I am sensitive to the possibility that some of the dark things I have been sharing recently may have introduced, or reinforced, some unease in my readers.

Either the things shared themselves, or the reactions they have engendered in my readers. Or even just the reminders of things that maybe we had buried as too painful to confront.

Either way, doubts may have arisen (or pre-existed) about their faith, doubts about their church, doubts about their leaders, their denomination, their beliefs. While I fully acknowledge that God uses all these factors in order to move His children on in their spiritual walk, sometimes we need a bit of help along the way. There’s nothing wrong with doubts, but they can be uncomfortable, and that’s what I want to address today.

In our processes of rebuilding our faith structure, therefore, and re-realising what we actually believe, it is good to get some encouragement from ‘outside’; in this instance, from a good ‘third party’, the brilliant John Pavlowitz. This essay reminds us of just how good God is, which is always a good thing 🙂

Here, then, is his encouraging piece. I hope it blesses you as much as it has blessed me!

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.

The original post can be found here

Continuing our sequence of Dark Testimonies, as part of my series on the Problems of Evangelicalism, here is another beautifully eloquent testimony from one of my friends.

My friend has asked to remain anonymous, so I have of course honoured that – but the story still maintains its power nevertheless. Here we go:

Self – Flagellation 

In the church of my youth, self-flagellation^[1] was a spiritual discipline.

I’ll explain.

During communion services, men were allowed to stand up, read from the Bible, and expand on their thoughts a little. Women were generally restricted to asking the organist to play a specific hymn/song, or to pray. If they read from the Bible, they weren’t allowed to say anything about what they’d read out, as that would be considered teaching.

Anyway, one Sunday morning, during the communion service, my father rose to his feet and, in a rare display of emotion, announced, ‘I am a sinner!’. Specifically, he told the congregation about some behaviour he wasn’t proud of, but the heart of his confession was this peculiar passion about being a sinner. Reaffirming his fallen identity in public was very much the trumpet blast of his faith, as it was for many in the congregation.

After he sat down, another man stood up to talk about how ‘brave’ my dad was for telling us of his sins.

My father’s passion for public confession was symptomatic of a wider theological fallacy in the church we attended. Men would rarely get passionate about grace, mercy, or the life and ministry of Jesus, but they loved to talk about sin. With the benefit of hindsight, I’ve reached the conclusion that this was the closest these believers ever got to a mystical experience.

The reformed theology of my denomination didn’t allow for joy. It taught us we were ‘worthless sinners’, and that the only reason any of us could approach God was because the torture we deserved had been taken out on Jesus.

We could stand in God’s presence under a ‘cloak of righteousness’, but always in the knowledge that we deserved to burn.

We spent more time, energy, and emotion obsessing about sin than we did focussing on Jesus and what he showed us about the curative, liberating, inclusive, and unconditional love of God. I’m not even sure this form of faith can be described as Christianity.

– Anonymous

Well. How do you follow that? How far had those people drifted from the simple, light and free, joy-filled faith that Christianity – Flying in the Spirit – really brings?

The testimony serves as a stark reminder that being sin-focused, either/both personally or as a church, leads to misery, drudgery and darkness. Sadly, sin-fixation is endemic in many if not most of today’s Evangelical churches. As I’ve said before,

I’ve also noticed that when you start to enthuse about your freedom while talking with a Legalist – whether they know they are one or not! – the first thing they will do is to try to explain to you why you should not be free.

And this is both symptomatic of a sin-fixation and also the ‘thin end of the wedge’ of creeping legalism; the ‘yeast of the Pharisees’. Bit by bit, any kind of acknowledgement that sin is something you should be looking at, concentrating on or even defending against, any hint of that will lead eventually to legalism. And so, it is especially relevant to look at Hebrews 12:1 once again, “…let us throw off…the sin that so easily entangles…” ‘Sin’ entangles not only by addiction and obsession, as most Evangelicals would interpret this passage – and they’d be partly right – but also that it’s the obsession with sin itself that is what really entangles. How can I put this with sufficient emphasis? The actual obsession with trying to not sin, making sure you’re not ‘entertaining’ any form of sin, trying to ‘stay away from every kind of evil’ (1Thess 5:22), and all that sort of thing. The fear that the ‘devil’, who ‘…prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour…’ might just get a look-in and devour the believer^[2]. All these things are themselves the problem. As my friend’s testimony so eloquently describes, it’s not the ‘sins’ themselves that made that church service so dark – it was the actual fixation on sin that is the problem^[3]. I say ‘is the problem’ because it’s not just limited to the time and place of my friend’s story, but it goes on all the time in the minds and congregations of legalistic Christians. And it was even the main fixation of the Pharisees back in New Testament times, so it’s not like it’s anything new. The constant battle against ‘sin’ is the major defining feature of many Evangelical Christians’ faith. And that’s so sad.

