Faith Mourned (Raw II)

I mourn the faith that I used to have.

I read what others have to say about their trust in God and I become sad. I still consider myself a Christian. I still have faith in saving grace. But that’s about the extent of it.

I used to have mounds of mountain moving faith. Now I can’t muster up a mustard seed.

When finances were tight, I knew God would come through. I had no doubt that he wouldn’t leave us begging for bread. I always gave more than a tithe without hesitation. Now I more than hesitate.

When life sucked, I was certain that I was going to be fine and I would continue to grow through it. Because I was a devoted seeker of Christ. Trials, perseverance, wisdom, peace, joy…faith. Someday it would all be worth it. Yet, life continued to basically suck. Maybe I’d have to wait until heaven.

My faith wavered when I was taught that the way out of depression and over past abuse was to love with abandon. They said it was sin to withhold it. I was told to be authentic with my emotions, to express them honestly in love. I tried. I believed that my obedience and faith would finally bring peace and change.

But the abuse continued. My depression deepened. Spiritual Leadership betrayed me. My faith died.

My faith died a cruel, tortured death. And I mourn. Every time I see someone else’s faith, I miss mine. My heart is sad that it can no longer believe that everything will just work out somehow.

Maybe it’s good, in a way. I am now more pro-active in bettering myself and my life. That’s where my hope lies now. I am forming some kind of intellectual faith, I guess. Blind faith – long gone. At least I am now in a place of authenticity like never before. I’m figuring out who I am outside the confines of church definitions. Perhaps my faith before was something I hid behind so I wouldn’t have to deal with the scary nitty gritty. Maybe a new kind will grow in me. I just don’t know.

I just don’t know.