Hitting the Road of Faith

"Immediately the father of the child cried out, ‘I believe; help my unbelief!’"

Mark 9:24


"Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’" John 20:26b-27
About ten days ago, I spent a truly inspired weekend in Ocean City with around 360 youth plus adult advisors and staff: The Delaware/Maryland Synod's "RoadTrip" retreat for High School students.

There were many highlights: playing music with talented, hard-working young people from all over Maryland, watching the energy and enthusiasm of young people in the large group times, hearing the impact of small group discussions on Salem's young people, even hearing the entire Gospel of Mark, in a way I'd never heard it before: embodied, by a story-teller who knew it by heart.

But among those highlights for me was sitting as an audience member for the "Open Mic" event last Saturday night. Young people got up, shared music (including some rather spectacular beat-boxing), and a few spoken-word reflections: one of which is sticking with me. One young person shared a poem that was breathtakingly honest about her doubts: doubts about God, about the afterlife, and about much of what we proclaim as Christians. It was a tremendously brave thing to do, although less so because of the other young people (who are, after all, trying to figure this thing out themselves) than because of us uptight adult-leader folks (who are supposed to have it figured out by now, and be figuring it out for those young people too!). I can imagine how the "grown-ups" in the faith may have squirmed in our seats a bit listening to what not only this young woman, but all of us, have questioned from time to time in our lives.

What struck me more than anything about this reflection was how humble it was. It was so far from any kind of "final declaration" or "creed", so far from having it all figured out, much less figure it out for others, so clear about this moment in time, as one step in the journey.

It was many years ago now that I came to terms with doubt as a part of faith. It's not something to fear or to squash. It's par for the course. In fact, it can be helpful, because it does keep us humble. It curbs our hubris. It shuts our mouths when we might rush in where angels fear to tread. It warns us of Adam and Eve's desire to "know good from evil", and thereby "be like God." We don't. We can't. Not fully.

Doubt is a constant companion on our journey. But it is not the destination, any more than belief is. That's where I think we can get tripped up. Living through the 20th century and into the 21st, I feel like we have seen the dangers of getting trapped in the certainty of "belief": hemming ourselves in with a set of doctrines, never to be questioned, immune to growth and change, set in our ways, ready to settle into our comfortable Hobbit-holes with our doctrines as companions. The certainty of "belief" (as distinct from "faith") is dangerous, and we know it. That kind of unquestioning certainty has lead to unspeakable violence, and still does.

But we need to also talk about the "certainty of doubt." By this, I mean the doubts we get comfortable with. The doubts that frame our worldview. The mental asterisks we put next to various words and phrases every time we get up and say the creed, the asterisks that ave grown almost as important to us as anything that's written there. Often, these doubts are much more hard-won, the result of much more struggle and sleepless nights, than the beliefs we have never had trouble with. It's understandable that we would hold those doubts close to us: even that they, too, would become our living companions in our settled Hobbit-holes.

But here's the thing: whether you worship every week or not at all, whether you're a fundamentalist or a settled agnostic, God is going to knock on the door at some point, and invite you back out on the road. You are not a finished product. Your doubts, your beliefs, your struggles and triumphs, your strengths and weaknesses, are all part of your faith. And faith is not a Hobbit-hole. It is the road itself.

The week before last, with a lot of others I took a moment to remember the life and work of Marcus Borg , an acclaimed New Testament scholar, a voice in the progressive Christian movement, and (probably most notoriously) a member of the Jesus Seminar. In the latter role, he helped to develop a consensus among scholars as to how historically verifiable the Biblical sayings and deeds of Jesus were. I think the gift this was to the Church is often misunderstood: rather than telling anyone what (not) to believe, it established the things about Jesus on which any serious-minded person of any (or no) faith could agree. It essentially set the boundary-line for where our knowledge ends and our beliefs begin.

But Borg's contributions were much more important than that one collaboration. In his book, The Meaning of Jesus, Borg writes:



"Among some Christians, [the phrase "Jesus died for your sins"] is seen as an essential doctrinal element in the Christian belief system. Seen this way, it becomes a doctrinal requirement: we are made right with God by believing that Jesus is the sacrifice. The system of requirements remains, and believing in Jesus is the new requirement. Seeing it as a metaphorical proclamation of the radical grace of God leads to a very different understanding. “Jesus died for our sins” means the abolition of the system of requirements, not the establishment of a new system of requirements.”


The core of his work, as I understand it, seems to be drilling down to the essential message of Jesus, and the way of Jesus, rather than a system of beliefs about Jesus. I'm thankful for his perspective.


We all have beliefs about Jesus. And some doubts about him, too. The road of faith includes both: moving on from where we are, with Jesus and our fellow disciples as companions, willing to be changed by that journey. Some beliefs may become doubts. Some doubts may become beliefs. Trusting in Jesus is trusting that when we "hit the road" with him, we have nothing to fear, even if the road changes us. The grace has claimed us already. It's time to go exploring.