"Clinging to Faith"

Question

“I heard you on a podcast. God seems so personal to you, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard God speak. I’ve even tried your Meeting Place exercise and saw a few things, and even though they seemed true, it just felt like I was making them up. How can I even know that God exists and isn’t just a projection?”

Response

The stubborn fact is that nothing I write in a blog or email will get to the bottom of what you’re experiencing. What’s probably needed is some longer-term direct mentoring that my schedule and location won’t allow. If we had months and years, I might be able to gently walk you back into living faith if you wanted it wholeheartedly. Short of that, what I can offer may sound like platitudes, but I can at least honour your sincere inquiry by not B.S.-ing you. The following are the doors I’d test without trying to force them open. You never know which ones might open until you try them.

1. Cease striving. Maybe your pursuit of God ran dry because it was your pursuit, which can quickly morph into a transactional vending machine model. “I put this token in the slot and nothing came out. What gives? I give up.”

That’s a good place to start. It sounds like you’ve already let go of “pressing in,” praying harder, reading the Bible more, working whatever Christian practices you associated with devotion to God. Good.

One step beyond that might be a commitment to (a) simply pray, “Lord, have mercy” a few times a day, then (b) become attentive to the goodness of God in your life through natural means, and (c) offer up a simple thank you, (d) as if they came from God. I’m not talking about dramatic encounters or incontrovertible proofs. I’m talking about any way that you experience kindness in this life. Can you attribute divine care as one factor in those experiences? Sunsets, a good meal, a warm hug, a sincere conversation, unusual patience, etc.

The function of this exercise is to become mindful and thankful for your experiences of goodness and then remember, “Every good and perfect comes from the Father,” without having to manufacture anything or “pull it down from heaven.” Attentiveness and gratitude may wake you up to the ways you are constantly immersed in grace in the normal ways if God is indeed everywhere present. That might involve some faith. It’s not that you need to find faith again so much as to practice it. It wouldn’t hurt to write down notable instances. “Where did I experience goodness today?”

After six months (don’t rush), you could supplement “Lord, have mercy,” with the “Lord’s Prayer” once a day (schedule it in your phone or attach it to washing your face in the morning). After all, Jesus did say, “When you pray, pray this…” Nothing fancy. Just pay attention to each phrase and note what stirs in you as you pray. Nothing else for six months. After a year, what will you discover?

2. Hearing God. You’ve never heard God? Please let me challenge that for a moment…

• You’ve never has a sense of right and wrong?

• You’ve never felt a sense of wonder at the beauty of the great outdoors?

• You’ve never been captivated by human creativity … by art or music or dance?

• You’ve never read a gut-wrenching Psalm or soul-piercing parable in the Bible and heard a stirring message?

• You’ve never felt an urge to help or an impulse to serve someone?

• You’ve never felt a message of encouragement or hope from a friend, a teacher, a preacher, an author?

• You’ve never had a shift of opinion through storytelling, whether in print or onscreen?

• You’ve never had a dream or mystical experience that felt like more than pizza?

YES, all of these can be explained away. This is where the hiddenness of God can be frustrating. We’re like fish trying to perceive water. Why pretend an invisible God is part of any of that? Well, I might ask the same about love and reduce love to neuro-electrical impulses and hormonal triggers… that joy and peace are nothing more than endorphins and dopamine. Some do. At one level, I simply prefer not to explain away goodness. But even more than that, when I have associated God with all of the above, sometimes I experience them with greater frequency and clarity than projections can account for.

And yes, I know people ascribe God to all kinds of ridiculous things they shouldn’t (it’s even worse than you might think), which is why I run all of the above through the refiner’s fire discernment—by praying through the Beatitudes daily and checking in with friends who love me enough to call BS.

But still, if you want to give your faith a chance, what if you went through that list and recalled an example for each, then hypothetically offered thanks to God for them?

3. Who is your mentor? Forgive me, but it sounds like you may not have one. If not, why not? A mentor is someone you could be talking with (best in person) on at least weekly basis, especially when faith is a struggle. I’ve had at least one mentor (usually two or three at a time) since I was about twelve years old. Sunday School teachers and basketball coaches, club leaders and teachers, spiritual directors and recovery sponsors, pastors and counsellors, and a good number of older people who tucked me under a caring wing when I was struggling.

