The soul can split the sky in two, and
let the face of God shine through.
—EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
I was raised in church.
Not literally, of course, but very nearly so. My parents had me and my four siblings at church every Sunday morning and evening as well as for midweek services. If there was a church event, we were there.
Subsequently, I was raised with about 15 sets of parents. Divorce was virtually unheard of, and many parents felt freedom to speak into my life. To say I felt loved and close to these many families is an understatement.
As if that were not enough faith to pour into us, we were also expected to attend church camps during the summer. Church and God were an integral part of my DNA.
There was no clear beginning or end to church life, God, or worship. God was to be revered and worshipped. That’s just the way it was. I don’t know whether I felt God’s unique and distinct presence or if God was just part of the family. Like the air I breathed, it never occurred to me to question God’s presence.
My Parents’ Faith
My parents had a strong and abiding faith that deeply influenced me. Like osmosis, their faith was my faith. In addition to church attendance, family devotions, and prayer at meals, their faith was mine until sometime in my adolescence.
I remember being a reflective, angst-filled teenager. In addition to questioning my appearance, my social skills, friends, and girls (sex), I began to distinguish my faith from my parents’ faith.
I began to doubt. I doubted a lot.
My pastor, Carleton Peterson, made himself available for my ceaseless questioning. He patiently entertained my questions about prayer, the Trinity, Christ’s death and resurrection, and other perturbing issues. I visited with him hour after hour, questioning everything pertaining to Christianity.
Pastor Peterson never forced his beliefs on me. He created space for me to think, doubt, question, and slowly arrive at my own faith. My parents did a wonderful job of allowing me room to doubt, and Pastor Peterson helped me navigate these murky waters.
My father believed what he believed, having sorted out his theological doubts years earlier. My mother was a deeper thinker. She had a quiet, firm grip on her faith.
In a most poignant moment, nearing the end of her life, I remember asking her about her readiness for death.
With her most loving and tender smile, the kind a knowing mother bestows on a son, she softly quoted 2 Timothy 1:12: “I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto Him against that day.”
Oh, that I could sit with her just once more, hold her frail hands, and hear her echo those reassuring words!
Soul-Searching
With all my parents’ teaching, guiding, and directing, I arrived at the place we must all arrive: You cannot have your parents’ faith. It just doesn’t work that way. If one could adopt their parents’ faith, I certainly could have and would have done it because it would have been much easier.
But faith, by its very nature, is personal.
There are seasons of life when we are more inclined to do our soul-searching, and for me adolescence was that time. Adolescence is typically a stage of life when we throw off all that has been handed down to us and begin searching for our individuality.
That is certainly what happened to me. Adolescence was my first major crisis of faith. Adolescence is a time of crisis—a time of soul-searching. Those reading this book will also recognize your current season of life, when your bodies and minds are wracked with stress, as another crisis and a soul-searching period.
At two crisis points in my life I wondered who God was, where He was, and what in the world He was doing.
The first was adolescence, where nothing of the Christian faith made sense to me. Praying to a God I could not see, touch, or feel? Nonsense. Three persons in One? Nonsense. Trusting in this God to lead and guide me through the tumultuous times of puberty? Nonsense.
But I navigated through this troubled time with the caring direction of a pastor who had the good sense to simply listen. I came to believe that there actually could be a God who designed the universe, that there could be a holy Trinity, and that prayer could actually connect me to this mystery.
My second major crisis came with my divorce in 2001. Rejected by my wife, my church, and others claiming to be “loving, caring Christians,” I questioned the church more than I questioned God. What happened to the loving, embracing, caring community I had known as the church?
I navigated this treacherous path with my faith intact, albeit tarnished a little. I discovered others who felt rejected by formal religion. I was reminded that people will be people—some good, some not so good. I found love from others in many different places, and my faith in God and humanity was restored. I searched for, and found, other caring, embracing communities of faith.
Shelly
Shelly hasn’t fared as well when it comes to restored faith, and I can hardly blame her.
Fifty years old and married her entire adult life to Earl, Shelly came for her session seeking help for her faltering marriage. She immediately shared her feelings.