In Romans 7, St. Paul famously writes about his struggles with ‘sin’, concluding that it is Jesus Christ our Lord who sets him free from all that. Notice that he’s not saying that Jesus stops him from sinning, nor that Jesus quiets that notional ‘other man’, the ‘wretched man’ that persists in his desire to ‘sin’. Instead, Jesus sets him free; He takes away the whole problem by making it so that ‘sin’ is no longer an issue between man and God; it has nothing to do with righteousness any more. Because of Jesus, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because the Law of the Spirit of Life has set us free from that Law of sin and death that the ‘wretched man’ of Romans 7 was subjected to. Many preachers I have heard have commented that the allocation of chapter and verse, for some parts of the Scriptures, was not ‘inspired’ in that sometimes the chapter breaks occur at silly and unhelpful places. The Romans 7 and 8 juncture is such a place, because the chapter break interrupts Paul’s logic flow. However, not one of those preachers went any further than to say that the chapter break of Romans 7-8 is not inspired; they didn’t ever once say why they thought that^[4].

Well the reason why is as I have just said above. Jesus has set us free from the need to worry about ‘sin’ because there is now no condemnation. None at all. In fact, given that Romans 3:20 says, ‘Therefore no-one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by the works of the Law, rather through the Law we become conscious of our sin’, he’s saying that trying to follow the Law – obeying the Rules, to put it bluntly – is futile and pointless. Now that the Law has exposed ‘our’ ‘sin’, it has fulfilled its purpose. Everyone who believes that they have ‘broken God’s Law’ now knows that; job done, so the Law can now pack up and go home. What Paul does in Romans 7-8, and through all his preceding arguments, is to say that Law is no longer relevant in terms of human righteousness, because that’s all been done by Jesus.

Therefore, being constantly sin-conscious is to deny that there is now no condemnation for those in Christ. Those who are in Christ have been set free from that same Law of sin and death that has no place in their lives any more. He also said – to a different group of believers and at a different time – that ‘if you walk in the Spirit, then you will not gratify the desires of the flesh’. This doesn’t mean that it prevents you from gratifying, or giving in to, those desires, whatever they are^[5], but instead that just by walking in the Spirit means that you are no longer walking in the flesh, whatever that means. Walking in the Spirit – walking with Jesus and doing what you see Father doing (Jn 5:19) – is what the Christian life can and should be.

Note that I don’t mean walking around with your head in the clouds singing la-la-la. It’s that the state of being for Christians who realise the freedom of Grace – which is what makes us free to walk in the Spirit in the first place – is that they just get on with their lives, generally conscious that their lives are in the right place with God and that, just by living and doing the right thing, along with things the Spirit prompts them to do, they are living a righteous life. Not by their own efforts, but by resting in the place that God has given them: the place of righteousness, the place of peace, and the place of joy, because that’s what the Kingdom of God is about, not about rules and regulations. Romans 14:17 says that, “…the kingdom of God is not about food and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit”. In that passage, Paul is arguing that eating or drinking the right or wrong foods is not what it’s all about; that’s all irrelevant. What it’s about is righteousness, peace and joy in the Spirit. It’s not about Law.^[6]. By that point in his letter to the Romans, Paul had already established that the righteousness needed is by faith, and that that is a gift – a Grace, a charis (Greek), a free gift of God. And therefore his readers have already got it. It’s not something that can be taken away or lost in any fashion.

In Romans 3:21, right in the heart of the passages so favoured by legalists, Paul is actually saying something different from legalism. In that passage he says that the righteousness is apart from Law. It has nothing to do with Law – with behaviour – not even a little bit (Eph 2:8-9). The essence of Romans 3:21 is that the righteousness is almost a new thing, because he says there, “But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify”. Not only does it say, ‘But now…’ as if something has changed – which it has, of course – but also the Law and the Prophets testify to it. This means that the Law and the Prophets have ‘handed over’ that new righteousness apart from Law. It ties in with Jesus’s Transfiguration (Mt 17:1-8, Mk 9:2-13, Lk 9:28-36), where God’s voice says ‘This is My Son; listen to Him!’, meaning that from now on, Jesus supersedes the Law (signified by the presence of Moses) and the Prophets (signified by Elijah), This is an aspect of the Transfiguration that is little understood by Evangelical Christianity, and even if you explained it to them, they would choose not to accept that interpretation. I would say that’s at least partly because they want to retain the rules from the Law and the Prophets.

Well, of course they do; it helps them stay sin-conscious! Where would sin-consciousness be without Moses? 🤣

Header picture shows two mediaeval plonkers performing self-flagellation. You’d have thought times would have changed by now, wouldn’t you? 🤣

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We begin our series on the problems with Evangelicalism by sharing some ‘dark testimonies’.

These are testimonies by Christians who were subjected to the dark evils of being part of a domineering Evangelical faith. Testimonies where damage was done, and people were abused to one extent or another. In some cases, there was a happy ending. In other cases, not so much. But I’m going to share them anyway.

