Shadow of Doubt
I’m a Christian… And I have often doubted everything I believe in. Questions—real ones, not just philosophical banter and trivial debate—have often crept into my heart in the face of hardship, searing loss, and rending heart-break.
These questions don’t just arise just from watching the Friday-night news, and seeing the (very real) horrors of what’s happening half a world away. Often the most haunting doubts arise from what I see happening closer to home—to the family and friends who sit across from me in Church each Sunday morning. The respected Pastor who suddenly succumbs to temptation, abandoning his beautiful wife and children for a life of utter depravity, leaving them to survive on their own amidst the wreckage that has become their new reality. Witnessing the forsaken wife carry on, bearing up under the back-breaking load his faithlessness has left to her... The heart-break, unanswered questions, rumors, and financial burdens—as she bravely seeks to rebuild a life for herself and her children. Rejoicing with her, as she finds love and security again… Only to have that joy suddenly snuffed out, as she loses her life to cancer—and her bereaved new husband and children are forced to carry on without her.
And then there are still others—the family that suddenly loses their farm as their business goes under; good people who suddenly see their home burned to the ground in a devastating fire; and the child from my daughter’s kindergarten classroom who tragically drowns. The trusted friend and ministry worker, who ends up in prison after being convicted of child sex-abuse. The beloved Church leaders, who end up in divorce when the wife can no longer bear the pain and hardship accompanying her husband’s debilitating brain disease… And finally, the wincing at hearing whispers, speculations, and gossip that drift about like a silent, deadly poison from within Christian circles… Altogether, it seems enough to drive anyone (with any rudiments of sense) to want to forsake Church-going altogether, and flee to a life of hermitage out in some God-forsaken desert somewhere.
I try to wrap my head around these mind-bending questions (inwardly knowing that I will never reach an answer this side of Heaven), even as I deal with personal struggles. Struggles which, likewise, seem to have no tangible answers or solutions. The monotony of the daily grind, as hard work disappears into apparent failure. The sensation of being a dispensable extra, lost in a social masquerade of perfect actors and smiling facades. The sinking sense of futility, as years of unanswered prayers pass by while the Heavens are silent, and hope has all but died.
In such moments, I find myself (unwillingly) questioning what the point is—if, indeed, there truly is a point to all of this sorrow-filled chaos and madness. And it is then that I hear a voice—an eery resemblance to my own—answering all my trembling fears and heartaches with cold rhetoric that pierces through my very soul:
“There is no God,” it states frankly, “Or if there is, then either He does not care enough, or is not powerful enough to handle the world and lives He unfortunately created.”
And try as I might to shut out the voice of my demons, I cannot deny this one shameful fact: I am a Christian with Atheistic thoughts. And if I struggle to hold onto my Faith today, how can I possibly hold on for another 20 or 50 years? Are my dearly held beliefs nothing more than a Band-Aid-solution, an attempt to hide from the disillusionment of reality? Is Christianity nothing more than a fanciful fairy-tale for blind dreamers, and those belayed with moral scruples?... If Emanuel means “God with us”, then why does it seem as if God has left on vacation, with no apparent intent of returning?
In the midst of my tortured ruminations, I feebly grapple for something—anything—to which I can securely anchor myself: I start with the facts. And the facts make it clear that Jesus of Nazareth was a real historical figure, whose existence and death was corroborated and confirmed by the historians of his day. That is fact, whether you believe the Gospels or not. But even more compelling, perhaps, than even the adamant declarations of his disciples, was the silence of his enemy persecutors following testimonies of his resurrection. The forceful measures they took to ensure that the God-Man would not return to life only added credibility and undeniable proof to the contrary. And what of Jesus himself? If, as the evidence supports, he truly did rise from the dead, then what does that make him?... Simply this: the most powerful man ever to step across the pages of history—a man who was master of his own destiny, Lord over both life and death. That, by itself, is substantial verification that He is more than powerful and capable enough to direct my own life… But can I trust the direction He chooses?
Again my thoughts falter, as I recollect the grisly display of shattered lives and mangled hearts strewn all about me in the Present… They trusted Him too… And look where it got them? Perhaps He doesn’t really care as much as we’d all wanted to believe… What with all the billions of people on the planet, with their trivial little lives and problems, maybe God really does have favorites… Perhaps expecting Him to actually step into my life and bend the cosmos in my favor is just too much to hope for…
I can feel my hope again slipping away, as I plunge into the black void of despair—flailing for something to grab hold of, wondering if I’ll ever see light again. I’ve spent many moments of my life in this Darkness, seemingly falling through time and space for whole seasons at a time.… How long will it last this time? … And why does He take so long to find and rescue me?
