My crisis of faith began around five years ago. Like many people, it was precipitated by an unexpected life crisis. It left me questioning virtually everything that I had once held true.
When I thought about the triggers that plunged me into the pool of deconstruction, there were seven things that really left my faith flailing in the water. But, I don’t think these things are unique to my journey. There is every chance that if you have, or are having your own crisis of faith, that you are mulling over many of the same ideas.
Perhaps this will help you — at the very least — by letting you know that you’re not alone. It is normal and even healthy to take down off the shelf every idea and belief that you’ve ever been taught and break it all down into tiny pieces, then test each piece for its truthfulness and usefulness. At the end of the day, when you put it all back together, you’ll have something much more robust and beautifully forged in the fire of struggle.
Here are the seven things that can trigger a crisis of faith:
The Problem of Suffering
Suffering is usually the wake-up call that shakes us from the slumber of our neatly ordered universe. It is easy to believe all of the things that you have been taught growing up in the church — like the fact that God is in control, and that all things work together for your good, and that God protects his children —
Until something goes wrong.
A family member or a friend suddenly and tragically dies, you lose your job, your marriage falls apart, a natural disaster destroys everything you have worked for, your health fails.
At that moment, all of the simple and trite explanations that were offered to you in the church are inadequate: “Just have more faith, God is testing you, this is a spiritual war we’re in, I’ll pray for you!”
When your world comes crashing down and you throw your hands in the air and look to the heavens and shout the question, “Why? Why is this happening to me!” None of the theological arguments or doctrines will be of any comfort to you. So then what?
At the end of the day, everyone has to wrestle with the question: “If God is so good, then why do bad things happen?” And it’s a fair question, but it’s not a problem that’s exclusive to Christianity. Every worldview has to answer the question: The Buddhist, the Hindu, the Muslim, and even the Atheist are confronted with the same dilemma. Why do bad things happen? And it feels like every answer leads to the pain of more questions.
Perhaps the best and most honest answer to the question of why God allows suffering is, “I don’t know.” But let’s not pretend that anyone else knows, either! Perhaps Christians would be well-served by offering this instead of their trite, simplistic, and stupid theological explanations for suffering.
Or, even better, instead of trying to provide answers to unanswerable questions, they follow the example of Christ. Christ came not to give answers but to give himself — to fully invest and participate in what it means to be human with all its mess, and struggle, and pain. He walked next to the broken-hearted and didn’t offer any glib explanation. Rather, he offered himself.
Biblical Literalism
Growing up in the church, I was taught that the Bible was the inerrant, infallible, perfect word of God. This was presented as a fact and enshrined the church’s ‘Statement of Faith’ so that the matter was not up for discussion. If you didn’t like it, too bad.
The problem is, at some point, you will read the Bible and come across something that will stop you dead in your tracks — like the story of Jephthah, a man who vowed to sacrifice to God the first thing that he came across if God would help him win a military victory. Sure enough, Jephthah wins his fight, but unfortunately for him, his one and only child is the first to come out to greet him. So, true to his word, he kills his own daughter — apparently to honor God.
What the heck?
If that doesn’t cause you to say, “Wait a second! That doesn’t sound right!” then I don’t know what would. You are then forced to confront the idea that maybe — just maybe — the Bible isn’t completely perfect. Maybe it represents a perspective rather than a fact. Every point of view, after all, is a view from a point.
According to Wil Gafney, associate professor of Hebrew and Old Testament at The Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, “Literal readings of Biblical texts can also lead to fraudulent readings, dogmatic tenacity to ahistorical or unscientific claims, and the loss of credibility for those who insist on nonsensical interpretations.”
In other words, when it comes to reading the Bible, you ought to take a more nuanced approach than merely accepting everything you read as fact, or else you’ll end up looking a little bit silly.
Besides this, a lot of what is written in the Bible is not actually meant to be taken literally but literarily instead. Some of it is poetic. Some of it is symbolism. Some of it is hyperbole. You’ll find irony, exaggeration, puns, riddles, proverbs, and quotes in and out of context in the Bible. What is more, I reckon if you were to sit and listen to Jesus live with an ancient Palestinian worldview, you may well have found him hilarious because he definitely used sarcasm and humor as well.
