I re-read an email from my mom today, and line therein precipitated some religious anxiety in me:

However, God is faithful and I know His truth will prevail.

I wondered rhetorically to her: How do you know that His truth will prevail in my life? Has it prevailed in Jami’s life? Jessica’s? Every believer you know? For that matter, how do I know to what extent God was directly involved in my own recent salvation from the cliffs of doubt? Did He actually do anything? I certainly can’t think of anything obviously supernatural that happened to help bring me back. Was it all just my own? Sure, I am rich in friends, some of whom have miracle accounts, and Carla’s support and uptick in libido sure helped. But how do I thank Him for a role I’m not sure He played? And if He didn’t play that role, what does that mean about Him and His will for our lives? Does He even exist? Wouldn’t be easier to explain the lack of miraculous intervention to save me from doubt by saying He simply doesn’t?

“For You are not a God who takes pleasure in wickedness; No evil dwells with You.”

— Psalm 5:4

I fail to comprehend how a theistic determinist, aka a Calvinist, can read this and say that God always predestines wicked behavior.

I just told Carla: “I evaluate what you’re thinking too quickly. I’m sorry.” She admitted doing the same to me. O Lord, that we be quick to listen and slow to speak.

I like the idea of viewing the whole of life as a gift for which I can be grateful. The problem I see with it is that it’s hard to see it that way without tripping into thinking that You have provided it specifically to me, as if You were specifically more providential in my life than, say, in the life of an impoverished, persecuted Christian in India.

God, if the translators are right, I’m not sure You could have chosen a more potent name in the face of skeptics: I AM is about as pithy and defiant as a name could be.

Lord, help me find a way back to gratitude to You. If you are as distant as I might decide to think You mostly are, I’m not sure on what grounds I thank You for, say, the food before me at dinner.

“I lay down and slept; I wakened again, for the Lord sustains me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people Who have set themselves against me round about.”

— Psalm 3:5-6

Reading through the Psalms is going to provide ample fodder for prayer—and encouragement and peace, I think, especially as I construe all the enemies involved as demons or anxieties or skeptics. Not that I will wish harm upon the skeptics as the psalmists wish about their enemies; but I will, as indicated in the above quotation, not be afraid of them.

“There would be no cults without the use of out-of-context proof-texts.”

—Stephen Crosby

What to make of Jesus’ extreme and embarrassing statements about the efficacy of faithful prayer, such as “All things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive”? There

• “Jesus is speaking hyperbolically.” This seems to me the most likely, or at least the most acceptable, option. Greg Boyd would claim this one.
• “Jesus was speaking literally, but ‘believing’ means something different from what I think it means, perhaps something closer to the ‘just knowing’ I used to get when prompted to pray for people’s headaches to go away.” This is C.S. Lewis’ take on the matter, at least as I remember one of his letters to Malcom on prayer.
• “Jesus didn’t say that.” Liberal Christians would claim this one.

All three options are plausible and don’t require me to abandon my faith in Jesus.

me:

I wanted to write briefly to update you: I have set my face to follow Jesus. But I have to tell you, the uncertainty about Him still undercuts my overall confidence and my prayer life. How do I talk with a still-invisible God of whom I’m unsure? The problem of evil makes me less likely to praise Him, the problem of divine hiddenness makes me less likely to thank Him, and the problem of unanswered prayer makes me less likely to ask of Him.

Moving through life with a foundation I’m unsure of is a novel experience for me. Whatever the benefits of the doubt—and I do intend to read that book—I think I was happier without it.

Why I’m unsure about Him after hearing miracle claims from close friends is a mystery to me. I do know doubt is very social, so I’m going to do what I can to avoid reading material from the dark side. And I have a lot of reading and video-watching to do to shore up my faith. One of the few things I’ve gotten to already is the McHargue article series you sent. I appreciated it, although I still don’t know how he goes about discussing faith and God with his kids.

Thank you again for your support through this.

Love and admiration, Scott

P.S. Also, compared to me (and speaking very myopically), McHargue has a one-up on me that I envy: “I once heard Jesus whisper in my ear. A few hours later, I met God on the beach in one of the most powerful experiences of my life. I understand that this sounds ridiculous to modern ears, but I’m relaying my own experience here. I heard a voice, and then I had a time where I felt like I connected with something beyond physical space and time.” I cannot remember a similar experience in my own life. I’m jealous. I hold out hope for such an experience. Nevertheless, McHargue does lay out a nice place to be that harmonizes it all. He doesn’t answer the Questions, but he still invites me to a nice mindspace.

friend:

Thanks for the update! I was actually just about to write to ask.