Silence…
It’s true, I find myself saying; I really am on my own.
And then through the confusion of all my inner voices, another voice rings out—quiet, gentle, yet strong and firm—
“Child, what does My Word say?”
A plethora of verses instantly tumble through my conscious thoughts like rays of sunlight, some all the way from half forgotten memory. Promises of hope, strength, courage and victory. I reach out with trembling fingers to grab hold, then suddenly pull back.
“But what if they’re not true?” I hear my doubts asking, “What if I can’t really rely on those promises for this specific situation?”
The voice quietly answers:
“You will either believe in all of My promises, or you will believe in none of them. It is simply impossible to believe only half-way.”
“But what if I believe, and it doesn’t turn out as I’ve hoped and prayed?” I quiver.
“Then believe that I know what is best. Believe that I have all power in Heaven and on Earth to turn even your greatest pain into unfathomable blessing, your greatest weakness into overwhelming power, your greatest failure into outstanding victory.”
I consider this a moment… It is true, He does have the power… But will He?
“Child, do you believe what My Word says regarding My unchanging Love for you?”
… This is it. The crux of the matter, the heart of my dilemma. And much as I hate to admit it, I can already hear my doubts answering for me:
“No, I don’t…”
I wish I did…wish I could… But I know myself. And I know that there are far too many shameful and unlovable traits about me—weak tendencies and vices I wish with all my heart I could defy straight into oblivion.
“You must believe,” the voice continues. “If you cannot believe in My Love for you, then you will truly have nothing.”
My mind winds its way through all of the Bible promises I’ve read countless times throughout the years. But in this world, we’re all used to hearing promises. And more often than not, they are forgotten and broken—nothing more than shallow flatteries meant to pacify naïve fools. Or at best, they are nothing but well-meant intentions—which in the end turn up empty and powerless… Why should these promises be any different?... For all I know, the words printed on the pages before me might be nothing more than mere words recorded by men, and not truly God’s words at all. But if that be so, then what am I to do with all of the other prophetic promises from Scripture which have come true, proving themselves to be God’s Word? In particular, what of all the countless prophecies given regarding the Christ—prophecies which one man alone miraculously fulfilled—and against such unpredictable odds that defied mere coincidence and circumstance, and which have baffled historians, mathematicians, and critics alike?
Again I find myself confronted by Jesus—this mysterious being once so familiar to me in the past, but seeming such a stranger to me now. A historic figure shrouded by more than two thousand years of controversy, fables and mysticism; depicted in stained glass murals and displayed by iconic statues; vehemently decried by atheists, and infamously represented by many who claim his name. Who and what was he, and who and what is he to me now?
My mind flashes back to that moment in time two thousand years ago, when a lowly carpenter from nowhere posed this question to his straggling gang of followers:
“Who do you say that I am?”
…Their answer to that question from that moment forth forever changed their lives. It is the same question that has echoed across the centuries, calling out to wise and foolish alike, great philosophers together with the simple minded, it’s frank, simple directness demanding an answer. And now it comes echoing back to me again… What will I do with Jesus of Nazareth?
The answer is clear—to reject Jesus would be contrary to sound reason and logic. And if I must accept Him, then I must also accept everything He said about Himself—His claims to be the long awaited Savior of the world, and His staunch support of all the previous books of the Bible as recorded in the Old Testament. I must accept His claim of Himself as being God Incarnate, along with His (God’s) recorded promises throughout the whole of Scripture… I must accept and believe all of them. That He is all-powerful, all-knowing, and unchanging. That He is the very soul of Love itself—even when all I see and feel seems to blatantly defy this.
Again I hear the whisper:
"I will never leave you nor forsake you... I will be with you always, even to the very end of all things."
Lord, help me in my unbelief, I hear myself whisper in a hushed prayer.
The words to an old and much beloved hymn come drifting back to me:
O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s a light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
His Word shall not fail you—He promised;
Believe Him, and all will be well:
Then go to a world that is dying,
His perfect salvation to tell!
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
…There it is. Hope again flickers in my turmoil of darkness. No, it is not the much longed for light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel… But it is light enough to help me find my way, until I come to it.
