You tell me you don’t believe anymore.
Your faith is slipping away, like sand through your open fingers.
You say it as if it’s a simple thing, but between the words I can hear all you’re not saying: The sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling. The hopeless prayers you’re sure no one hears. The doubt. The confusion. The agonizingly slow burial of a god that had once been real as a flesh-and-blood friend.
You tell it to me like a question, but you and I both know that this isn’t the sort of thing that can be solved. There’s no answer, no resolution, no easy way through or out.
Lean in to it.
Lean in to all your questions and doubts and emptiness.
Lean in to the void where the god you once knew is now missing.
There is no resurrection without death.
I’ve come to believe that a very real death of faith is necessary for resurrection of spirituality, especially for those of us who’ve worn the label “Christian” from an early age. You can’t try to anticipate it, steer it, and you sure as hell cannot shortcut it.
Lean into it.
Don’t try to “not lose your faith” Don’t try to resuscitate it or patch it together.
Let your expectations go. Let your faith go, along with everything you thought you knew.
Don’t be afraid.
If there’s a god, I have to believe that they’re more concerned with not losing you than you are with not losing what’s left of your faith.
If there’s anything out there at all, any Divine worth knowing, it won’t let you slip away.
[ image: BigGolf ]
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