I Have Doubts

The Daily, a podcast from the New York Times, has been part of my morning routine for the last few months. The 20 to 30 minute episodes have helped me learn so much about everything from global politics and economics to foreign trade and cultural events.

Last week, I listened to one about a woman names Rachel Held Evans.

She passed away in May and it was like an auditory obituary. I had never heard of her before but I quickly learned that she was a Christian blogger who created waves and started a movement because of what she wrote about her faith.

All she said was that she struggled with it. That she had doubts. And the unwillingness of her church peers to discuss those doubts drove her from the church.

As I was listening, it was like a bell went off in my head. Someone else had doubts? Someone else fell away from the church because they couldn’t rationalize things like science, wars, the politicization of religion and more?

It was the first time that I realized that I wasn’t alone. Honestly, it was the first time it even occurred to me that I actually had doubts.

The rest of the podcast was about her legacy and how she made so many people feel like they weren’t alone. It was powerful for me and ended with a discussion of her books.

I immediately found, downloaded and started reading her book “Searching for Sunday.” It’s all about her wrestling with her doubts and trying to figure them out. As I was reading, I realized that my doubts and questions were the first thing that started to drive me away from the church.

There was a period of time where I was “a youth group girl.” I had a good community, enjoyed talking about the Bible and prayer and actively participated in everything. I was happy with it, but then I asked my first serious question.

“I really like that “Coexist” bumper sticker. The one with all the symbols of various religion on it. Why can’t we all get along?”

I was immediately shot down with a “There’s a pagan star that’s a symbol of satan on there.”

Effectively, “that’s an evil bumper sticker. Christianity is the only way.”

I was deeply troubled by this and still hadn’t had my question answered.

Then I was leading a prayer lesson about meditation and said that choosing a word that you could draw out and repeat in your head like “Om.” The second I said that I was gently corrected, “That’s a Hindu word. Choose something related to Christianity.”

I had read before the lesson that “Om” was the Hindu’s universal word for God. So I was even more confused. More doubts. More questions. No answers or conversation.

Then I went to college. I started singing in the church choir. I found friends and fellowship there. I started to participate in a Christian Life Group. I was talking to peers who had similar questions. I was raised Episcopalian but was finding what felt like a second breath of air in the Jesuit Catholic Church of my University.

I felt much more content with God. When I prayed, I felt Him. I felt calm and peace and felt like I was being heard. It was a good period of time for my faith life.

Being a Catholic university, religion classes were part of the required core. Religion 101 was easy enough but I was troubled by the fact that early Christians viewed the crucifix as too gory to display. There was one in every classroom at my University and we started to talk about why they came back into fashion. The overwhelming conclusion that would couldn’t get away from: to make you feel guilty and afraid.

Another chip away. Another doubt seeded.

There then I got to Moral Decision Making. I was the only Protestant in a room full of Catholics. I was constantly playing Devil’s Advocate…(no pun intended...I think?).

I was a second-semester sophomore in college. I was at the peak of my questions. The first part was easy enough. Basic doctrine, can murder be just, how do we handle wars, etc, etc.

I didn’t have a problem with the class until we got to talking about women’s health. Specifically abortion and in-vitro fertilization. I conceded on the abortion conversation. It wasn’t worth the fight but I knew I was livid about the cowardly way my state was passing abortion laws by sneaking them into budget bills. Even then I knew in my gut that I believe women have the right to choose and that it was wrong that states were deliberately circumventing was is law in Roe vs. Wade.

But I digress. That wasn’t where my real crisis of faith happened.

It happened when we talked about in vitro fertilization.

We were studying some papal document about rules that church had to follow and the topic of the day was is in vitro fertilization moral/right?

I have never heard such vitriol come from people of the age to have never been faced with the question or fear of infertility. I’m sure that no one will be surprised when I add the most of that maliace came from the men in the room.

The overwhelming feeling in the room was that if you couldn't have children, there shouldn’t be any medical intervention allowed to assist you with having them. God simply didn’t want you to have kids. I was furious and hurt and so confused.

I raised my hand and asked, “Wait, but if God it making that decision, then why did he even let us discover in vitro fertilization as an option. He could have stopped us. Made sure we didn’t figure it out. He could have intervened.”

My question and doubt was brushed off as ridiculous and never addressed.

I tried again. Appealing to the human side, “Well what about people who get something like cancer and in vitro or fertility treatments is the only way to have kids. My aunt had cancer and that was the only way she was able to have her daughter.”

I was told that it was wrong what my aunt did and that it was immoral according to the church.

The foundation cracked.

