On Doubting (I wish I could turn off my brain)

Wasn't everyone supposed to know? This was the basis of our faith. If I didn't understand why Jesus died on the cross by now, something was wrong with me. I had grown up in the church, surely this would soon click and make sense.

Questions pounded in my head like waves, but the fear of being known kept me from speaking up. 

For seven years I contained the things I died to ask, the questions that led to my doubts. 

Last weekend Todd and I went to a movie called Blue Like Jazz.

 (The book is better, but that's the way it always goes). 

The gist: 

Donald Miller (author) grows up a Southern Baptist, he moves out to Portland Oregon to attend Reed College, ends up losing his faith the first year and then comes back around. He learns how to live in a culture that rejects his faith and he even goes as far as apologizing to those on campus for how Christians have done so much damage. 

We left and the doubt pounded in, much like it used to, except now I process out loud with Todd. 

"I know God is real, I've experienced Him in my life and I feel Him, but when it comes to explaining that to someone else, mainly those who think I'm crazy for my beliefs I have no idea how to do that, how can you explain something you cannot see, I feel like I would be trying to convince someone of something not there, I know He is in my heart but I don't know how to convey that to others." I said. 

"Kelsey, it isn't your job to convince someone that this is real, they either accept it or they don't, that doesn't rest on you." 

"But can we be so sure of this, like 100%? Or is that what makes this faith?" 

"Whether you believe in God or not it's faith either way."

(Please say you think on these things too)  

I love him, that he'll listen and remind me these thoughts are okay, I used to shame myself so hard for thinking them, it's nice to be able to vocalize it when they roll in. 

Then the doubts crept in another way. The insecurity type doubt, the who reads my words kind. The realization that those who knew me from High School might find themselves here. Wondering what they must think of me now.

Because if you have found yourself here... you know all the things I've done. Do you judge me a little now? Or even think I am real? If these are your thoughts I understand because I've done nothing to earn your trust or approval.

On Sunday, a man shared his story. It began with drinking in middle school, marijuana in Jr. High and then cocaine in High School. His life began to spiral, to the point of cooking meth and running from the police. 

He was on the Missouri most wanted list and wanted in Arkansas for another set of crimes. He broke down one night, completely empty and spoke out loud "God, if you want me to go to prison I am ready." He was found the next morning and then began his journey of restoration. 

He is now married and holds a high up position at a well respected company. 

I was reminded that it's our stories of redemption that point to God, who I am now and who I was is not the same person. It's crazy and weird and I can't fully understand it. But I am most definitely different and the only thing I can attribute that to is Jesus. 

I don't have a magic set of words to tell you and you could probably murder me with science. I am okay with that, I loathed the subject anyways.

Neither can I convince you, but if you are willing and want to hear it I can tell you my story. 

I've got time if you do.

-Kels 

 P.S. Saturday's doubts make for a beautiful Sunday, not all for naught.