I have become perturbed at hearing how hard it is to find a mentor. Maybe our elders are not stepping up. But on the other hand, they are not as hard to find as you might think. The problem is usually that we’re too proud to submit ourselves to anyone we don’t esteem as wiser than ourselves, which turns out to be no one. At least not someone who is easily accessible. That, or maybe we’re not willing to invest the time or money to find someone. But for those who do have a heart to be mentored but lack the creativity to find one, here are some options, at least ones most readily accessible:

(a) Go to MacDonalds or Tim Hortons or the like on a Saturday morning. Look for people with silver hair who are congregated, just shooting the breeze. They are likely there every Saturday. Get a coffee, sit near them, eavesdrop. Every Saturday. Just nod a greeting to them for the first month. Maybe a moment will come when you can approach the table and ask, “Can I get you folks anything?” They may say no. Maybe get there early next week and go to the counter and prepay for their table as they show up. Maybe you ask if you can ask a question: “Would any of you be willing to have a coffee with me and tell me your story?” Someone will say yes.

(b) If stalking seniors isn’t your thing, you can simply hire a spiritual director. Be ready to pay them $100 per session, once/month, and stick with it for a year. I’ve had one since 2008. And my own current SD is ready to do a 20-minute free assessment as to whether you’re a good fit. Too much money to get your faith back? Okay. It’s not your time.

(c) Or what if you find a local church that’s sufficiently quiet, where you can’t work up spiritual enthusiasm with a dopamine experience. Hopefully you’ll see some old, quiet, peaceful people and even better if there’s a tea-time after. Attend once a month. See who greets you. Again, notice the silver hair. Don’t give off unwelcoming vibes. Don’t dive into ‘ministries.’ Just be curious enough to see why these people are here. And again, pick a friendly soul … I suggest no younger than 75, and ask if you could have a coffee and listen to their story.

The function of my point is to humble yourself and show some interest in other people’s journey instead of making faith self-centered. It’s about slowing down long enough to listen carefully enough to recognize that if you’re attentive, everyone you meet is absolutely fascinating and has something to show you, some wisdom and reason for hope to deposit in you. Ask them about their faith. Where did it come from? What sustains it? Where have they met God? Ask them to pray for you.

4. Transformation: I’ve let go of my previous approach to evangelism, which was about trying to convince people to believe what I believe using arguments for faith. There’s something off about that… But more than ever, I’m seeing people “come to believe”— not through apologetics or philosophical proofs for God’s existence. It’s not about the empty tomb—it’s about experiencing the life of Christ, specifically through their own transformation.

How that looks in my world is that I befriend people on the margins—like, they’re actual friends (not projects, not targets) with no agenda beyond the mutual encouragement of friendship. One way I encourage them is to let them know how they encourage me. I let them know I care. I let them know I think God cares and that I hope it’s okay that in my prayers, I remember them. My agenda is not to proselytize. This is just how I love people. Hang out, listen, encourage, pray. But here’s the thing… the only faith they need to start experiencing inner transformation is their openness to friendship.

In recent weeks, one said, “I didn’t used to believe in God… really, I hated him. But I can no longer deny the blessings of God in my life, mainly through my friends’ care for me.” And another said, “I’m an atheist, but I have to admit I’m also a miracle. I’m learning to surrender and I’m experiencing freedom.” Then finally it hit home, “But God is love, maybe I do believe in God after all.”

Now if you need a kickstart in your faith, here are some takeaways: (a) start mixing with the marginalized and ask them about their transformation. It’s so inspiring! But also, (b) let me ask this: in all your years, was there no transformation in your life at all? I simply can’t believe that. And were the transformative moments your own doing? If so, good for you. Keep up the good work! But maybe thinking we are saving ourselves is also a delusion. Transformation happens by grace, even when it includes the grace given to do a lot of hard work of recovery or includes the kindness of other people. Let’s not be blind or lack gratitude for the goodness of God’s work in us.

5. Living faith: Finally, I don’t think faith is abstract or ethereal. Somewhere, we do need to actively trust that God is good and participate in that goodness in some way. Occasionally, I meet people whose faith died, and I can ask, “When did you bail out?” or “What disappointment did you experience?” or “Is there some obedience God asked of you that you ran away from?” I don’t know—I’m just convinced that living faith involves living our faith somehow.

Now none of these suggestions may hit the mark, or maybe they sound too traditional (though hanging out on the margins is pretty out there). But I can encourage you this way: you cared enough to listen to a podcast, something I said triggered a response, and you deliberately reached out in good faith.

I hear God in that. And I see faith in that. And what if that’s the new beginning right there. And maybe all of the above can wait and you can simply repeat what happened here: listen to something or someone, let it trigger a response in you, then act on it in good faith. Rinse and repeat.