faith
i gotta have it
The anniversary of leaving the church slipped by me this year.
I had so much else going on that it barely registered until I looked up and realized it was already July. I am reflecting on my journey over the past few years and where it has brought me. It’s sort of a bummer, but right now I feel just as clueless about what I’m doing as I was the day I finally walked away from an institution that was clearly done with me.
I have questioned how hard I worked to stay somewhere I wasn’t wanted. It’s a pattern that doesn’t feel great. I have done this with parents, partners, and institutions. Maybe, I think, next time I could try walking away a little sooner. But giving up is really hard. I have faith, it seems, in my unproven ability to change things beyond my control.
There are still days when I miss church, for sure. I miss the rhythm of the liturgical year. I miss the broad variety of humans coming together in faith or in the hope of finding faith. I miss preaching. I miss the sacraments. I miss our common and bizarrely niche language. I miss talking about theology and how it intersects with our daily lives. I miss belonging. I miss my own ease in the land of faith.
One of the comforts I’ve found is the realization that the God I once believed in would still love me just as much as she always did. The God I used to believe in was wildly generous and unbearably kind. She was smitten by the world she had created and then incarnated herself into. The God I used to profess with ease was deeply in love with each of us. With me. With you.
That God never turned her back on me, and it’s that faith that allows me to engage in spiritual direction. It is a gift to sit with folks who are also making their stumbling way through questions of how we navigate the fullness of who we are.
Even though I am no longer in the early distress of losing my ordination, I know I am not done. If God is love, then surely there is room for uncertainty, for wandering, for changing one’s mind. There is room for trying to become more honest. I have not yet finished becomeing who I am going to be.
And so, on this tardy anniversary of losing my ordination, I ask myself:
What do I have faith in?
I still have faith that Love is the ultimate truth of the universe.
I have faith that curiosity is a holy virtue.
I have faith that every single person holds deep and complicated stories that we can’t guess by looking, so we should probably default to kindness.
I have faith that Love is with us and on our side, cheering us on when we climb and holding us tenderly after we fall.
I still have faith that there is nowhere outside the reach of Love’s grace.
And so, with my most holy curiosity, I wonder
My loves and my dear ones,
What do you have faith in?
What do you know for certain, even when the world looks very different?
What does your trust whisper to you, curled up under your ribs in the long dark night?
Do you have more or less faith than you used to?
If so, do you have any clues about where it comes from or where it goes?
And please, my loves,
please my dear ones,
have faith at least in this,
You are loved beyond measure and beyond reason
You are precious.
I have enough faith for all of us on that one.
I lean on Paul Tillich’s definition of God as one’s “object of ultimate concern “ because it stresses the act of choosing one’s god, rather than placing bets on what is true or not true about God (something above anyone’s pay grade). So when I hear “I have faith in…” I reframe it as “I choose to put my trust in…” This avoids debates about whether or not my object of ultimate concern exists apart from me and grounds me rather in my existential experience of the divine and my choice. It may well be that the universe is an unfeeling uncaring soup of random shit, but from where I stand, I choose to live with a trust in love as the ultimate concern for my life. Perhaps a pendantic distinction but it helps me avoid turning God into a static noun that exists independently from my experience.
It is so beautiful to see your love for Jesus and how you are continuing your faith! At the same time, I am truly sorry for the bad experiences you’ve had with the church. It makes complete sense why you felt the need to leave that environment, and I can totally understand because that is exactly where I used to be before I found the living reality of His word.
While the traditional church structure may have failed you, God is doing something completely new right now. As it says in Isaiah 43:19, "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." There is truly only one place where His true work is unfolding today.
Throughout history, God has always operated through prophetic fulfillment. He spoke everything before it happened so that when it finally takes place, we can see it and truly believe. This aligns perfectly with John 14:29: "I have told you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe." He is the same God yesterday, today, and always (Hebrews 13:8), and He is resolving everything right now.
Just as in the days of old, God chooses a specific path and message for His people. Revelation speaks clearly about the promises given to the one who overcomes. In Revelation 2:17, it says, "To the one who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it."
Because Revelation was written in parables and figurative language, we must have the specific blueprint to unlock the virtual and physical reality of what God is fulfilling today.
I would love to help you study this and walk into this next chapter with you. I completely relate to where you’ve been, and I'd love to share the blueprint that changed everything for me. Let me know if you'd be open to looking into it together!