Faith (and Advanced Reader Copies)
I love that so many are in the process of thinking and re-thinking their faith. It’s necessary. Despite what the Americanized-Christianized-Religious folks say, when the world changes, our faith has to change with it. That’s the way it’s always been. Always will be.
Faith isn’t opposed to maturation.
It doesn’t have to be a sign that we’ve “compromised” or “caved into culture” when we change our minds, evolve or begin to process things differently; rather, it could be a sign that we’re growing up and are capable of making decisions on our own. And yes, our faith is like a rock, but less like a rock upon which everything certain rests and more like a rock upon which all our certainty breaks.
My own “maturation” has been challenging and beautiful, painful and holy. It started about 10-12 years ago with a commitment: read only dead guys. Yeah, I just kept noticing it was writing from previous generations that I most resonated with, and as I was completely fed up with all the leadership-oriented, mega-church, consumer-driven theology I had ingested by that point, I was more than ready for something different.
So, for a season, I only read dead guys (Okay, at the least, very old guys). Howard Thurman, Dostoevsky, Augustine, Rene Girard, Ellie Wiesel, James Baldwin, Dorothy Day, T.S. Elliot, on and on. Yeah, it changed me. Or maybe, more accurately, it allowed for the change. Maybe like dynamite is laced into a building about to be imploded, so my life was laced with little bits of theology, psychology, insight, and pathos. As the 2010s progressed, the charges started going off with various intensities. And then, on New Year’s Day, 2015, the implosion was fully catalyzed with the news that our oldest had died in a car wreck.
I’ve often thought that maybe there are two general responses to trauma: one takes you deep into the shadows of a love marked by sovereignty, fundamentalism, and control… the other invites you into the blazing light of a love marked by indeterminacy, freedom, and beauty.
Thank God I went in the latter direction and not the former. Which served to open up spaces within me, give me room to wrestle with “my beliefs.” I don’t have it all figured out. I’m not always right, but a part of my wrestling has taken shape inside of some short fictional stories I’ve been writing in the last couple of years. This proves once again that I do not write because I have answers; I write because I have questions. Questions about the powers, scapegoating, sacrifice, religion, philosophy, love… I think, in particular, love.
I don’t pretend that these question-inspired fictional stories are worthy of being mentioned alongside any of the authors I’ve mentioned in this post, so please don’t misread me there, but I have found the process to be meaningful. (Oh, and I recognize that if you emulate my practice, you probably shouldn’t even be reading me. Because I’m not yet dead! Although, I am rapidly approaching “very old.”) Anyhow, things happened–stuff unlocked, space opened, light shined–as I was writing this stuff. And who knows, maybe as they’re read, something similar will happen to others?
If you’ve read this far, you might be interested in getting an advanced reader copy and providing some initial feedback before the stories hit the digital bookstores later in the summer. In that case, sign up for the newsletter here on this site, or partner up with me at Patreon, and we’ll make this happen together.
Speaking of making this happen together… that is what’s happening with all the faith-shift that’s going on in our world. We’re writing new stories together. Evolving our faith. Maturing. It’s good. And necessary. And while much has changed, one thing has remained constant: love. I think it’s with us every step of the way.