Now every little thing caused me to doubt more.

On a mission trip to Ecuador talking about other religions, “How do we know if we are right? Everyone else thinks they are right just as much as we do. How can we be sure?”

Answer: “Christianity is the closest way to God.” End of conversation.

When talking to girlfriends about where they want to get married: “Why do you have to get married in a church building? Isn’t God everywhere? Isn’t that what we always say in church?”

Answer: “God is only in the Tabernacle. I have to get married in the building.”

When asking about the outdoor services that some college peers were having at their home: “That’s awesome! Why can’t we do that for the real services?”

Answer: “God is in the church building. Those services they are doing aren’t real services.”

When standing in choir in front of my peers who I knew spent all weekend drinking, partying and going home with guys: “Is anyone else bothered by our hypocrisy? Or is is cool if we just show up once a week.”

Answer: *shrug*

When going home to my parent’s church and going to service with them: “Why is everything about guilt and sin and making us feel terrible?”

Answer: “You’re being too sensitive”

And my internal thoughts:

Why can’t we just let the LGBTQ community get married? Why do we care? Aren’t they entitled to that happiness? Also what is it hurting you?

Why do these retreat group leaders get treated like gods?

Does anyone else think the whole the wine and bread is the ACTUAL body and blood of God thing gross and weird and unnecessary?

Why does everyone drink from the same wine cup? That’s how diseases spread.

Also if I drop this piece of bread on the floor, is it really a sin to just toss it?

Why am I not allowed to take communion at the Catholic Church? I’ve been baptized. I believe. I participate. Why am I not welcome?

Why are there so many wars? Why are people dying?

Why are these Roman churches so ornate? I thought we were supposed to live simply? Doesn't this bother anyone else?

Why is this service being conducted in Latin? No one can understand.

Why do I need a priest to talk to God for me?

Why pray to a saint? What about “There is only one true God”? You don’t need intercession. You are allowed to talk directly to God….right?

Why are divorced people shunned?

Why do divorced Catholics need dispensation and annulments? Why dies the Pope get that power?

Why do so many established Christian denominations seem to hate so much?

Why did the Crusades happen?

Why is the Bible being flung at women when it comes to their healthcare?

What about separation of church and state?

On and on and on and on.

I felt so alone.

No one answered my questions. No one even bothered to entertain them. I was shut down. Shut out.

“Pray more.” “Come to this service” “Try this volunteer project” “Give up something for Lent”

None of it worked.

And finally...I just stopped.

I became hollow and numb.

I stopped going to church.

When I participated in a religious activity, I just went through the motions. I tried to pray, but couldn’t. I couldn’t feel anything when I went to mass, so I stopped.

I tried to get back into the habit after I graduated. I tried church after church. The first one got weird when people tried to pull me into a youth group thing like the second time I was there and then made me feel guilty about saying no.

The second was great, but then the pastor I loved left and the new one just didn’t feel right.

One of the last services I remember going to was a summer service after I had a really dark night. Like suicidal thoughts dark night. When I woke up, I needed something to ground me. I went to the outdoor summer service and just tried not to cry. It helped, but I still didn’t feel connected.

Eventually, I just stopped going altogether.

I was invited to a number of other post-college religious groups. But it felt fake and I just couldn’t get past that. And I still had so many doubts.

The 2016 election made things worse. The religious right said that God made sure Trump got elected and I just crumbled. I couldn’t fathom a God who would allow someone with so much hate and dishonesty to look after America.

I’m still struggling. And I kind of wrote off my religious journey as lost. I gave up. Stopped trying and just went on with the Sunday traditions I had built with my husband.

There was a little part of my spirit that was being tugged on every so often. A friend would say something. I would read something, hear something or feel something that made me think that maybe I should try again.

Then I heard this podcast. And I knew I needed to do something because for the first time, I realized I wasn’t alone. Other people had doubts. Big doubts. Doubts so significant that they drove them from the church. It was the first time I had ever been exposed to that.

I felt like I was coming up for air. Like I could breathe. Like it was okay that I had doubts and that I wasn’t alone.

I’ve been reading Searching for Sunday all this week and it’s been so comforting to know that there are so many other people who have doubts. It’s enough to make me reconsider where and how religion fits in my life. I’m not really at the “Let’s jump back into church” stage. More at the “let’s dip a toe in the ‘doubts are okay’” world of books and reading. It’s a step. And I now know that I’m not alone and not the only person who doubts.

Thank you, Rachel. I wish I had the opportunity to know about you sooner. I hope you have peace in knowing that you have and will continue to help so many people feel less alone.