Faithful Paradox

I had one of those afternoons recently where I was mindlessly scrolling. I was weary and worn, out of energy to engage people, and really just wanting to check out. As tends to happen in these times, I followed a rabbit hole and stumbled across a friend’s social media page; a friend from a lifetime ago. She was one who was very dear in a season of life where friendship was scarce. Sadly, we have grown apart and fallen out of touch for more than a decade now.

As I scrolled through some of her photos, it became apparent that the friend I knew and loved had transformed into a different person. At one time she was one whose faith I admired and longed to imitate. Now the things she seems to celebrate and boast about are radically different from the core pieces of faith we once shared. I found myself deeply grieved as I looked through her photos, wondering what happened to the godly, influential woman who impacted me so deeply in a foundational season of life.

I certainly do not know her heart nor the hardships she has walked. I have not had contact with her for years and do not know what may have caused her to drift away from the faith we once shared. My heart is not one of judgement toward her but rather, sadness. Her photos seem to communicate one who is untethered from the Vine, living for the momentary pleasures this world has to offer.

I’ve thought a lot about my friend over the last week. I’m deeply curious about her life; about the path her journey has taken her. While I clearly do not know the details of her story, nor do I know the pains and grief she has borne, I do know that rarely, if ever, is drifting away from faith a sudden rebellion. Rather, it is usually a slow, silent erosion of convictions and beliefs, often affected by separation from spiritual community.

When we are confronted with the sorrows and suffering life has to offer, there are often decisions made along the way which deeply impact the outcome of the journey. One of the first critical decisions is that of community. When trials come and faith feels difficult, will I seek out the voices of those who will tell me what is good for my soul or will I listen to the voices that affirm what feels good in the moment? As difficult as it may be, finding a community that cares most about your soul and your eternity, rather than a community that affirms your momentary comfort is critical in every season, but especially in the times when life is difficult.

When God doesn’t meet our expectations, these places of grief and disappointment are often where the enemy begins to plant seeds of doubt about God’s care and character. When these seeds of doubt are left unchecked and start to grow, they can begin to erode the foundational pieces of faith.

As difficult as it is, genuine faith is formed and revealed in the crucible of suffering, yet it is critical that when in the crucible, one remains within the context of Christian community. Suffering must be endured with voices that will always point our weary, questioning hearts toward the truth that is a, “sure and steadfast anchor of the soul” (Hebrews 6:19).

There are countless times in the midst of hardship where we are confronted with faith that feels untrue in light of the suffering we are enduring. Promises from Scripture may feel hollow. God doesn’t always act in ways we thought he should or desire he would. These times, however, are not times to question and turn from what God has promised. While we may feel disillusioned by life’s difficulties, the paradox of the crucible is that wrestling through these sorrows and doubts while staying tethered to God’s word and his people will eventually lead to a deeper, more refined faith, even if the journey is deeply disorienting.

Much of the faith I have held in the last several years has left me feeling disillusioned. It has felt confusing and painful. The God I thought I knew left me feeling disappointed. Through this disappointment, however, I have realized the God I thought I knew was actually a god I had pieced together based on what felt good and was within my control. It has been in the space of closely held community, tethered to the truth of God’s word, that I have worked through much of this pain and disappointment. Precious friends have listened and pointed me to truth over and over. They have cared for my soul as they have tended my broken heart.

The Apostle Peter assures his readers, “though now, for a little while if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials so that the tested genuineness of your faith – more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire – may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:6-7). Part of the testing and struggle is intended to burn off that which is impure and untested. Yet as the impurities are burned off we need the voices of faithful saints to name the beauty of what is still left when all we can see are the black ashes of devastation and destruction.

I hope to reconnect with this friend. I want to hear her story; to understand what has led to her stepping away from the faith she once held. I’m not sure if this opportunity will arise or not and pray it may come about. What I do know is that God is not finished writing her story. There is still work to be done, more to be burned off in the crucible, and that there is great hope.