No, you don’t have to believe that a whale literally swallowed Jonah because even if that didn’t happen, the message is not lost. Were Adam and Eve real people? Well, how could we possibly know that since they were supposedly the only ones around to see it? And does it really matter? Actually, no.
It turns out the essence of the Adam and Eve story is not lost if, it turned out, that Adam and Eve were mythical characters.
Why?
Because the point of the story of Adam and Eve is less about introducing two historical figures than it is about archetypally representing the problem of the human condition. We are supposed to find ourselves in Adam and Eve.
That’s the thing with the Bible. It is not supposed to be read as a book of history, but rather, a book of theology, revealing what we are like and what God is like. So, I will happily call the Bible inspired, sacred, authoritative, and useful, but I can’t call it faultless because, well… it was written by humans.
Now here’s the most excellent thing. When you stop taking the Bible literally, it becomes a lot more useful for understanding God and yourself!
Photo by Kiwihug on Unsplash
Penal Substitutionary Atonement
If you ask the average Christian why Jesus had to die on a cross, you will likely be told that something like this: humans are sinful, and God must punish sinners by venting his wrath, but thankfully, because he loves us, Jesus went to the cross and was murdered in our place to pay our debt, so that God can forgive our sins and we can go to heaven when we die.
This idea of how the cross works is called the “Penal Substitutionary Atonement Theory.” Some Christians even go so far as to call this theory ‘The Gospel’ (completely ignoring the fact that Jesus never even preached it explicitly). This theory will either seem like the most obvious and beautiful of facts or the most thoroughly repulsive notion depending on how you were raised. Yes, many people find the idea that a loving father would willingly murder his own child an extremely difficult thing to accept.
But if that doesn’t make you unsettled, perhaps the realization that the only reason this father doesn’t kill you is that he murdered his child instead will. It is a shocking thing to consider that, for many, atheism is actually a Godly reaction to the violent portrayal of the God of Penal Substitutionary Atonement Theory.
In the same way, at some point, many who are going through a faith crisis will stumble on this point. Penal Substitutionary Atonement does seem to paint a picture of God as a violent, vindictive, and unforgiving God who operates in direct contrast to the character and nature of Jesus Christ.
And we are left with the question: If God is God and God can do anything, then why couldn’t God forgive without having to kill someone, let alone his own son? Fortunately, Penal Substitutionary Atonement is not the only idea out there about the purpose of the cross. In fact, it was not even a prominent idea for most of human history — it’s actually a fairly recent theological development.
Sure, there was definitely purpose and intent in the death of Jesus Christ. Feel free to explore it without having the burden of the blood of Jesus on your hands.
The problem of Hell
The concept of heaven and hell is drummed into you from a very young age in the church, to the point where it seems like the entire point of Christianity is to do what you need to do to avoid hell and get to heaven.
At some point, you will meet people outside of the church bubble who are not believers, but they sure do seem to live and act like Jesus (maybe even more so than the people in the church), and you are left with a troubling question: Why would God send this person to Hell?
I could imagine if you were God, you might feel okay about sending a person to Hell if they had committed certain atrocities that you deem unforgivable — Hitler, for example. But, would you send people to Hell if they simply didn’t believe in you? Personally, I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I would consider a person worthy of being tormented in the fires of hell for all of eternity simply because they did not believe in me.
Could you?
The way I see it, if God is real — as I believe he is — then I suppose, once we die, none of us will have a choice about whether or not we believe in him or not, anyway.
I could imagine God saying, “Surprise! I was here all along!” but for some reason, I can’t imagine God saying, “You should have believed in me when you couldn’t see me! Now that you can see me, I’m sending you to hell for all eternity!”
The hypocrisy
The biggest evidence that I have that Christianity is a complete sham is that the most unloving, intolerant, vindictive, and mean-spirited people I have ever known are also apparently spirit-filled born-again Christians. Christ doesn’t seem to make them more loving, nice, or kind.
It simply doesn’t compute.
People say that the church is full of hypocrites, but I actually think that’s quite an unfair assessment. Rather, I think the whole world is full of hypocrites. I’m a hypocrite! I don’t deny it! I say this because most people fail to live up to the standards they set for themselves — let alone the ones they impose on others. We don’t do what we know we ought. Therefore, I think the problem is not that the church is full of hypocrites, but that the church is full of hypocrites who fail to see and own their hypocrisy. Rather than being humble, many Christians are self-congratulatory for having apparently discovered ‘the truth.’
