Hope floats (not the movie)Written by hootenannie on October 10th, 2011
As one who grew up in the church, I have had moments in the last several years when I have wondered, “Why am I a Christian?” Is it just because I was raised to believe what I believe – or is there a deeper reason? Do I have faith on my own, apart from my family and friends and community? If I was born in another time and place, would the core of what I believe be the same?
These are big questions, especially for someone who has never had much opportunity to separate God from the American Christian church – and I, like many others, have learned that the church is not always the best representation of what the Christian faith is about.
Come to think of it, *I* am not always the best representation of what the Christian faith is about.
Personally, I have struggled with a lot of cynicism and doubt, especially in the last couple of years. I don’t doubt that there is a God, but I have wondered if he is, indeed, involved in an intimate way in our lives. Did he create the world, set it spinning, and then just step back? Does he really love us – not just in a “whole world in his hands” kind of way, but in a deeply personal and specific way? When the Bible tells us that God says, “I know the plans I have for you,” does it mean that there is, in fact, a PLAN for our lives? Is God truly in the details? Does he care if I choose option A or option B? Does God care, period?
I’m supposedly a grown woman these days, free to live as I please, and no one is making me go to church. The stable home and family that I had always known has recently crumbled beneath my feet. While my childhood and college years were spent largely in church-centric settings, I’m out in the “big, bad world” now, surrounded by plenty of kind and intelligent people who would not necessarily align themselves with the Christian faith. So what is it about this Jesus?
Some days, when life hits me like an avalanche and I’m pummeled by rocks and snow, left jarred and confused and not sure which way is up, I can be at a loss for answers.
But in the midst of all of my questions, here is what I know.
Regardless of what I believe, or what you believe, or what anyone believes, humans ask the eternal sorts of questions. Where did I come from, and where am I going? What is my purpose? What is good and what is evil? What will happen to me after I die? All of us have wondered these things – they are the deep and primal questions of the soul. Why would we long for answers if there wasn’t a supreme truth? This makes me trust that there is a God, and that there is an ultimate answer – and that even if the details might be fuzzy and confusing now, I believe that one day we will see the truth clearly.
When I think of my own path, and how many times I have been tempted to give up hope – for little specific things, or in an overarching way – the moment hope returns is nothing short of a miracle. I mean it – it’s a miracle. It’s not by my own doing – I cannot will the hope back – it’s not the “triumph of my human spirit” (because trust me, my human spirit isn’t that strong – currently, it’s shriveled up and ugly, like newborn Benjamin Button).
But hope just keeps coming back. I can’t shake it. And every time it returns, I think that there must be a God who loves me, Annie – and maybe he even has a plan for my life. Maybe he’s somehow steering the course, despite my anger and doubt and fear, and all of the times that I’ve thumbed my nose at him. Maybe I don’t have to believe that “everything happens for a reason,” but maybe I can get behind the idea that “nothing is ever wasted.” Maybe there is a purpose and a design to the apparent chaos of my current world – maybe it’s actually getting me where I’m supposed to be.
Maybe it’s less about “being a Christian,” and more about knowing Jesus.
I may not have all of the answers, or see the truth clearly. I know that many who read this don’t believe the same things that I do – and I’m not going to try to convince anyone of anything. This blog is not a tent revival (yelling and sweat have never really been my thing). But in the words of Frederick Buechner:
A Christian is one who points at Christ and says, “I can’t prove a thing, but there’s something about his eyes and his voice. There’s something about the way he carries his head, his hands, the way he carries his cross – the way he carries me.”
That’s all I know.