How can YOU be a Christian? This doubter’s profession of faith.

Jason asked me a few days ago how I would feel if Gryffin or Isaiah did not one day share our faith; how I would feel if they were compelled by some other religious faith or perhaps no faith at all.  I hemmed and hawed and said I wasn’t sure and that mostly I want them to be content and at ease with whatever they choose, to be themselves first and foremost, to hopefully share the outpourings of our faith if not the tenets themselves when Jason broke into my stream of consciousness and said simply, “I think I would be devastated.”

“Yes,” I said quietly.  “Yes.  Me too.”

How can you be a Christian?

My uncle John was visiting us a couple years ago when he asked me why I am a Christian.  He asked Jason, too, on that same trip.  Keeps us on our toes, that one!  But it’s a good question and worth revisiting, I think.  Especially considering that Jason and I clearly hope to pass this faith on to Isaiah and Gryffin.

When my uncle asked the question, it was one of incredulity and wonder, along the lines of, “Nancy, you are a smart woman and you know how to use your brain.  How on earth can you persist in being a Christian.”   Sort of a compliment and sort of not, right?  But he genuinely wanted to know.  And you know what?  Nobody had ever asked me before.  I had never had to give account for why I believe what I believe.  It was simultaneously hard and easy to answer.

Hard because there are so many aspects of the Christian faith that don’t make any sense to me.  So many things that make me wonder what I could possibly be thinking, throwing my lot in with this crowd.   The Old Testament is full of vengeance and violence.  God seems cruel at times, loving at others.  Christians themselves seem cruel at times and loving at others.   Not to mention the virgin birth and the coming back to life and sometimes it all just feels so far flung and ridiculous.  I know that.

The Older I Get the Less I Know

In high school, my faith came easily and freely and I felt so certain that I had all the answers.  But the older I get, the less sure I feel and I have so many more questions than answers these days.   It’s scary sometimes, this not having all the answers.  I felt much more secure when I thought I knew it all.

But the easy part of the answer is that I am still compelled by Jesus; the life of Jesus and all his crazy, radical, nonsensical antics.  The way he treated the poor, the way he treated women, orphans, widows and outcasts; the way he showed compassion and kindness in the most unexpected of places, the way he healed people and fed people and ate with people.

So when I feel the deep seeds of doubt taking root in my heart and I feel lost and unsure of what to do with all of my questions and concerns and confusion, I’ve decided to take the advice of Glennon Doyle Melton in her brilliant essay on Christians and homosexuality, when she says,

…I decided that if a certain scripture turns our judgment outward instead of inward, if it requires us to worry about changing others instead of ourselves, if it doesn’t help us become better lovers of God and life and others, if it distracts us from what we are supposed to be doing down here—finding God in everyone, feeding hungry people, comforting the sick and the sad, giving whatever we have to give, and laying down our lives for our friends—then we assume we don’t understand it yet, and we get back to what we do understand.

And what I do understand is this.  Jesus told us to, “love God with all your heart, mind and soul, and love others as yourself.”  Do this, he said, and you will live.

When I consider my faith, it sometimes feels like I am just barely holding on.  Sometimes I worry that it will fall away all together.  But year after year I somehow persist, spurred on by the fascinating life of Jesus and the hope against all hope that one day all things will be made new.

The Story of the Blind Man

One of my favorite stories is the one of the blind man in John 9.  He was born blind and Jesus restores his sight but people don’t know what to make of it.  There is confusion all around and the formerly blind man is questioned twice by the religious authorities.  They pester him and regale him with questions about who healed his eyes and what sort of person Jesus was and the blind man simply replies,

I don’t know whether he’s a sinner.  But here’s what I do know:
I was blind and now I see.

Isn’t that all he needs to know?  Who cares about the rest when he can see?

When I am thinking about myself and my own interests, when I am looking out for number one, when I’m unkind or uncharitable to my children or to Jason, when I’m attempting to make myself look good by making someone else look bad, when I’m unwilling to give up my spare time to lend a hand to a neighbor in need, when I avoid talking with someone who needs my ear, I am like a blind man walking in the shadows and all the world seems a dark, dark place.  But when I allow myself to be transformed by those words, “love others as yourself,” and find myself reborn within them, it’s as though the scales fall away and I can see what once was obscured by darkness and fear and sadness.

Do the Right Thing

I remember asking my dad once if he thought it was more important to believe the right thing or to do the right thing.  And believe me, my dad has some strong beliefs.  But he answered without hesitation; DO the right thing, Nance.  I’m know I’ve got all sorts of beliefs that are off-the-mark and my theology continues to need honing and sharpening and a community of people willing to walk the road with me lest I wander too far off course.  And while my beliefs influence my actions, they ultimately pale in comparison.  So I’d like to teach Gryffin and Isaiah to do the right thing.  Even if my faith itself is wavering and waffling on the winds of doubt, even if I don’t understand it all, even if I’m wondering if Jesus really was “born of a virgin,” and I’m trying to figure out how exactly to love God with all my heart, mind, and soul, I want to teach them to love others more than they love themselves.  In short, to live like Jesus lived so that they too can be reborn and we can say together with the blind man, “we were blind, but now we see.”