So, your status has me thinking of the story of Jacob wrestling the angel, again. After all, he walked with limp the rest of his days. Did he regret his grappling with that shadowy figure? Did he miss the days of “wholeness” before, the unquestioning pursuit of his loves and desires? Or was it a reminder that gave him sustenance and holy pause through the turbulent days ahead? I don’t have a clue—but I suspect that he was buoyed by the fact that he heard from God in the midst of his aching, sleepless night.

And so I hear and agree with your desire to hear Christ “whisper”—and to know that it was Him.

That’s my prayer for both of us, today.

P.S. I hear you regarding doubt being a social thing, though I suspect the opposite is also true—what to do with this? Navigate the waters with humility and grace, I conclude.)I never want to fall in love with my own questions, my own hipster self-awareness. I’m remembered of an old Sixpence song [link lost]—perhaps you know it?

me:

Yes, if this struggle leads to a theophany, it’ll have been worth it. So AMEN. Heck, I’d take a miracle, or even a God-stamped “time where I felt like I connected with something beyond physical space and time.”

And yes, in my own heart, at least, faith is a social as doubt. I wonder how the social allure of faith feels to an atheist. Is it as anxious as that of doubt to a believer?

I agree wholeheartedly about the Questions. I don’t like Questions as part of my identity. I prefer the fruits of the spirit. And in the face of my questions:

• Want a theodicy? Screw that; who knows? The point is: Evil is. So join God in fighting it and sympathizing with and relieving its victims.
• Worried that God is hidden? Live in such a way that you reveal Him.
• God may not answer most prayers in ways that are discernible, let alone miraculous. But that doesn’t mean He doesn’t answer some, even sometimes miraculously. And it doesn’t mean there aren’t other salubrious effects of praying. So pray anyway.Reflecting yesterday on how to raise my kids toward Jesus, and coupled with some knee-jerk thoughts when faced with criticisms of the Lewis trilemma—“Wait, what? People find problems with the Lewis trilemma? I thought that was open-and-shut! Man, this apologetics stuff is doomed”—it occurs to me that so much religious doubt and anxiety might be preempted if we acknowledged up front to our kids, similar to what McHargue advocates, that:
• We might be wrong about our religious beliefs. But it’s still OK to hold them, and to do so very passionately, provided they aren’t motivation for hatred or violence. In fact, for many people, such beliefs are more than OK: they are joyful and vital.
• Other people have looked at virtually the same evidence to the deity of Jesus and come to very different conclusions, often rationally, and sometimes motivated by love, or at least Polonian honesty. While this might challenge our soteriology or our Christology, it doesn’t have to assail our faith in God or even in Jesus. We might be wrong! Whoa. Acknowledging that might be the biggest change in me through all this so far.

/S

How do good things in the ekklesia end up going bad? Often the road to corruption is paved with stones of well-intended pragmatism. Virtue is not always practical, nor profitable. Love is not pragmatic. There is no love column on a profit-loss statement or a balance sheet. Love cannot be analyzed. Love can be entered in to. Doing what is right does not always have an immediate practical outcome of benefit. When a spirit of pragmatism enters a community (especially regarding money) little incremental steps are taken choosing the practical and the profitable over the virtuous and honorable. Those little bricks of making pragmatism our God, pave the highway to corruption. Pragmatism wants to assure that a course of action turns out well for me/mine and ours. Love wants to make sure it turns out well for others, even if it costs me/us.

—Stephen Crosby

Briefly reflecting on Luke Muehlhauser, the “Common Sense Atheist,” and his dedication to preparing for the “intelligence explosion” he fears, it occurs to me that it might be best if I focused my charitable efforts like he does. Now, I won’t be concentrating on defending against the singularity, but I could stand to narrow things down. Currently, it’s Water.org, Young Life, the Pregnancy Resource Clinic, Food for the Hungry, the State College Food Bank, and Clearwater Conservancy we donate to. I like all those organizations. But if I want to make a difference, perhaps I need to get behind one in particular.

But where I want to make a difference is interpersonally. If I’m going to change the world, I want to change it through friendship. The problems I’m solving? Well, I imagine many might be solved this way, at least for the people I’m interpersonal-ing. But first among them is loneliness.

Reflecting on my knee-jerk thoughts when faced with criticisms of the Lewis trilemma—“Wait, what? People find problems with the Lewis trilemma? I thought that was open-and-shut! Man, this apologetics stuff is doomed.”—it occurs to me that so much religious doubt and anxiety might be preempted if we acknowledged up front that:

• We might be wrong about our religious beliefs. But it’s still OK to hold them, and to do so very passionately, provided they aren’t motivation for hatred or violence. In fact, for many people, it’s more than OK: it’s joyful and vital.
• Other people have looked at virtually the same evidence to the deity of Jesus and come to very different conclusions, often rationally, and sometimes motivated by love, or at least Polonian honesty. While this might challenge our soteriology or our Christology, it doesn’t have to assail our faith in God or even in Jesus.