—C.A. CLARK, Copyright ©
These questions don’t just arise just from watching the Friday-night news, and seeing the (very real) horrors of what’s happening half a world away. Often the most haunting doubts arise from what I see happening closer to home—to the family and friends who sit across from me in Church each Sunday morning. The respected Pastor who suddenly succumbs to temptation, abandoning his beautiful wife and children for a life of utter depravity, leaving them to survive on their own amidst the wreckage that has become their new reality. Witnessing the forsaken wife carry on, bearing up under the back-breaking load his faithlessness has left to her... The heart-break, unanswered questions, rumors, and financial burdens—as she bravely seeks to rebuild a life for herself and her children. Rejoicing with her, as she finds love and security again… Only to have that joy suddenly snuffed out, as she loses her life to cancer—and her bereaved new husband and children are forced to carry on without her.
And then there are still others—the family that suddenly loses their farm as their business goes under; good people who suddenly see their home burned to the ground in a devastating fire; and the child from my daughter’s kindergarten classroom who tragically drowns. The trusted friend and ministry worker, who ends up in prison after being convicted of child sex-abuse. The beloved Church leaders, who end up in divorce when the wife can no longer bear the pain and hardship accompanying her husband’s debilitating brain disease… And finally, the wincing at hearing whispers, speculations, and gossip that drift about like a silent, deadly poison from within Christian circles… Altogether, it seems enough to drive anyone (with any rudiments of sense) to want to forsake Church-going altogether, and flee to a life of hermitage out in some God-forsaken desert somewhere.
I try to wrap my head around these mind-bending questions (inwardly knowing that I will never reach an answer this side of Heaven), even as I deal with personal struggles. Struggles which, likewise, seem to have no tangible answers or solutions. The monotony of the daily grind, as hard work disappears into apparent failure. The sensation of being a dispensable extra, lost in a social masquerade of perfect actors and smiling facades. The sinking sense of futility, as years of unanswered prayers pass by while the Heavens are silent, and hope has all but died.
In such moments, I find myself (unwillingly) questioning what the point is—if, indeed, there truly is a point to all of this sorrow-filled chaos and madness. And it is then that I hear a voice—an eery resemblance to my own—answering all my trembling fears and heartaches with cold rhetoric that pierces through my very soul:
“There is no God,” it states frankly, “Or if there is, then either He does not care enough, or is not powerful enough to handle the world and lives He unfortunately created.”
And try as I might to shut out the voice of my demons, I cannot deny this one shameful fact: I am a Christian with Atheistic thoughts. And if I struggle to hold onto my Faith today, how can I possibly hold on for another 20 or 50 years? Are my dearly held beliefs nothing more than a Band-Aid-solution, an attempt to hide from the disillusionment of reality? Is Christianity nothing more than a fanciful fairy-tale for blind dreamers, and those belayed with moral scruples?... If Emanuel means “God with us”, then why does it seem as if God has left on vacation, with no apparent intent of returning?
In the midst of my tortured ruminations, I feebly grapple for something—anything—to which I can securely anchor myself: I start with the facts. And the facts make it clear that Jesus of Nazareth was a real historical figure, whose existence and death was corroborated and confirmed by the historians of his day. That is fact, whether you believe the Gospels or not. But even more compelling, perhaps, than even the adamant declarations of his disciples, was the silence of his enemy persecutors following testimonies of his resurrection. The forceful measures they took to ensure that the God-Man would not return to life only added credibility and undeniable proof to the contrary. And what of Jesus himself? If, as the evidence supports, he truly did rise from the dead, then what does that make him?... Simply this: the most powerful man ever to step across the pages of history—a man who was master of his own destiny, Lord over both life and death. That, by itself, is substantial verification that He is more than powerful and capable enough to direct my own life… But can I trust the direction He chooses?
Again my thoughts falter, as I recollect the grisly display of shattered lives and mangled hearts strewn all about me in the Present… They trusted Him too… And look where it got them? Perhaps He doesn’t really care as much as we’d all wanted to believe… What with all the billions of people on the planet, with their trivial little lives and problems, maybe God really does have favorites… Perhaps expecting Him to actually step into my life and bend the cosmos in my favor is just too much to hope for…
I can feel my hope again slipping away, as I plunge into the black void of despair—flailing for something to grab hold of, wondering if I’ll ever see light again. I’ve spent many moments of my life in this Darkness, seemingly falling through time and space for whole seasons at a time.… How long will it last this time? … And why does He take so long to find and rescue me?
