’d still like to revisit my original idea, gathering this “background” information is giving me a foundation, akin to searching the literature before performing an experiment. I am learning what layers of Christianity I can peel away, and which must remain (and why).

I am thankful that I didn’t reason myself out of creating this blog. As much as I thought I disliked writing, this blog has been strangely cathartic for me, as it was for Julia in the movie (and yes, I know this sounds corny!). In spite of being knee-deep in doubt, I can step aside, look down objectively at my current struggles, and get a tiny glimpse of God’s handwriting in my own life, through this blog. Maybe that is what God intended when the idea just “popped” in my mind (isn’t that how great scientific theories are born!)*. I am convinced that the brightest moments in life occur during times of weakness. When you are pushed to complete despair, you will abandon the comforts of life to pursue a greater calling, something you are truly passionate about. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God tells Paul, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." God rescues us, not by removing the struggles, but by pushing us to be passionate for Him, and it is in the moments of weakness that we truly experience His greatness.

*Note to self: Look up stories of how scientists come up with scientific breakthroughs and how they might defy the conventional laws of reason or hypothesis formation.

Movie Recommendation: Instead of a book, this time I will recommend a movie - Julie and Julia, of course! I suspect my husband oftentimes feels like Julie’s husband. I look forward to reading what my husband has to say in our next post!

Blogging Through a Crisis: Part 3

2010-08-06T00:34:00.001-04:00

Love one another

Here is the third installment in my series reflecting on Blogging through a Crisis. You can also refer to Part 1 (Pendulum of Faith and Doubt) and Part 2 (Insecurity and Doubt) which have already been posted.

Part 3: Legalism versus Love

While most Christians are aware of the importance of “majoring on the majors” and “minoring in the minors”, secondary issues can still sneak into people’s lives, garnishing more controversy than they deserve. As described in Part 2, I spent unnecessary angst over the secondary issues of theology and children, and neglected what was really bothering me. I became paralyzed by legalism in disguise. Thus, in spite of my intellectual doubts, the actions of humans were what ultimately led me to question God the most - the evidence of Christ in humanity was obscured by legalism and judgment. And this is why Christ admonishes us in John 13:34-35, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.“

In Part 1, I referred to how I usually sense God’s presence the most when I am “still”, when my brain is in pause mode. Love can shine through in these moments if Christians are willing to take this command to heart. Theoretically, my faith should be strong enough to withstand the failure to “love” by Christians, as we all are sinners in need of Christ’s redemption. But obviously, Jesus knew that us mortals, as a result of our imperfection, were going to need some concrete example of His power, and I can’t think of a better way to show evidence of Christ than by loving one another. It is the essence of Christianity.

See also Part one, two, and four.

Book Recommendation: To be further motivated to love, read Francis Chan’s book “Crazy Love”. Ask me in a few months, and I’ll likely recommend Dietrich Bonheoffer’s “Cost of Discipleship” that is on my nightstand.

Blogging Through a Crisis: Part 2

2010-08-02T15:12:00.001-04:00

My next three posts were supposed to be part of a four part series on "Blogging Through a Crisis". In retrospect, I am glad I wrote the whole series last week, because to be honest with you, if I had to write now, my mind would draw a blank. I'm not feeling as optimistic as I sound in the series. Rather, I am tired of battling doubt and disillusioned with Christianity. For different reasons that I've already highlighted elsewhere, I too, feel much like the former atheist - turned Christian author Anne Rice, who claims to have quit being a Christian. While some might offer criticism to Anne for "giving up", I find it comforting that in spite of her issues, she is not renouncing Christ himself.

She writes: "My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic atheist lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me."

