I posted this a while back, lost my database (again), and want to preserve it.

A strange kind certainty was commonplace in the tradition in which I was raised. Perhaps the kind of certainty you’ve seen. A kind of confidence with two prongs:

On the one hand I would often think, “Wow!? How do they… how can he be so sure?” And for months and years in my teens and twenties I tried this confidence on like tailor-made clothes. The trouble is that they were made for someone else. At times I felt tremendous guilt that those clothes didn’t fit. And the second prong of this unholy two-horned beast can be understood simply by “Really? You can’t be serious.”

As I’m sitting here thinking about this I remember two examples of this kind of monolithic certainty. I don’t believe these statements, paraphrased here, exaggerate or falsely represent the sentiment: “I came to Christ and I never looked back” and “I have never doubted.”

There were many times that I wondered how that could ever be my story. How could I become so certain. And so I punished myself by indulging guilt, a pointless pleasure. And when self-loathing had reached its fevered pitch and the religious crowd confirmed my stupidity and ineptitude I quit. Enough was enough. And damn! I was angry.

Anger followed me around until I quit again. That was it. I dumped the ministry. Ministry with airquotes. And what an odd experience that was. And after a long while you can imagine how ironic it felt when I sensed that Jesus standing there. If prayer had been a literal conversation he might have said “Hi. Whatcha doing?” “Wha… what are you doing here?” And Jesus may have posed, “Nothing really. I just noticed you quit.”

And some of you know what it’s like to live in this strange new place. “To hell with it all. I quit.” And life unexpectedly starts to feel different. It’s as though God is as relieved as you. And your faith starts trending in a helpful direction.

You’re not really sure where it will all lead and maybe you, like I, don’t really care. But you know Father in Christ is good. Really good. Generous. And this whole walk-with-Him bit starts to feel hopeful. It’s not the kind of hope that implies a sense of control over life or faith. Much of it feels out of control. No more precise theology. Just a sense that something good is happening in the nature and character of God and you’re happy to be along for the ride. And you might hear him whisper, “I love you.” And through tears you say, “I love you back.”