“I don’t really have much hope left for my marriage,” she began. “I’m not even sure why I’m here.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Earl is ‘old school,’ ” she began, looking at a few notes she brought with her. “He’s loved in our church and is there for every service. He helps in every way, from driving the kids’ bus to mowing the lawn. He’ll do anything for the pastor but does next to nothing for me.”
“Please continue,” I said.
“I don’t know if we love each other anymore,” she said. “We are dedicated to each other, because that’s what Christians do. We’re just sticking in there and staying married no matter how we feel inside. But I’ve got a few good years left and I’m not at all sure I want to spend them with him. I’ve begun wondering if life would be better alone or with someone else.”
“Why isn’t Earl with you for this appointment?” I asked.
Shelly laughed.
“He would never go to counseling,” she said. “He says that all our problems can be solved with prayer. If it can’t be solved with prayer, he says, it isn’t really a problem and I should just get over it.”
“My goodness,” I exclaimed. “That is hard to argue against.”
“You’re telling me,” she said. “I can’t argue with him. He’s got a scripture for every problem and can talk his way out of anything. He won’t accept criticism and turns every problem back on me. His bottom line is that I should pray more and be a better Christian. Furthermore, if I were a good Christian, he says, I’d be content and never upset him.”
She paused, cleared her throat, and continued.
“He makes a pretty good case for himself, pointing the blame at me for all our problems. He quotes Scripture on being content in all our circumstances, and that one really guilt-induces me. Then he even threatens to have our pastor talk to me, as if I’m being a nagging wife by wanting more communication and emotional connection. I want him to take responsibility for the harsh ways he treats me, but that isn’t going to happen.”
“Sounds like his guilt-tripping works,” I said.
“Oh, it works all right, and he works it,” she said resentfully. “He knows what he’s doing, and I resent him even more for doing it. But right along with my resentment comes my guilt. Along with my guilt come my headaches and heartaches. I’m more anxious than I’ve ever been and more and more unhappy.”
Shelly is one of many women who are caught in the throes of distorted Christianity. Her husband uses Scripture to manipulate her. He believes in the scriptures he’s quoting and in the direction he wants his wife to take.
Faith Healing
Shelly is in a very complex and challenging situation. Her husband’s words are confusing to her: Part prophetic, part inspirational, part true, and part false.
“We are to be content in all circumstances,” Shelly told me. “That’s a true scripture. But does that mean I have to accept the way Earl preaches at me but doesn’t really live out what it means to love me well?”
She paused again.
“He is always challenging me to be happy and that the Lord doesn’t want me to be in emotional and physical pain. He actually believes physical pain may be punishment from the Lord for my attitude. Is he right?”
“No, Shelly,” I said. “He is distorting Scripture. He’s taking some truths and mixing them with his own theology and perspective.”
“I don’t know what to do with the scripture that says, ‘We know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them’ ” (Romans 8:28 NLT).
“Could it be that God does work everything for our good, but that doesn’t mean He makes all things happen the way they do?” I said. “We have free will. Certainly Earl is acting in ways that are contrary to many scriptures.”
Shelly is trying valiantly to unravel a most difficult puzzle. Earl is like many men, using their positions and gender to overpower their mates. He uses his knowledge of Scripture to manipulate her. Like many women, Shelly is vulnerable and trying to make sense of it all. Meanwhile, she suffers emotionally and physically.
Out of Context
Earl may be a very good man, but he is taking Scripture out of context and using it to manipulate, and that is emotionally abusive. Not only is it emotional abuse, but it is also spiritual abuse.
It is no wonder Shelly is confused and suffering spiritually, emotionally, and physically. She is working far harder than she should to make sense out of her world. Rather than being a place of refuge, her faith has now added an additional component of confusion to her already confusing world.
To make matters worse, Shelly must ferret out the truth of Scripture from the twists and turns her husband uses to make Scripture say what he wants it to say. This is largely what makes it spiritual and emotional abuse.