I find reassurance in her words because oftentimes (like right now), I want to give up on both Christianity and Christ. Nevertheless, I will continue on with my former plan to post the rest of the series:

Part 2: Insecurity and Doubt

See also Part 1 (The Pendulum of Faith and Doubt)

Doubting is like a double edge sword. While it may put you on a path towards a deeper understanding of Him, it can also alienate you from Him. By doubting God’s existence, I felt uninspired, which lead to insecurity about the opinions I formed about theology, education and parenting, particularly when my desires were contrary to the status quo of my church. If I felt uncomfortable with the Calvinist doctrine of limited atonement, I assumed my disagreement proved I was un-elect anyways. If I disagreed with a certain parenting style, I wondered if I was a failure as a parent. I worried all the time about my children and questioned why God chose me, of all people, to be a parent. My insecurity about my salvation led me to put the opinions of other Christians before those of myself. I felt uncomfortable sharing my thoughts, fearing the judgments of others, and therefore I was constantly belittling myself. Hence, I managed to postpone my faith-crisis, but I lost out on the joys of life in just being “me”. When the time came where I could no longer hide in my shell, the crisis became literally debilitating (remember the blog post about the dark night of the soul when I couldn’t even get out of bed!). To this day, I still worry about my children, and I need to make a conscious effort to redirect myself towards the grace of God and let go of my fear of failure.

By experiencing my very own “dark night of the soul”, I’ve been pressed out of my shell, and left with no choice but to face the questions, not only for myself, but for the glory of God, and eventually, to help others experiencing similar struggles. I often need to remind myself that my doubt is worthy of my attention, because the temptation to give up is ever-present. Life would be simpler if I ignored my questions, stopped reading, and took a break from blogging. Time does not stand still while I work things out – my house doesn’t clean itself and my children require just as much of my time. No one wants to struggle on purpose – we all wish to be happy. But the task I’ve signed on for is significant, for in the words of Polkinghorne,

"the question of the existence of God is the single most important question we face about the nature of reality.”

See also Part one, three and four. Book Recommendation: The book that reminded me to thank God for grace, and be my own person -- Tim Kimmel’s “Grace-based Parenting”

Blogging through a Crisis: Part 1

2010-07-30T16:04:00.001-04:00

Swing = Pendulum

For my next four posts, I will share some thoughts on how blogging has shaped my doubt journey. After this series, I will feature a guest post from my husband to give you a different perspective on my faith crisis. Shortly afterwards, I hope to reflect on the book I’m currently reading by John Polkinghorne entitled Faith of a Physicist. Lastly, I’d like to write about some positive experiences we’ve encountered. If we just focus on the lows of life, we will miss out on the joys, and I want this blog to reflect both the ups and the downs.

Here is Part 1 of 4. I will include some book recommendations after each post.

Part 1: The Pendulum of Faith and Doubt

The more I think about God, the more I question Him. The less I think about Him, the more I sense Him through the world around me. As I feel His presence, my brain takes over again, reflecting on the neurons that triggered my emotional stirring of God’s presence. I wonder if my encounter with God is a reflection of a hard-wired evolutionary need within me to believe in the supernatural. I start to doubt again. As I continue to marvel at the complexity of the human brain, I examine the ability of rational science to give us a satisfactory answer to the meaning of life. I’m left unfulfilled, reminded that there is a dimension to life that we just cannot understand – a vacuum that God can fill. God seems close again, and my doubts diminish. If I have the courage to open my Bible again, my confusion over how to interpret the Bible translates into despair again. At other times, the same Bible can give me a marvelous sense of God’s presence. This is the cycle of doubt that torments me, over and over again. It’s as if I have second dimension to my consciousness, and as I watch my brain and my emotions go to war, I feel helpless, sitting on the sidelines.

My intellectual curiosity presents an interesting conundrum – it is both a gift and nuisance. Although my analytical side may lead me to question God at times, it is part of my identity in Christ, and to ignore my questions would be to neglect His gift. We are to embrace our intellects with delight, but remain humbly aware that oftentimes, we will feel God’s love at its fullest when our mind is still, as the Psalmist states: “Be still, and know that I am God” Psalm 46:10.

See also Part two, three and four.

Book Recommendation: For an expanded look at someone suffering with doubt, read Rachel Held Evan’s “Monkey Town: How a Girl who Knew all the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions” or check out her blog.