The testimonies give great examples of some of the excesses and abuses of Evangelical leadership, their indoctrination methods and their harsh dealings with members of their congregations. As usual, I would emphasise that not all Evangelical congregations have leaders like this; however a potential church member isn’t going to know until they have been ‘netted'^[1]. Most new Christians, and also people ‘seeking’ or showing an interest in Christianity, haven’t a clue about the less-than-innocent things that go on in the churches at which they enquire, in their innocence, about the things of God.

As I said in the opening piece of this series, normally I like to concentrate on “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.” (Phil 4:8) but in these cases, it is necessary to look into the darkness to see what it’s really like in there.

So here’s the first of those pieces, an account of the oppressive Calvinist church^[2] background of my online friend, Sonny Ray:

Of course, like I assume most American highschoolers of the early 1970s, I was taught Edwards’ “Sinners in the hands of an angry God.”^[3] That was the flavor of the “christianity” (note that I didn’t capitalize it!) I grew up with.

We were taught nothing but fear. I was 14 when I “prayed the sinner’s prayer” and “got saved”. But by that point I already had a decade of KNOWING and BELIEVING in the God of Love. Looking back, I realize that I knew what they taught us was not the God of Jesus. The god (note that I didn’t capitalize it!) they taught me was not the Love of 1 Corinthians 13.

But growing up in conservative, rural, Deep South United States in the age of drugs, sex, and rock-and-roll, they kept us almost perfectly in check by threatening us with hell. And I not only got it in church (note that I didn’t capitalize it!). I got it at home. Mama was the image, in the flesh, of the tyrant god that the Calvinists teach. She ruled with anger, shaming, degradation, all kinds of negative approaches. Not to mention extreme corporal punishment.

It took me a very long time to walk away from that lie. To throw out the tyrant slavemaster and abusive father-figure they showed me. To learn again the God I understood as a 3 year old. The God who’s “got the whole world in His hands”. That was a children’s song my mama sang to me out on the front porch of our house one night. It was very probably the ONLY positive contribution she ever made to my faith. For in THAT MOMENT, I knew God was love. And I wanted to know that God. A God who could love me that much was a God I wanted to know. A God I could believe in.

But even having had that epiphany, I had no control over the indoctrination I received and accepted for the next 40 years! Hell, I was a CHILD. How was I supposed to avoid what they forced down my throat? They were meant to teach, guide, nurture and protect me!

But God love them. I can’t be too hard on them. They only passed down to me, the same errors they were taught.

It took me almost 30 years to escape. I’ll save the details of that for some other time. But when I escaped, I set a huge bonfire, burning that bridge behind me. Breaking away from that hell was traumatic. I knew I had to walk away. But I can’t tell you how much fear dogged me. It took a good while for me to get done with the deconstruction; burn the wood, hay, and stubble; and start gradually building back, stone by stone, the foundation and then the structure of the faith I have today — 27 years later!

I could go on. But you get the picture.

[Emperor] Constantine I was IMO one of the worst things that ever happened to the movement begun by Jesus. And we’ve already spent 1700 years, this year, paying the consequences of THAT error. And he was only one of the problems — errors — hypocrisies — heresies — the “church” has succumbed to in the 2000 years since Christ.

– Sonny Ray, used with his kind permission

Note how, in Sonny Ray’s experience, even though he had ‘prayed the Sinner’s Prayer’, still his church and family felt they could threaten him with Hell.

This, to me, has to be one of the worst inconsistencies in all of Evangelicalism. ‘He who calls on the Name of the Lord will be saved’ (Romans 10:13; Joel 2:32), claims the evangelist salesman who calls people out to the altar to ‘get saved’. Will be saved. Not, ‘will be saved as long as you behave yourself’, but will be saved. “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6) [emphasis mine] and other similar reassuring verses.

And then in a typical bait-and-switch, all of a sudden the deal is changed; now you have to behave yourself as well; if you believe that, then it effectively cancels out those verses they used to sell it to you.^[4] The idea of threatening the ‘already-saved’ with hell also has this corollary: the person making the threat is also subject to its effects; i.e. they too could ‘go to hell’ if they put a foot wrong, despite being ‘already saved’. The idea of ‘once saved, always saved‘, is anathema to these people because if that was true then they’d lose their ability to threaten. Maybe also they are so insecure in their salvation that they feel that they too would be condemned due to ‘blood-guiltiness'^[5] were they to not ‘point out’ errors and transgressions in others?

He also demonstrates something I have mentioned in my previous work: how the pure Jesus experience, knowing God as Father and all that, how it gets overlaid by layers of toxic church baggage, through intensive indoctrination. It really is criminal, although Sonny Ray is very gracious towards the people who did that to him and doesn’t hold it against them.

Anyway, these are just points that immediately struck me; I will leave you to glean your own conclusions and thinking from the story.

Grace and Peace to you!

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