This
Sunday, February 4th, I will resume my focus on “Finding God in Everyday Life.” I believe that we sometimes have difficulty
experiencing the Divine in everyday life because we are not actively seeking God’s
presence in the ordinary. Over the past
few weeks, we have been exploring the ways in which we can become more open and
sensitive to God’s presence in our everyday lives. This week our focus shifts somewhat as we
explore finding God in doubt. In these circumstances, we may be actually
searching for God—or, at least seeking some fleeting evidence of God’s
existence. Yet, despite our best
intentions, God seems aloof or—perhaps—absent altogether.
We begin to doubt God’s
existence. Or, we encounter the
hypocrisy, greed, and sinfulness of God’s Church and the self-proclaimed
faithful who call themselves “Christians.”
Under these circumstances we begin to question whether or not a God of
love and peace would tolerate such apostasy.
Since God seems to tolerate specifically anti-Christian attitudes and
behaviors in the Church, we question whether there really is a “God.”
This
is a difficult exploration, which is not easily presented in a worship
setting. I have struggled with how to
develop this question in a sermon.
Ultimately, I decided that the best I can do is to simply tell my story
of doubt and then how I re-claimed my Christian faith. I grew up in a small Southern town which was religiously
quite homogeneous. Everyone in my small
town was either Methodist, Presbyterian, or Baptist. There were really no other options—just these
three mainline Protestant denominations.
Further, pretty much everyone in town attended one of these three
churches; there was a sparse handful of people who did not regularly attend one
of the churches. So, as I grew older, I
did not really question my Christian faith that deeply. I just more or less took it for granted.
After
graduating from high school, I matriculated to a very diverse, cosmopolitan university. In that context, I quickly encountered people
who were religiously very different from me: Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus,
as well as agnostics and atheists and persons exploring indigenous spirituality. I soon developed friendships with other
students who had very different faiths—or, no religious faith at all.
Over time, I began to see
my Christian faith differently. I took
advantage of the University’s Department of Religion to study other
religions. Jainism, in particular, made
an impression on me. Some of my studies challenged
my faith, such as the claim by Karl Marx that “Religion is the opium of the
people.” Some of my new friends were not
at all hesitant to critique my Christian faith.
I became acutely aware of how Christianity falls far short of the lofty
ideals taught by Christ Jesus. For the
first time, I began to see clearly the hypocrisy, greed, and sinfulness rampant
in the Christian Church—and especially among many Christians who proclaimed—even
bragged about—how devout they were. I
began to doubt whether God even existed.
By the fall semester of my Sophomore year, I had become an atheist.
For
the next three semesters, I was something of an atheist. Oh, I continued to dabble in religion. I took some more college courses. I especially loved ethics. There were also those occasional moments when
I had a deep spiritual experience, which didn’t jibe with my intellectual
position of atheism. For instance,
sometimes when I was running in the forest, I would be overcome with a
spiritual feeling of being in harmony with Creation. These were small, first steps back to my
Christian faith.
The
big step came when a professor suggested that I read Gustavo Gutierrez’ book, A Theology of Liberation, which had just
been translated into English. Gutierrez,
a Peruvian priest who had a doctorate in theology, argued that God makes a
preferential option for the poor, oppressed, and marginalized people within our
midst. Although God loves all people,
God makes a preferential option for those who are suffering the most, just as a
parent will devote extra care and attention to a sick child, temporarily
elevating the sick child and their care above their other healthy
children. Building upon this theological
claim about God, Gutierrez argued that faithful followers of Christ must give
special attention to those who are hungry, homeless, poor, or oppressed. This attention could not simply be acts of
charity, as important as these acts are.
Instead, Christians must analyze and work for structural change in the
socio-economic system which held the poor and exploited down.
For
me, A Theology of Liberation was
transformative. It offered me a bridge back to the Christian
faith. I began to see that Christianity
did not have to be a trite, clichéd opium, which kept us from focusing on what
is really important in life. Instead, it
offered a lifestyle and an avenue for genuinely changing the socio-economic
structures so that justice, abundance, peace, and love all grew and flourished. Gutierrez’ book helped me see Christian faith
from a completely different perspective:
not as an “opium for the people,” but rather as a potent, potential
force for peace, justice, and the flourishing of all persons—and of Creation.
Gradually,
little-by-little, my faith began to be restored. However, it was not the same Christian faith
as my childhood. Now, my faith was much
deeper, much more fully examined, much more nuanced, much more mature—and, much
stronger. Looking back on this process, I can see how much my Christian faith
grew as a result of my doubt.
More profoundly, I can see how I experienced God in the process; not in
a manipulative way, but rather as never abandoning me throughout my journey of doubt.
As I grew through my
reclaimed Christian faith, I began to read passages of scripture from a
different perspective. One of the more
dramatic shifts in my perspective occurred in my reading and understanding of
Isaiah 6: 6-8. In this chapter, we hear the “call story” of
how Isaiah was called by God to become a prophet:
Then one of the seraphs flew to me,
holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my
mouth with it and said: ‘Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has
departed and your sin is blotted out.’ Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I
send, and who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I; send me!’
Now,
instead of reading this text as just the account of how God called Isaiah to
his prophetic mission, I began to see this as a question which God was asking
me. That is, literally, God was asking
me: “Whom shall I send? Richard, will you go?” And, I saw myself replying, “Here am I; send
me!” And so, I moved from doubting God’s
existence to believing that God had given me a special call to help with the work
of establishing the Kingdom of God. As
my faith deepened over the years, I have come to see that God’s call is not
restricted to just Isaiah—or, just me.
No. Instead, God calls each of us
to the task of establishing God’s Reign by working for justice, peace, and the
flourishing of all Creation. Each of the
faithful has a special, unique role to play in creating the socio-economic
structures needed so that everyone experiences justice, abundance,
peace, justice, and love.
If
you live in the Lincoln, Nebraska area and do not have a place of worship, then
I invite you to come and join us at Christ United Methodist Church this Sunday,
February 4th, as we explore how we can experience the Divine in everyday
life. In addition, to my proclamation,
others from our church will share how they experience the Divine through
parenting, how they experience the Divine even in the midst of doubt, and how
they experience the Divine through their work as an attorney. Christ UMC is located at 4530 “A” Street in
Lincoln, Nebraska. Our two traditional
Worship Services are at 8:30 and 11:00 on Sunday morning.