And then there is the problem of the church itself — the system, that is. Having been heavily involved in the internal workings of the church system, I can assure you that in many churches, the kind of power struggles, politicking, posturing, maneuvering, and bald-faced manipulation going on, would rival the most dysfunctional secular organizations in the world. This is supposed to be an organization that represents Christ on earth.
My definition of church is much broader now than when I was a young Christian. I now understand that the church is the body of believers, not the system, the building, or the clergy. And while some of the nastiest people I’ve ever known also self-report as being Christians, some of the most wonderful people I know also call themselves Christians. So, I suppose the proof is in the pudding, so to speak.
Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash
The church, gender, and sexuality
I remember the very last time I attended a board meeting at my conservative, evangelical church. The group — all men, of course — had gathered, and a decision needed to be made that required some legal advice.
“What a pity we don’t have any lawyers who come to our church that we can refer to for this matter,” Said one of the board members.
“My wife is a lawyer,” I spoke up.
“True,” replied the board member, “What a shame she is the wrong gender.”
And the rest of the men chuckled knowingly.
I tell this story often when I am explaining why I walked away from the church. I simply could not stomach the idea that my wife and daughters would be subject to a system where they would be considered second-class citizens. I’m sure not every church is like this. Still, I have seen enough to know that churches that ascribe greater value to the authority of men are not safe places for women — spiritually, emotionally, and sexually.
The idea that God would somehow impute the same intrinsic value to both genders but then establish and ordain a system where one gender has an apparent ontological need to be led decided for, directed by, and subject to the other is thoroughly laughable. Only men would be capable of creating such a system — a power and control ideology that amounts to nothing more than sexism.
It creates a context for the objectification, devaluing, and even abuse of women by teaching them the lie that God desires them to take the most vulnerable position in their relationships with men. I cannot accept this!
Then there is the theological minefield known as purity culture — a subculture of evangelical Christianity that peaked in the 1990s — with young people pledging to abstain from sex until marriage. The primary tools that the church used to drive home this message of abstinence were fear, guilt and shame.
Purity culture pushes myths about premarital sex and the guaranteed benefits of abstinence until marriage. Proponents promise Christian young people that if they wait just a little longer, then their dreams will come true — complete with amazing wedding night sex and lifelong sexual and marital bliss.
The problem is, a whole lifetime of messaging about the dangers and wickedness of sex is unlikely to be undone in the act of marriage, and feelings of shame can continue for years. It might be a noble message, but the church — as a general rule — has stuffed up its messaging on gender, sex, and sexuality.
Progressive values vs. Christian morality
I want to be a Christian, but I am also fully accepting of the LGBTIQ+ community, which creates a conflict. I cannot be around people who bash cultural, sexual, and religious minorities, speaking about them with disdain or, worse, outright disgust.
Christianity’s current social and cultural narrative is that of a hegemonic, oppressive, and homogenous white boys’ club. The Church’s attitude towards the LGBTIQ+ community, its climate change denial, its systematic sexism, its political persuasions, its misogyny, and misuse of power, among other things, has raised the bar for belief so high that it might as well be an Olympic sport.
A tension exists between Christians who want to be responsible global citizens while still adhering to their Christian faith. It’s almost as if, when you walk into church, you need to check your moral sensibilities and intellect at the door too. So, it is both easier — and more honest — not to grace the pews of the church if it means I have to be silent about the disconnect I feel between the love of Christ and the way that Christ’s people treat those who are different to them.
Fortunately, I have now found Christian communities that are accepting of difference in all its glorious expressions.
. . .
Can you have faith after doubt?
I have wrestled long and hard with every one of these seven things, and yet, I still call myself a Christian. Yes, a faith crisis doesn’t have to be terminal. And while I do not claim to have it all worked out, and I continue to struggle through the various questions that I have, there is one thing that I have decided is true:
Doubt is not the enemy of faith.
Think of doubt as the resistance that builds your faith muscles. The heavier the weight of that doubt, the greater the potential to strengthen your faith.
Embrace the struggle!
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This post was previously published on Backyard Church.
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