I have journaled enough today. So briefly, the most important thing that happened today is that I have regained some footing in my soul. Spending my DiamondBack vacation time to expose myself to the writings of Mike McHargue, Gary Habermas, Michael Licona, Dale Allison via the Internet has helped me regain the company of the thoughtful-but-still-Christian. Faith and doubt are very social.

Again, I remind myself: Exposing myself to skeptical writings from the other side is not healthy for me in any way at this time in my life.

“For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life” (Galatians 6:8).

I think this applies only partially to earthly life. I think Paul is referring to the afterlife.

I had asked You last night, God, for an account of the Cross that makes it good news to me, not just to ancient Jews who were covenantally bound to blood sacrifice for atonement. And here is an answer: You showed that the afterlife is real.

friend:

you entered my thoughts this morning, and I thought I would encourage you. I was listening to the radio and working out your salvation was mentioned (completely incorrectly as I currently see it), so I asked God what was up with you. I received back that you were in a drawing in period. So I asked what that means and what needs to be done. I got back that you need to relax into the uncomfortableness (unanswered questions, anxiety) and ride it out. That sounds very uncaring since “how do you do that?”. I got the picture of a woman in labor. She has these uncomfortable contractions and seemingly nothing is happening, but that baby is moving. So, relax into you contractions, deal with them the best you can. Your baby is coming on its (God’s) schedule.

me:

You spark hope and give me a strategy. Thank you. My natural tendency is not to relax in the face of uncertainty, but to bear down. In this stage, I can see easily the advantages of the latter.

And thank you for the benediction.

To fight off this crippling doubt, I should become parochial in my thinking, for nothing in my actual social sphere seriously challenges my faith. Some friends’ newborn fatal birth defects don’t challenge my faith. My other friend’s ectopic pregnancy and brush with death don’t bother me. It’s arguments, not actual experiences, that challenge my faith. And for the actual experiences, some combination of Greg Boyd’s and Richard Beck’s theodicies gets the job done for me.

I guess the third pair of friends’ divorce bothered me, but all it really did was show that human will and defects can override the grace of God. A sobering thought, for sure, but not one to slow my faith down too much.

“It’s remarkable that in all of his writings Paul’s prayers for his friends contain no appeals for changes in their circumstances.”

—Tim Keller

Father, I’m telling You:

• The problem of evil will make me less likely to praise You.
• The problem of divine hiddenness will make me less likely to thank You.
• The problem of unanswered prayer will make me less likely to ask of You.

That will leave You and me with lament as my only mode of prayer. Seems like a impoverished relationship to me.

Stories of other people’s miracles seem able to take me only so far. A direct encounter with You myself would go a long way.

I remind myself of two things that will help me set the problem of evil down:

1. Theodicy is much easier when death isn’t taken as final and when what comes after it is believed to be very good. Both those things are part of Christian belief, especially if you’re at least at the inclusivist point on the soteriological spectrum, like I currently am. (This does leave me curious to pick back up my project about what the Bible actually says about who receives eternal life.)

2. Also, I must admit that the problem of evil will, in all likelihood, remain unresolved during this lifetime. We are, after all, arguing about an invisible deity. Nevertheless, as tempting as it may be, trading my faith for a facile resolution to this and the other two related problems (divine hiddenness and unanswered prayer) would be foolish.

If I’m not careful, I’m going to petrify a habit of mine that has developed in the past few weeks and become such a temptation as to displace the role seeking online infotainment or titillation has at times played in my life: reading theological articles on the Internet during the workday. If I allow this habit to solidify, it will have two detrimental effects: I will lose my job, and I will lose my faith.

“For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything, but faith working through love” (Galatians 5:6). That’s the only faith worth having. And it’s the only faith I can have through some of this terrifically doubtful season. Specific religious practice is questionable. Faith expressed in love is not.

Note to self: For as helpful as Richard Beck can be, I should read neither him nor his commenters before bed.

The most important thing to happen to me today is that I asked the church to pray for me that my anxiety that lingers and pops up unbidden (for instance, upon looking at an old photograph in the CD insert for Down the Old Plank Road, I felt anxious that the people in the photograph weren’t alive any more), that You, God would take it away. Most memorable among the prayers was that Dave asked you to “talk loud.”

Oh, and I want to watch all ninety episodes of Curious George with the kids via Greta’s Netflix account. And I won a few golf passes by winning the donut-on-a-string contest at Millbrook Marsh’s annual Historic Harvest Festival.