DOUBT, DECONSTRUCTION, & JESUS (Part 5): Questioning Everything
Are you satisfied with your life? Are things the way they should be? Are you the way you want to be? Do you feel content and at home in your own experience?
If so, cherish what you have, because there are so many of us who cannot relate to you - not one little bit. You've got something rare and precious there. Enjoy. (And move along, there's nothing to see here.)
And now for the rest of us, welcome to a discussion about doubt, discontent, questioning everything, and about living with that ever present nagging feeling that something isn't right.
Let's have an honest conversation about why so many of us struggle with doubt about the choices we've made, questions about the paths we've walked, and discontentment about where it has all led us so far. This is more than regret about the past - it's anticipatory regret about how we're going to feel about the present.
We'll explore our own experience, what philosophers and psychologists say about this ongoing nagging feeling, and ultimately, what the Bible says about doubt and discontent.
MY EVER-PRESENT DOUBT
Let me tell you a story. It's about how I have lived with doubt and dissatisfaction my whole life. Because, it's busy in my brain. It won't shut up in there. And by nature, my mind occupies itself by reaching for the opposite thought of whatever thought I just had or have just heard. Even if trivial.
I have a stereo mind in a mono world. I've heard it called a "Reflective" mind, or a "Yes, and yet" brain. I've been this way since my earliest memories.
Here's my story...
I "got saved" or "born again" or "gave my heart to Christ" or "asked Jesus to forgive my sins and come live inside me" when I was about five years old. It was in a children's service at Pentecostal family camp. I went forward for my first altar call and repented of my life of sin (just what that was at five years old I'm not sure - thieving at 3, drug-dealing at 4?). And I was promised that Jesus now lived inside me, I was now born again, and I was a new creation in Christ. And, lo and behold, I did feel something special going on inside and around me.
Here is my memory of what happened next. When I left that tent service and walked back to our trailer I had two kinds of thoughts come to me one after the other:
I love being a new creation! I sense Jesus inside me! And even the air feels more fresh and the stars seem more bright!
A Few Moments Later: But then, I have been stuck in a stuffy tent for a couple hours so the air must just seem fresher because of that, and come to think of it, maybe the stars were always that bright and I just didn't take time to notice. Huh. So now I wonder - Do I really feel Jesus inside me?
My first altar call, my first profession of faith, and I was already a skeptic.
And. That. Has. Never. Stopped.
As I grew older I learned about the Placebo Effect and the power of suggestion, and began to interpret any spiritual experiences through that lens.
When I saw a friend who was being prayed for get "slain in the spirit" I had my doubts. And when another friend asked me to pray for him, and he was slain in the spirit as soon as I put my hands on him, my doubts doubled.
In Jr High, our Christian school band went on a "missions trip". When we got off the plane at our tropical destination, one of my classmates commented: "I can just sense the spiritual oppression. We should get ready for spiritual warfare while we're here." The other kids gave an agreeable "Amen" but I responded, "I think what you're sensing is just called humidity." Sheesh, I could be a spiritual party pooper.
In my young adult years I became friends with an amazing mentalist named Mike Mandel (I love that guy!). Today he does therapeutic hypnosis, but back then he was primarily an entertainer, a "mentalist". I watched him do crazy things that seemed supernatural. And he always reminded me that he is not able to do these things because he is gifted by God or blessed by the Devil - he is just really good at knowing how people work. He could bend keys (or could he?), and make people think certain things and behave in specific ways. ("On the count of three you will think that person beside you just pinched your bum. Ready? One, two, three!" "Hey! You pinched my bum!") But when I asked him to try it all on me, he told me he knew it could never work on me because my mind is too busy always actively questioning everything. I had to be willing to let go, to go with the flow. Well, that would never be me. So I never had the fun of being part of his stage show or party tricks. I just watched, observed, and took note that not everyone's mind is naturally doubtful. Some people want to believe, are quick to believe, and enjoy the very act of believing. (Weirdos.)
For me, my mind was always too busy trying to assess the opposite of what I already believed to be fully in the moment. I remember one time when my friend Mel picked me up to drive to youth group meeting at church and she asked me "How have you been lately?" My response was: "Great. Except I didn't get a lot of sleep last night because I was lying in bed wondering if God is really the villain of the universe and the Devil is the hero. I mean, the Bible - it only gives us one side of the story, am I right?"
I remember looking at her looking at me and the expression on her face was way too concerned. I realized then and there that people are different and I can't assume that my thought life is like everyone else's.
At first I thought that maybe I was uniquely weird or part of a small minority of people who doubted everything everywhere all the time. But one author helped change that.
At seminary I was introduced to the writing of Daniel Taylor, especially his book, The Myth of Certainty. Taylor talks about the "reflective person" and the "reflective mind". And something clicked. He writes:
"The reflective person is, first and foremost, a question asker—one who finds in every experience and assertion something that requires further investigation. He or she is a stone-turner, attracted to the creepy-crawly things that live under rocks and behind human pronouncements." ~ Daniel Taylor (The Myth of Certainty)
Then later he adds:
The life of a reflective person is more likely to be interesting, less likely to be serene; more likely to be marked by the pursuit of answers, less by the finding of them. The result is a high potential for creativity, curiosity, and discovery, but also for paralyzing ambivalence, alienation, and melancholy. ~ Daniel Taylor (The Myth of Certainty)
I was (and still am) so grateful to feel seen and understood.