Talking about emotional abuse in the Christian community, Elisabeth Corcoran writes in her article “Emotional Abuse in Marriage” that Christians often look at emotional abuse as different from physical violence. She notes that many mates, as well as friends in church, tell the emotionally abused woman to suck it up and pray more. She notes that any attempt to induce fear, guilt, or shame in a mate is emotionally abusive and should not be tolerated.1
Fighting against the harsh words of an abusive husband is one thing, but wrestling with God makes matters even more complicated.
“How do I know if my husband is messing with my mind?” Shelly added. “All his words make sense on some level. The result is always me feeling worse.”
“That is the biggest clue,” I said. “His words should edify you, Shelly, not tear you down. His words should bring encouragement and clarity, not discouragement and confusion.”
“That makes sense to me,” she said. “Still, it’s hard to fight against God.”
“You don’t have to fight against God,” I said. “Seek the truth in everything, and you will know what to do.”
Thankfully, Shelly is a strong woman and she knows there is something amiss in what her husband is saying to her. While she has yet to determine what exactly is right, she knows what he is doing is wrong.
Toxic Faith
Shelly’s faith, through no fault of her own, added a layer of problems for her. Her faith, again through no fault of her own, has become toxic. What had been a source of life and health for her was now tainted—her husband had brought something unhealthy into something pure and good.
Why do I say her faith has become toxic? Because she now is confused about her faith, believing she should never doubt God’s love for her and believing if she were a better Christian she would have immediate peace and answers to all her prayers.
Stephen Arterburn writes about the beliefs of those who use God for profit, power, pleasure, or prestige—qualities of Shelly’s husband!
Arterburn might say both Shelly and her husband, Earl, have symptoms of toxic faith. He describes the following symptoms of toxic faith:
• Conditional love. Believing God’s love and favor depend on one’s own behavior. This leads to a faith in one’s self rather than a faith in God.
• Instant peace. Believing one should have instant peace regardless of one’s circumstances. While our faith certainly offers us a “peace that passes understanding,” we are also human and experience all the emotions that come with our various challenges.
• Guaranteed healing. Believing that our faith should bring healing. One’s faith doesn’t dictate that God must heal anyone. We cannot control God with our prayers.
• Spiteful god. Believing our problems are the result of some particular sin. All problems, of course, are not a result of sin. Pain is often a result of sin but not a punishment for something we’ve done or not done. Problems result from poor decisions as well as living in a broken world.
• Irrational submission. Believing we must always submit to authority. This has been particularly thorny for Shelly, who believes she should not only submit to her abusive husband but also to pastors who covertly and at times overtly support his power.
• Passivity. Believing that true faith means waiting for God to help and doing nothing until He does. This belief leads many to wait and wait rather than taking responsibility for making changes in their life.
• Pollyanna perspective. Believing everything that happens must be for our good. We must come to see that God allows bad things to happen, but not all that happens is necessarily good for us.
• Vindictive god. Believing God “hates sinners, is angry with me, and wants to punish me.” While God may allow dire consequences to occur, He is not vindictive.2
As you can see, Shelly needs to sort out truth from lies, helpful information from distortions. She will likely need expert help in determining truth from fiction.
Healing from Spiritual Abuse
Shelly has some work to do, discerning the truths of what God has to say to her from the false notions concocted by her husband. Her journey is one many women are forced to take.
Sadly, no one can really recover from spiritual and emotional abuse until the abuse stops. I know these are hard words and may cause you to feel even more uncomfortable than you already do.
What are you supposed to do if you suspect spiritual abuse is part of your disappointment with God? Here are a few steps to take:
1. Remove yourself, at least partially, from the abuse. Many stay in abusive situations for a variety of reasons. You may doubt yourself and accept the abuser’s words as truth. Step back, at a minimum, and begin to question what they are telling you.
2. Get support. Find a listening ear from someone you fully trust. You will know if they are speaking truth to you or adding to your confusion. Find someone with a solid faith who can help you sort out truth from fiction.
3. Get perspective. If you’ve been in an abusive situation for some time, it is likely that your perspective has become skewed and distorted. Again, read about spiritual abuse, talk to trusted friends, and get professional help to regain perspective.
