Certainty

I’ve wondered lately about the role of doubt in the life of a Christian. What is a bit ironic to me is that the gripe many unbelievers have with Christians is their dishonesty. The appearance of certainty seems fake and therefore uninviting. I wonder if we can have a more open dialogue with unbelievers if we are honest about our doubts. I wonder if less answers and more questions is a better approach to life.

In fairness, I see dishonesty on both sides of the belief threshold. Unbelievers often tend to not be honest about their motivations for seeking justification for their unbelief. Most of the time, I believe that an underlying urge to shed accountability fuels the fervency of their pursuit against religion. They want to do whatever they feel like doing without feeling guilty. If they can somehow prove that there is no God that is interested in their behavior, they can truly be free.

I don’t see any reason to hide behind a pretense of certainty. Faith is what we do despite our doubt. If there were no doubt, there would be no opportunity for faith.

But faith is also not blind. We have to have a reason to believe. For many of us it’s the easiest way we know how to function. It’s the path of least resistance. For others, it’s the best answer to our deepest questions. Many of us are driven to faith because we have experienced things that we can’t explain rationally. What has fueled my faith lately are the intangibles; stuff that can’t be explained rationally. It’s the sense of hope and wonder; the sense that I am being heard when I am alone; the beauty of music and art; the discovery that I am able to love others and not sense a need for their love in return (or for that matter the need for a drug or destructive habit to fill the void that is created when I don’t get what I feel I need from others). All of these, I believe, are fingerprints of the divine. I can’t explain many parts of the bible and why much of it rubs me the wrong way. I can’t explain why the earth seems older than 6000 years to people much smarter than me. I can’t explain why horrible tragedy is endured by relatively innocent people. I can’t explain much at all, but I’m not really sure I have to. There is still something inside of me that causes me to believe anyway; something mysterious and other-worldly that is much stronger than anything I could conjure up on my own. It was almost as if …, well as if it was intentionally placed there by someone else.