Now I realize I am naturally wired with my own dysfunctional version of what philosophers call dialectical thinking or what the psychiatrist Albert Rothenberg called Janusian thinking - named after Janus, the two-faced Roman god.
Janus isn't "two-faced" in our common use of being deceptive, but "two-viewed" in the sense of always wanting to see multiple sides of any issue. This is not inherently a bad thing. Real life may sometimes give us "black or white" issues, but often reality is far more nuanced, and Janusian thinking perceives that reality better.
Ancient wisdom literature encourages Janusian thinking, for instance:
Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him. Answer a fool according to his folly, or he will be wise in his own eyes. ~ King Solomon (Proverbs 26:4-5)
These two wisdom principles are not contradictions; they are nuance, they are Janusian, they are what wisdom looks like in this complicated world.
My brain seems to work this way naturally, but not always toward a good outcome. Sometimes I tend to see opposite sides of an issue so much that I suffer from a paralysis of analysis, and I default to inaction. I can't make a choice; I can't pick a side; I can't make a move.
At its best, Janusian thinking can lead to epistemic humility - recognizing the limits of our own knowledge. This is where every conviction triggers the question, "What am I missing?". I value this, even if my brain can often overdo it.
For instance, my internal monologue can go something like this...
ME: What a lovely day.
ME 2: That's a pretty limited assessment of today, since a lot of suffering people would not call it 'lovely'.
ME: I'm so glad I've grown and healed so much these past couple of years.
ME 2: Maybe. Or have I just gotten better at narrating my dysfunction in therapeutic language?
ME: I feel like I'm slowly discovering the real me.
ME 2: Maybe, but maybe there is a deeper you that you haven't become aware of yet. Or maybe you're just hollow in the middle, or so busy trying to be what you think you should be that you don't notice you're not alive on the inside or that at the deepest level you don't even exist.
A Well-Meaning Person: Well, everything happens for a reason.
Me 2: Sure, and sometimes that reason is just because we live in a world where random bad things happen, period. So actually, no reason.
Christian YouTuber: The Bible is clear on this subject.
Me 2: Really? If it is so clear, why have Christians spent the last 2,000 years debating it? And why are there currently hundreds if not thousands of Christian denominations that can't agree?
As you can see, being a mental contrarian can be a bit of a downer, but sometimes it can lead to increased empathy and compassion...
Well-meaning person: That person is an absolute monster for what they did.
Me 2: What they did is terrible, but calling them a 'monster' is a convenient way to pretend we aren't the same species. They’re a human being with a broken compass - and given the right cocktail of fear, ego, or blind spots, how immune are any of us to our own brand of wreckage?
Well-meaning person: We need to hold people accountable for their actions.
Me 2: Absolutely. Accountability. But do we sometimes use "accountability" as respectable language for vengeance or social exclusion?
Me 3: Or do we sometimes label accountability as "vengeance" in order to avoid accountability?
Sometimes I just naturally push back against any embraced cliché:
Well-meaning Person: Time heals all wounds.
Me 2: Or it just helps the bone set crooked.
A comforting Person: God is still on his throne.
Me 2: Look around you. I think he fell asleep in his chair.
(Psalm 44:23)
A Reminiscent Person: Things were better in the old days.
Me 2: How old? Before antibiotics, emancipation, indoor plumbing?
And then some of my Side A/B thinking is just frustratingly circular:
Me: It's good to question everything.
Me 2: But should I question the wisdom of questioning everything? At what point does skepticism become its own unquestioned dogma?
Me: I think I'm naturally a contrarian.
Me 2: Or am I?
At its best, this kind of thinking can help a person anticipate reality better than single-thought visionaries. Some people are just too surprised when an alternative they didn't consider actually happens. For me, when something unforeseen happens, it feels familiar, like it was foreseen - not because I have prophetic or predictive capabilities, but just because I am always anticipating the opposite of what I anticipate, which tends to cover most of the bases.
If the differing perspectives in our brains work together to assess a situation - that's not dysfunction, that's wisdom. Psychologists call this mental phenomenon integrative complexity: holding opposing views, then synthesizing them. And I want to actively pursue this.
Maybe that's why I like portions of the Sermon on the Mount so much, because I hear this kind of pushback thinking in Jesus' discussion of Scripture - "I haven't come to abolish... BUT I have come to fulfil. / You have heard it said... BUT I tell you..." (Matthew 5). It seems like Jesus wants us all to lean in with our Janusian brains engaged.
Jesus even says that the Kingdom of Heaven is here and not here, now and not yet. It is "at hand" (Matthew 4:17; Mark 1:15) and within and among us (Luke 17:20-21) and the poor in spirit already have it (Matthew 5:3). And yet we should pray that it comes (Matthew 6:10), which assumes it hasn't come yet, at least not fully.