4. Establish healthy boundaries. Tell your mate you no longer want him to speak into your spiritual life. While he will likely see this as rebellion and resistance, stand firm. Your spiritual life is your spiritual life. Own it and protect it.
5. Establish your own spiritual journey. Your faith walk is intimately personal. No two people have the same beliefs or journeys. Establish your own unique journey and cherish it. Ask God to reveal Himself in new and fresh ways to you.
Shelly will gradually find her own spiritual, emotional, and physical voice, but not without challenges. She will have to push against her husband and experience discomfort while doing it. Yet she has established a new path and has slowly begun to gain relief from the effects of abuse.
The Stages of Spiritual Faith
Shelly’s spiritual journey was marked by the stages others have traversed as they sought out a new relationship with God. Just as there are stages in emotional and physical growth, many discover there are stages in their faith walk as well.
In his article “5 Stages of Spiritual Awakening,” Dave Ferguson found that when people come to faith they pass through a similar set of experiences:
1. Awakening to longing. In this stage we reflect on the universal feeling that there’s got to be more to life. Most feel a deep longing for love, purpose, and meaning. Any crisis in life, and yours certainly qualifies, can ignite this awakening again.
2. Awakening to regret. Here we experience our regrets, misgivings, and choices we wish we had never made. We review our lives and note the places and circumstances where we fall short of our ideals. Some get stuck for significant periods of time feeling sorry and sad about their lives.
3. Awakening to help. After trying to fulfill ourselves without God and ending up with regret over and over, we finally acknowledge something has to change. We come to the end of ourselves, hit bottom, and recognize our need for help.
4. Awakening to love. We discover that God loves us in spite of poor choices or disappointments. We may still experience a shadow of shame, doubt, and guilt as we struggle to believe we are loved and accepted just as we are.
5. Awakening to life. In this stage we realize through Jesus we can have life and life in abundance. Not only is our biological life full, but our spiritual life is full as well.3
As with most stages of life, we may navigate back and forth, making progress, lapsing back, and then moving forward again. Remember, any crisis can disrupt our current stage of life or of faith.
It is also important to note that the stages listed above are meant to give direction to our spiritual walk, not to indicate anything we must change. The stages can help us see where we are and what our next spiritual step might be.
Doubting Christians
Notice that the stages of spiritual awakening show movement—from longing to fulfillment, from regret to forgiveness, and ultimately from emptiness to abundance.
Nowhere do I see that we have to completely give up doubt or disappointment. Shelly still has doubts, though she believes God will see her through her crises. I certainly still have doubts on a rather regular basis.
One of my favorite religious authors, Kathleen Norris, has some thoughts on doubt and sacred ambiguity. In her book Amazing Grace, she tells how she shared many doubts with monks, but was surprised to find they were actually unconcerned with her weighty doubts and intellectual frustrations over Christianity.
I had thought that my doubts were spectacular obstacles to my faith and was confused but intrigued when an old monk blithely stated that doubt is merely the seed of faith, a sign that faith is alive and ready to grow.4
This seems so true. These are words I shared with Shelly as she tried to make sense out of her disappointment with God and doubts that He would be enough for her. Did she have to redefine how she viewed God? Most definitely. Have I had to rethink how I view church and Christians? Absolutely. Have these questions been the seeds of new growth? Oh, yes.
From a Physician: Dr. Joshua Hawkins, Surgeon
“Oh, Doctor. I can’t tell you how much we praise God for you. We have been praying that He would provide someone who loves Jesus to take care of Mom.”
Wow. Pressure’s on. Or is it?
I get these kinds of comments regularly from people who know Christ, who are dealing with tough illnesses. These moments are the fuel that keeps the fire going. I am extremely grateful I get to experience bodily healing through His boundless grace. I am so small, so limited, and yet He has chosen to use me in this way.
