Questions and No Answers
When I was about 6 years old, I remember riding in the car with my parents. I can’t remember where we were going, only that we passed the church we attended every Sunday. Something inside me prompted the question,
“how do we know we are right?”
I giggle when I remember this. I was referring to our church and Jesus and all of it…My mom and dad faithfully had me in Sunday School and taught me all of the things good parents were supposed to teach their kids. They probably did not expect me to question any of it. I don’t remember my parents response to my question, only that it must have been enough to keep me from spiraling at age 6. The question, however, remained buried in my subconscious. For the rest of my later childhood I would sporadically ask my parents other questions like,
“if there are chosen people of God, how can anyone choose Him? Can anyone choose Him?”
I do remember my dad’s response to this one. He shook his head and laughed a little and said something like, “that’s the mystery, isn’t it?” This was not sufficient for me. I didn’t like the idea of my parents not even knowing the answer. I wrestled with this for a while. All Christians believed the same thing, right? I loved God and didn’t want to anger Him with my questions. I decided to just not think about it any more. It seemed that those around me were able to lay it all down easily, so I must do the same to be a good Christian. I shoved this question down, along with lots of others.
Fast-forward to my early 20s. I had completely fallen into the belief system of an extreme reformed theology (or Calvanism), thinking every other theological approach was absolutely stupid and wrong. I remember carrying that belief system like a badge of superiority. Thinking every other Christian who didn’t see things the way I did… well, God will show them the error in their thinking someday. The funny thing? I didn’t even fully understand it. I just knew of popular Christians, who I looked up to at the time, that claimed that brand of theology mixed with right wing politics…
“It must be the only way!”
I remember exactly where I was when this all came crashing down for me. My facade of knowing it all and being smarter than everyone I knew came to an end. My husband and I were on our couch in our tiny one bedroom apartment, watching church from home in 2020. Our pastor, who we love, was preaching on election and said:
“I’m sorry to all the Calvinists in the room, but I’m just not one of you. I’m maybe a 3 or 4 pointer.”
*crickets*
I had to turn the TV off. A thought, similar to the one I had as a little girl, came to my head. I thought,
“How do I know what is true? How can Christians disagree on such an important topic? How do I know the Bible is true?”
What came after that was a season on deep doubt and wrestling. Since I am also prone to experiencing anxiety, panic attacks, and depression, this season was mixed with getting on and off a few meds, therapy and a lot of extra support from wise Christians in my life. It sounds so simple to say it like that… just to be able to type the last 3 years of my life out in a casual and brief way. In reality, it was the darkest time. Therapy is excruciating. Meds? My body had all the horrible side affects on the bottle. Owning my faith for myself, learning why I believe, wrestling with past traumas and childhood pain in therapy, and coping with the excruciatingly painful medication decisions… This all made for a really tough few years. My mom has always said that your 20s are the hardest years because you are finding out who you are and what you believe in. For me, this couldn't be more true.
Soon I will speak out about all I have gone through in this space. The specific questions I wrestled with, the hurting loss, panic attacks and mental health struggles…
I would like your opinion:
Thank you for being here. It’s wild that even one of you would choose to read my words.
Shelby