This tension is expressed throughout the New Testament. The writer of Hebrews talks about Christ's victory on the cross over all dark powers and declares that all things are now submitted to him. Then states plainly:
But now we do not yet see all things submitted to him. (Hebrews 2:8)
Now and not yet.
For me, the downside of a Janusian brain is that I doubt everything all the time. Which can make my faith life, well, complicated.
So, what does the Bible say about our struggle with doubt?
DOUBT & THE BIBLE
We all know that the Bible encourages faith. Faith is our response to God's grace.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. ~ The apostle Paul (Ephesians 2:8-9)
We also know that the Bible discourages doubt. It can lead to double-mindedness - the bad side of Janusian thinking...
If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do. ~ James the brother of Jesus (James 1:5-8)
Oh man, I'm doomed. This biblical warning captures my experience perfectly. So what can I do? I can't just tell my brain to stop thinking about the pink elephant in the room. The more I tell it that, the more it focuses on the pink elephant in the room.
How does someone with my wiring apply this teaching? Can I even "believe and not doubt"?
The weird thing about language is that one word can mean different things in different contexts. Language is elastic. Is a "trunk" a box to put toys in, a nose of an elephant, or the stem of a tree?
Likewise, the word biblical word for "doubt" can also be used differently in different contexts. The Greek word, diakrinō, means to thoroughly assess, discern, or judge. It can refer to a back-and-forth brain, dedicated to assessing both sides of an issue. Again, this is a good thing, until it isn't. The word is used positively in places (e.g., Matthew 16:3; 1 Corinthians 11:31; 14:29; etc.) and negatively in others, as we've just read. Doubt is a coin with two sides.
So, according to the Bible, looking at both sides is GOOD for discerning our next steps, but BAD if it becomes crippling and we never take those next steps.
Think of a marriage ceremony. A person walks down the aisle with a questioning brain, asking if they should really be there, but aware that their brain does this all the time, so they move through the ceremony and say their vows and exchange their rings and sign the license with their background doubts always present - that person is just as married at the end of the day as the person who never doubts and never questions. The important thing is that they moved forward. Or that they made a different choice and walked a different path. Either way, it's the choices we make and the actions we take that determine the shape of our faith, not the questions rattling around inside our heads.
So, the overall New Testament disposition to doubters is mercy.
Be merciful to those who doubt. ~ Jude the brother of Jesus (Jude 1:22)
Beyond this, there are a few passages in the Gospels that have become so meaningful to me on the issue of doubt. Here are four of them...
#1. John the Baptist
First is the story of John the Baptist's doubt (Matthew 11:2–14; Luke 7:18-28).
In brief, John gets arrested and his confident faith turns into personal discouragement and questioning doubt. He sends a message to Jesus asking if he really is the Messiah or if they should move on and look for someone else. Ouch. But Jesus doesn't respond with rebuke. Instead, Jesus:
a) trusts John to assess the evidence for himself, and
b) elevates John to the crowds as God's messenger.
Amazing.
Jesus has publicly held up a sign saying "Doubt Welcome Here".
#2. A dad's cry for help
Second is that line from the father of a boy Jesus heals:
“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
Man that captures the paradox of faith. And this has become a sort of theme prayer for my life.
"I believe! ... And I don't. But I believe enough to believe you can help me with my unbelief!" And so I move forward with Jesus.
#3. Doubting Thomas
Third is the example of "Doubting Thomas". I know he gets a bad rep. He was absent when the resurrected Jesus first appeared, which is the cause of his doubt, not some negative personality trait. After the crucifixion, all the disciples were doubters until they saw Jesus alive again.
But having said that, I love how Jesus never shames, rebukes, reprimands, or recoils from Thomas because he wants evidence. Jesus simply provides it, by offering himself.
Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe. ~ JESUS (John 20:27)
Jesus says the words "stop doubting and believe" only after he has given Thomas the evidence. Powerful.
#4. The Doubting Disciples
And lastly is the doubting disciples at the Great Commission. Matthew describes the scene just before Jesus gives the Great Commission with the words:
They worshipped him; but some doubted. (Matthew 28:17)
And it was to this group of doubting worshippers that Jesus entrusted his mission, his movement, and his future Church.
I want to be a doubting worshipper. I've got the doubting part down pat. And I'm working on worshipping Jesus the way he deserves.
Through all of this, one thing becomes clear:
Doubt does not discredit faith.
Doubt is a subcategory of faith. I don't wrestle with doubt about whether or not Unicorns exist. I simply don't believe they exist. I don't doubt I can fly. I simply don't believe I can fly. We only doubt things that matter to us, that we are already invested in. We only doubt what we already believe. Wrestling with doubt says "This matters to me. And my faith has questions."
Faith is not psychological certainty. It is enacted trust. And Jesus can work with honest doubters who keep moving toward him.
I have come to accept that whatever I believe, I will carry my doubts with me. As a Christian, I am a doubting Christian. But as an atheist, I would be a doubting atheist. As a Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, or generic quasi-spiritual new-agey person, I would be a doubting version of that. So I choose to follow Jesus, with all my doubts coming along for the ride. And here's the thing - I don't think Jesus minds one bit.
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