I just don’t know if I believe anymore—and I don’t know what to do about it.
I hear words like these every single day from people from every corner of the planet, from every strand of the Christian tradition, and every segment of society. They are once-religious people who, for any number of reasons, are now finding the very ground of faith eroding beneath their feet, and they are panicking.
And this fear is understandable. After all, a faith shift is terrifying stuff to endure. It’s one thing to question the institutional Church or to poke holes in the religious systems we’ve put in place, or even to critique the Bible and how we interpret it. Those are all manageable crises.
We can endure such things and still hold a steady confidence in the belief that God is and that God is good. Even if on some days, that is all that remains of our fragile faith narrative, it can be enough.
But what do you do when with all the sleepless wrestling and the furrowed-browed prayers and the ceaseless questions and the best-intended efforts, even that seems out of reach? What happens when the very reality of God (or of a God who is good) seems too much for you to claim ownership of? How do you keep going while in the middle of a full-blown spiritual collapse?
It often isn’t a matter of just being more determined or more “religious”. Most of the time, people have reached these desperate moments despite continually reading the Bible and praying and volunteering and attending church services, and trying to believe. They haven’t refrained from those disciplines. They often are as devout and engaged as ever, only these pursuits no longer yield the clarity and confidence and comfort they once did.
Many people come to me in that barren spiritual dryness, and they almost always carry the crushing guilt of failure. They are grieving deeply, feeling helpless to get back what they’ve lost, and angry at themselves for not being faithful enough to conjure up a belief that used to come as a simple given. (And often they’re pretty ticked off at God, too.)
If you’re in that place right now, I won’t pretend there’s any easy way out or a simple path back to faith. I can’t even promise that you’ll ever find your way back, at least not to what you used to call belief. It may be a very different experience in the future.
So what can you do right now?
It might be to pray or read the Bible or find a new church, but likely it’s something else entirely.
Maybe it’s about asking yourself what you still know to be true; about the goodness of people, about the things that matter to you, about the gifts you’ve been given, about the kind of person you want to be in the world.
It could be that today it’s just about what’s right in front of you: about what you can see and hear and touch and smell and taste. Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to experience all of the things that you can know, and simply receive them with gratitude: a delicious meal, the evening breeze, some music that moves you, the laughter of your best friend, the intimacy of a relationship, the smell of your child’s head as you hug them. Those measurable and tangible things can form a working theology of beauty, awe, and gratitude that don’t need to be called anything else.
Perhaps just accepting these pure and measurable gifts of being alive and presently cherishing them is all the faith you are able to have right now, and that’s OK. Maybe that’s as close to proof of the Divine as you can consent to in these moments.
To simply live and to find appreciation in the living is itself a spiritual pursuit; it is a holy thing. And as you do this, you may find that this contentment is the straighter pathway back to what you’ve lost. It may clear the road to God that has been cluttered by sadness, anger, doubt, and yes, even religion.
But don’t lay that expectation on yourself right now, because that would only turn this all into a means to an end, a result to achieve, another religious exercise to evaluate. For now, just receive the goodness and pleasures of this day and allow them to speak to and surprise you. You may find there the beginning of a new season of faith.
Don’t worry about what anyone else says. You’re the one walking this road, and you understand it in ways they never will.
And above all, don’t worry about God. If God is indeed God, then God is big enough to handle your doubts and uncertainty and knows exactly what you’re going through and why belief is such a struggle right now.
You may have indeed lost your faith, or you may have just lost your way a bit. Either way, this might be a good time to breathe, look around, and find joy in what is beside and around you as you travel.
If that is all the faith you can muster right now, let it be so.
Be encouraged.
NOTE: I realize that many members of this community have no religious worldview and do not profess faith of any kind, and I’m grateful for that diversity. As you reply, please be respectful of those for whom religion/spirituality is a meaningful pathway. I believe empathy transcends everything, and whether we claim faith or not, we can offer that to one another here as well. Thanks. John
Beautifully articulated. I feel that in the effort to put God in a box through cherry picked beliefs and practices, we have actually been the ones put in the box. Grace and love have been pushed out and replaced with dogma and spreadsheets and rules and regulations to form us into robotic Christians worshipping the golden calf. Your voice and your books are a light in the darkness and a slender path to follow back to God.
I wish I could remember where I read this. It was - I think - in a book written by an Episcopal priest. “Whenever I have to choose between Jesus and the Truth, I choose Truth and I find Jesus there.” I am pretty sure it wasn’t Frederick Buechner but I find his take on the Bible inspiring.