Doubt: Where to Start, Where to Go

My relationship with God has been stuck in the “it’s complicated” status for quite a while now. Sometimes He and I are not on speaking terms; sometimes we really have it out. One day I’m wrestling, another day I’m apathetic. As is common with troubled relationships, I can’t seem to track down when it started, or even why. 

This fall City Church hosted a Sunday Formation class called Jesus and Our Doubt. When I first saw it announced in the bulletin, I had mixed reactions. Part of me hoped to find answers for the areas in my faith where I have been disenchanted lately; the other part of me dreaded that I would attend the class and leave feeling even more confused, ashamed, and discouraged by my lack of belief. 

Well, I didn’t get all my questions answered. But I did walk away with an assortment of tools—not to eradicate my doubt but to trudge forward with more hope and less shame. 

Here are two of them:

If you are out of steam in your faith, start there. 

I keep coming back to this question: What do I do with all this? Right now, in the midst of my doubt and discouragement, how do I move forward? I was talking to my husband George about it the other day.

“Any time I sit down to do a ‘regular’ quiet time, it just feels like pretending,” I vented. “I can’t read the Bible and pray in the way that I used to because there is all this turmoil going on inside. It’s like when you’re in an argument with someone but then another person walks into the room—so you change the subject and act like everything’s fine. You just pretend, and then find a way to get out of there.” 

“I think it’s fine to just stay there,” George said. 

“Pretending?”

“No, stay in your argument. It’s ok if that’s all it is between you and God right now.”

If all you have is questions, go to the Father with them. Search the Scriptures and allow God’s Word to defend itself. I frequently pass up the opportunity to open my Bible because I don’t want to face the disappointment in myself about how numb I am to the Gospel. I don’t pray because I’m too ashamed of the fact that I don’t really believe that God cares to listen. 

But you know what? God is not disappointed in me. Let me repeat that: God is not disappointed in me. He loves me, and He can handle my weakness, my confusion, even my anger at Him. Psalm 103 says, “For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.” That’s a pretty low expectation. I’m surprised by my doubt because I thought better of myself—I was under the impression that my faith was much more impressive, more steadfast, more profound than it actually is. But God, who made me and knows my frailty, is neither surprised nor disheartened by my doubts and apathy. He sees me and replies, “Come...he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” (Isaiah 55:1)

My wayward, confused, and doubting soul is exactly what Jesus came for—that was the whole point: not just to pay for my sins, but to then provide me with His Spirit who helps me in my weakness and intercedes on my behalf (Romans 8:26). So, go to Him with whatever you have. Anger, apathy, unbelief: no need to rally yourself. He welcomes you as you are. “I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him.” (Psalm 142:2) 

When doubts press in, use your tribe. 

Doubt feels a whole lot like loneliness, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. Find someone who you can talk with about it. I often hesitate to name my doubt because I worry that voicing it will give it more power. In the meantime, my silent wrestling chokes my faith and drowns my mind in despair. As intimidating as it initially feels, it is the vulnerability of a conversation with a friend, a pastor, or a counselor that helps me realize that I am not alone, and provides clarity to navigate the tumult in my mind. 

Friends, let’s not avoid this uncomfortable place. Let’s step into the ring. Let’s plant our feet in each other’s corners and, alongside the Spirit and the Word, “fight the good fight.” It may last for a week, a year, even a lifetime. Our Father isn’t going to give up on us, and neither is our church family. 

So, on the Sunday afternoons when you are standing in worship and are too discouraged to sing, just listen. Let the sound of your fellow sojourners wash over you and lift your heart’s gaze to the Originator of hope. When the Bible feels dry and irrelevant, just watch. Let the sight of tears in Meg’s eyes as she uncovers echoes of the Gospel from an obscure Old Testament passage slowly start to soften your heart to He who is the Word. When you are so discouraged by the same struggle that you can’t muster the words to pray anymore, just sit. Let the prayers of a friend at City Group bring renewed endurance and hope in the One who hears. 

“Though afflicted, tempest-tossed,
Comfortless awhile thou art,
Do not think thou canst be lost,
Thou art graven on my heart.
All thy walls I will repair,
Thou shalt be rebuilt anew,
And in thee it shall appear,
What a God of love can do.” 

(“Pensive, Doubting, Fearful Heart” , Red Mountain Church)