I'm not sure how we got here - where tons of people including myself are commenting on one person's faith - someone we don't know personally and probably never will.
Ten years ago your name wouldn’t have popped up all over social media, most people would have no idea where you are on your faith journey, and I still wouldn’t know your name.
But here we are and I do know your name and I do know the tiniest, most miniscule snippet of your journey and I find myself sitting here with thoughts about it.
Anyway, I’m Stevie and I’m really into Jesus. I hope my life is - at least I’m attempting to make it – all about surrender to Him. So that’s the tiniest, most miniscule snippet of where I am in my journey.
Here’s the thing I wanted to say – I read a quote from you about how you are losing your faith and I related with every single word. I’ve wrestled and will continue to wrestle with these things too. I hear you.
And I love how your words come across as honest –I think we exist in the middle of a generation of people longing to be honest about where they are right now and how they are feeling and where they are struggling, but who also feel an intense pressure to cultivate a certain image, to fit into a mold. It’s especially prominent and, I think, especially damaging among Jesus followers.
Your words are joining a symphony of people saying “I’m not going to hide and pretend and fake.” I think you’re going to inspire others to do the same and this is exciting and encouraging to me. It isn’t scary or sad to me that someone is being honest about their doubt.
If God is real, He isn’t afraid of your doubt, or mine. He isn’t running from our questions. He isn’t devoid of answers, and He isn’t mad at us, or avoiding us, when we ask. If God is real, He is so far beyond our ability to comprehend that it’s kind of insane for me to think I would ever run out of questions about Him.
A God I can wrap my brain around isn’t worthy of worship.
There are a billion things I find strange about 2000's Christian culture in the wealthy West, but you hit on a big point of frustration for me. There isn’t much grey space.
Inside the organized church, it feels like we’re either in or out, like we are coloring inside the lines or we need to have our crayons taken away, like we are on board or thrown overboard, like we either say the right words or we better keep our traps shut. At least that is how it feels.
I imagine the pressure to stay “in” is even more intense from prominent positions in Christian organizations or when your paycheck is tied to your faith. So thank you. Thank you for being honest about where you are right now. It’s brave. Thank you for not pretending. Thank you for not faking it. Thank you.
If anything, and I know it isn’t worth much coming from a total stranger, your words sound to me like someone who just broke free of some chains he needed cut. We can’t find truth when we’re chained up with hiding or faking. And sometimes we can’t be open about where we are AND be accepted in a certain space.
I think you're on a crazy journey and I think it’s going to lead you right to the feet of Jesus eventually. I think this because you said you wanted to find genuine truth. And if you really go after it - if you really chase after genuine truth -you'll find it. You'll find Him.
A few years ago, I remember being a little devastated when multiple Christian leaders tweeted “Goodbye [person who is doubting/leaving faith/changing theology].” I didn’t like it. I don’t know if anyone is doing that to you on Twitter because I don’t hang out there much – I hope they aren’t – but I wish the instinct was to say something like “Hey [person who is doubting/leaving faith/changing theology], I see you, I hear you, I’m for you.”
So I guess that’s what I’m trying to say to you and anyone else feeling similarly. I believe what I believe. I believe in Jesus and I believe my whole life belongs to Him and I believe I will only ever be satisfied and free when my palms are open and I’m living a life surrendered to Him. AND I see you, AND I hear you, AND I’m for you.
I’m scooting over at the table where you’re still welcome, where you’re still seen, where you’re still loved.