Surgery requires a relationship of profound trust. When I am privileged to care for one of His sheep, building that relationship is easy. We instantly connect on the deepest level built on shared values and worldview, based on belief in our loving Creator, who knows the number of hairs on our heads, and knows the hurts in our hearts and bodies. We also share the greatest hope that cannot be diminished; we know that whatever happens on this earth, we will one day join our Savior with new bodies without disease, in perfect union with Him, but also with each other in restored relationships.
I once had a limited understanding of what it meant to live out a life of evangelism, and I thought the only way to bring God glory was to work in ministry. I never wanted to be a surgeon. While I always wanted to be a physician, once I started living my life for Christ, I felt called in other directions. Many people long for a clear “calling” from God, for direction in life. I can attest to the fact that God’s calling can be difficult.
Surgery is hard. I work very long hours and sacrifice endlessly for my profession. I even sacrifice my own health. I experience suffering daily, and death regularly. People put their faith in me, but I am fallible. Tim Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York, put it this way: “Suffering dispels the illusion that we have the strength and competence to rule our own lives.” I am reminded of that concept daily. God works in spite of me because of His great love for us.
Victor Hugo captures the immensity of God’s love for us in Les Miserables, saying, “The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.”5
I work as a surgeon in a small community. That means I don’t get to separate work and life. I get to operate on my coworkers, my friends, my kids’ friends’ parents, the mayor of town, the hospital board members’ spouses.
Sarah was one of my medical assistants. She came to work for me after I had cared for her as a patient. She’d had leukemia at age 22, and she needed a central line for chemotherapy and stem cell transplant. Through that short episode of care, we came to experience a glimpse into the mutual faith that directed our lives. When her cancer was in remission, she trained as an MA and came to work for me. Working with her was a joy. She was a light in a dark place. Patients loved her—her warm smile, her ability to make them laugh, and her genuine concern for their well-being. Our partnership was going well.
And then, unexpectedly, I became her surgeon again. She developed strange abdominal pains and was suddenly hospitalized. Recurrence of her leukemia was always in the back of our minds, but there was no easy way to make a diagnosis. A CT scan showed some vague changes in the omental fat in her abdomen. Worried and with nothing else to offer, I performed a laparoscopy and a biopsy of her abdominal fatty tissue. The results showed sheets of leukemia cells. Her cancer was back with a vengeance. I cried with her and her family. She died soon after at the age of 25. But between those tough first few days after her terrible diagnosis and the end of her life, she was an example of joy in suffering. She was one of the most selfless people I’ve ever known.
I would come to see her in the hospital, where she was clearly exhausted and in extreme pain, but she would barely allow me to ask about her. She always wanted to make sure I was getting by okay in her absence, and she asked with genuine concern about patients we had been caring for in my practice. One of Sarah’s amazing ministries in life was her ability to point to our God as a source of profound joy, strength, and hope, even as her body crumbled before our eyes.
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?…But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord (NASB).
I believe and see every day that we have no hope of achieving any healing of our physical, emotional, and relational hurts in this life apart from His grace.
A Faith Reborn
We all have doubts and disappointments with God. We expect healing and miracles and sometimes they show up, but sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they show up in unexpected ways.
Shelly, my son Joshua, you, and I have had our faith shaken. In our moments of vulnerability, we have all been disappointed by God. God has not been what you thought He would be and probably has not done what you thought He should do. But He’s God and He gets to make those decisions.
All in all, emotional and physical crises often lead to spiritual crises. From a crisis, however, we can expect a new life to emerge, a new faith to be reborn.
Something particular to emotional stress, leading to physical distress, makes one even more reliant and hopeful on God. The span between hope and disillusionment can be great. However, as you work through that disappointment and arrive at new understandings, you have the opportunity to have a new, more mature faith—a faith reborn.
We have talked about God in this chapter. I haven’t been too theological because, frankly, I’m not that theological. I hope, however, I’ve walked with you through some of the theological questions (and answers) about what many experience when facing severe stress—most presumably, doubt.
The bottom line is God cannot be or ever will be fully understood. If that were possible, we’d be more like God than we are. “Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12).
Let’s now continue our journey toward healing by learning how to take responsibility for your health.