I don’t know about you, but I have a faith problem. My faith problem is simply that I often lose my faith. It’s not a matter of maintaining appearances–I can do that awesomely; after all, I am a pastor’s son. I can look happy and spirit-filled at the drop of a hat.
No, this is far deeper, raw and honest; it’s a place where I find myself all too often.
Maybe it’s the books I read. People have said stuff to me like, “Don’t read (insert name here)’s books. Your faith can’t last if you expose yourself to such dangerous ideas.” Maybe its the blogs I visit and the topics they discuss like post-evangelicalism, post-modernism, post-Darwinian thought, post-Christian, post-colonialism, etc. Maybe its the stuff I put in my ears–words that tell me I need to think freely, have an open mind, be more inclusive, love more/hate less. . . .
Regardless, apart from the fact that there are certainly elements of danger every time I open my mind to entertain a new thought, I would say the greater danger remains in trying to maintain a status quo, an attachment to a system that just doesn’t work and is losing its credibility more each day. I can’t buy into the Evangelical culture any more than I can buy into consumerism, wanton capitalism, or corporate warmongering.
Ideals aside, it’s still Good Friday (and I digress).
Today we remember the cross, the sacrifice of Jesus, the rigged execution of the God-man who came to be revered as Lord, King and Saviour.
It is a dark day and, perhaps, “Good” Friday is too sanitised a version of this story. This particular day was horrible, terrible, dark, depressing. It was a time of pain, of loss, of an end to a promise. . . .
The disciples fled.
The women wept.
The soldiers mocked.
The earth kept spinning into night and the one who promised it all had died.
God had left the building.
There was no more promise, no more hope, no more kingdom.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living that day.
Sometimes my faith gives way to anger, pain, regret. Too often God is distant, silent, unknowing and uncaring. This is my own personal Good Friday . . . or Monday, or Thursday, or Sunday. . . .
How about you?
(To be continued)