Silence…
It’s true, I find myself saying; I really am on my own.
And then through the confusion of all my inner voices, another voice rings out—quiet, gentle, yet strong and firm—
“Child, what does My Word say?”
A plethora of verses instantly tumble through my conscious thoughts like rays of sunlight, some all the way from half forgotten memory. Promises of hope, strength, courage and victory. I reach out with trembling fingers to grab hold, then suddenly pull back.
“But what if they’re not true?” I hear my doubts asking, “What if I can’t really rely on those promises for this specific situation?”
The voice quietly answers:
“You will either believe in all of My promises, or you will believe in none of them. It is simply impossible to believe only half-way.”
“But what if I believe, and it doesn’t turn out as I’ve hoped and prayed?” I quiver.
“Then believe that I know what is best. Believe that I have all power in Heaven and on Earth to turn even your greatest pain into unfathomable blessing, your greatest weakness into overwhelming power, your greatest failure into outstanding victory.”
I consider this a moment… It is true, He does have the power… But will He?
“Child, do you believe what My Word says regarding My unchanging Love for you?”
… This is it. The crux of the matter, the heart of my dilemma. And much as I hate to admit it, I can already hear my doubts answering for me:
“No, I don’t…”
I wish I did…wish I could… But I know myself. And I know that there are far too many shameful and unlovable traits about me—weak tendencies and vices I wish with all my heart I could defy straight into oblivion.
“You must believe,” the voice continues. “If you cannot believe in My Love for you, then you will truly have nothing.”
My mind winds its way through all of the Bible promises I’ve read countless times throughout the years. But in this world, we’re all used to hearing promises. And more often than not, they are forgotten and broken—nothing more than shallow flatteries meant to pacify naïve fools. Or at best, they are nothing but well-meant intentions—which in the end turn up empty and powerless… Why should these promises be any different?... For all I know, the words printed on the pages before me might be nothing more than mere words recorded by men, and not truly God’s words at all. But if that be so, then what am I to do with all of the other prophetic promises from Scripture which have come true, proving themselves to be God’s Word? In particular, what of all the countless prophecies given regarding the Christ—prophecies which one man alone miraculously fulfilled—and against such unpredictable odds that defied mere coincidence and circumstance, and which have baffled historians, mathematicians, and critics alike?
Again I find myself confronted by Jesus—this mysterious being once so familiar to me in the past, but seeming such a stranger to me now. A historic figure shrouded by more than two thousand years of controversy, fables and mysticism; depicted in stained glass murals and displayed by iconic statues; vehemently decried by atheists, and infamously represented by many who claim his name. Who and what was he, and who and what is he to me now?
My mind flashes back to that moment in time two thousand years ago, when a lowly carpenter from nowhere posed this question to his straggling gang of followers:
“Who do you say that I am?”
…Their answer to that question from that moment forth forever changed their lives. It is the same question that has echoed across the centuries, calling out to wise and foolish alike, great philosophers together with the simple minded, it’s frank, simple directness demanding an answer. And now it comes echoing back to me again… What will I do with Jesus of Nazareth?
The answer is clear—to reject Jesus would be contrary to sound reason and logic. And if I must accept Him, then I must also accept everything He said about Himself—His claims to be the long awaited Savior of the world, and His staunch support of all the previous books of the Bible as recorded in the Old Testament. I must accept His claim of Himself as being God Incarnate, along with His (God’s) recorded promises throughout the whole of Scripture… I must accept and believe all of them. That He is all-powerful, all-knowing, and unchanging. That He is the very soul of Love itself—even when all I see and feel seems to blatantly defy this.
Again I hear the whisper:
"I will never leave you nor forsake you... I will be with you always, even to the very end of all things."
Lord, help me in my unbelief, I hear myself whisper in a hushed prayer.
The words to an old and much beloved hymn come drifting back to me:
O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s a light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
His Word shall not fail you—He promised;
Believe Him, and all will be well:
Then go to a world that is dying,
His perfect salvation to tell!
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
…There it is. Hope again flickers in my turmoil of darkness. No, it is not the much longed for light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel… But it is light enough to help me find my way, until I come to it.
—C.A. CLARK, Copyright ©
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