It's a miracle that I have any faith left. I've always identified with CS Lewis' statement that he was dragged in kicking and screaming. The context is different, since he refers to objections to the idea of a God and I refer to the faith-killing effects of developmental trauma. Especially trauma that includes a spiritual dimension.
It's true that the worst enemy of any movement is its followers. Not only was I taught distorted and heinous misrepresentations of the Bible, but subsequent followers are too ignorant of their own faith or the implications of it. They glibly spout platitudes and judgements and toss it off as being flawed sinful humans when shown wrong.
But you know what, the truth is God doesn't always prevent suffering. He doesn't always answer prayers...I know someone will say, "Ah, but he does! Just not in the way you think." But did you ever stop to think what that says to the kid pleading for God to stop his daddy making him eat vomit? To stop his mommy's throwing dishes at them and then forcing him to be her teddy bear when all he wants to do is crawl away and hide? To stop his nightmares that torture him every night after night after night far into his adult life?
All I can say is that experience doesn't bear out the glib theory. And if you know better, then get off your butt and come fix this for me. Intercede if you have such a better connection to God! Because I can't do it. And I'm not the only one.
Thank God you don't know what it's like. But just shut up about what you don't understand. You just make it harder for other people.
And don't think I don't get you either. I've been there too. I dissociated away my pain and pretended to be the guy with all the answers, thinking I'd fake it til I make it and maybe God would honor the attempt. But it's hollow and damaging. For you, I point out that Isaiah says God hates empty ritual and lip service.
I have faith because it won't leave me. I've seen enough of God revealing himself to me in my worst times that as much as I wanted to be a nihilist, felt like a nihilist, everywhere I turned, there was Jesus again. Splayed out and bloody, rejected and beaten, calling me into embrace with his scarred hands and saying, "I know. I know."
