A few years ago my old faith essentially died. The ideas and beliefs which once freely flew about my soul now lay at my feet, a fallen flock, silent and lifeless. I endured an intense, painful and disorienting time lasting for several years.
The catalyst which began this process was an introduction to new perspectives on faith. Those concepts resonated deeply with who I am. Such conversations raised hidden questions I had about everything I’d been taught about God and what it meant to be a Christian. I generally retained a core-level belief that “God is” but beyond that everything was in play. Eventually I even wrestled with the question of whether or not I had been talking to an imaginary sky-friend.
One day when I found myself far afield on this spiritual tundra, I resolutely determined that I would not relinquish my faith without a fight. I did not know where that decision would take me, but I was adamant about doing what it took to work my way out of that ontological and theological morass (pardon all such mixing of metaphors here). That was a watershed moment. A new faith began to evidence a pulse. Though my faith-as-it-was died, out of the ashes a faith in Christ began to be born again (Though I would not consider calling myself a “born again Christian.”) I have a burgeoning faith replete with questions and doubt. It is a new journey with a mysterious, ambiguous God who generally seems to interact with His creation in hidden and inexplicable ways.
I try to walk the path of relatively orthodox, Trinitarian Christianity, but I often find myself balking as I read the scriptures. Which aspect of this seemingly bipolar Deity do I follow, Genocidal Jehovah or Abba Adonai? I pray the Divine Office and daily seem to find words in my mouth which jar my heart. Bloodthirsty voices of Old Testament poets and prophets calling upon the wrath of a vengeful God. Even the more peace-oriented verses there leave me uneasy, but for a different reason. They assume a level of trust and adoration that I only long to possess.
Part of my problem is the issue of the authority of scripture. For me, its’ trustworthiness as an inerrant instruction manual is suspect, considering translation errors and outright forgeries in the Bible, not to mention allegations that much of the holy book is not written by who tradition says wrote it (that it’s pseudepigraphical). I am not saying that I buy into the conclusions of the “higher textual criticism” camp, but even if you only accept a fraction of what they posit, they do raise a reasonable doubt about the reliability of much of the Bible we possess today. And then there’s the issue of historical and cultural contextualization. What did the written words mean to the audience of the day, assuming they are not pseudepigraphical? If I cannot confidently turn to scripture, or if it assumes a reality that is not my own, where do I place my trust? I continue to seek, albeit ineptly and inconsistently, God the Father, Christ the Son and the Wild Goose (as the Celtic Christians referred to the Holy Spirit). I do so, looking to ancient practices, the teachings of respected elders of past and present, public and private prayer, conversations with trusted spiritual companions, and yes, to scripture, at least as part of liturgy.
In the quest for new understanding of the Way of Jesus, I ask others, “Why are you a Christian, and what does that term mean to you? What is different in your life that would not be true if you were not a Christian?” and “In your experience, how does God respond to prayer?” Generally I receive answers that do not satisfy. “I am a Christian because it’s the only faith that makes sense to me.” “I am on the path of salvation because I need saving from myself.” And regarding prayer, “When God answers prayer He gives you courage or the ability to endure.” Or, “He answers prayers by comforting you in times of trial and giving you hope.” Those answers about prayer make me think of Karl Marx’s charge that Christianity is the opiate of the masses.
A nontheist asks, “Do you ever ask your God to restore amputated limbs? If He supposedly raised people from the dead and healed the blind, surely your God could pull this off. Say, maybe even just regrow a single finger or toe.” I find that the atheist is more bold in his imaginings regarding prayer than many theists who simply anticipate that God will slightly alter their emotions and attitudes.
All of this gives rise to many questions which I ask myself. (I’m sharing them for illustrative purposes, not to solicit answers.)
- What kind of God do I expect to encounter and on what do I base those expectations?
- Who am I to bring expectations to God? Such impudence! (Cue the thunder and lightning!)
- Can God be real to me in a way that makes a tangible difference in my life?
- Does prayer only make us feel better? a Divine AntiDepressant? I wish the answer was more than simply lowering expectations of God to match reality, as if He were any other deity. AA and others demonstrate that there is transformative power inherent in faith in any “higher power” be it Jesus, Allah, or a magic doorknob. I am uncomfortable with prayer to the Triune God being reduced almost to the status of rubbing an enhanced rabbit’s foot or some other self-consoling behavior.
- Setting aside the issue of eternity for a moment, what is truly different and transformative about the Way of Jesus from any other religious path in this life?
- To whom should I look to shed meaningful light on the purpose and efficacy of Christ’s death and resurrection, particularly in regard to eternity? Is it Anselm, Waldenstrom, Calvin, Arminius, Athanasius, Wright, McLaren, or some other luminary?
- Did God really give breath to more than 98.9% of the world’s population (that is, non-believers in Christian Reform theology) from the beginning of the world for the sole purpose of torturing them throughout eternity for His eternal glory? Could John Calvin and his not-so-merry minions possibly be right?
I have not taken the time to carefully work out answers to these questions in part because my life is rather full right now (I do not have the opportunity to become an anchorite for several months), plus I’ve been down that road of trying to find all the “right” answers. I’ve taught classes in apologetics and the history of church doctrine. (Just Sunday School classes, nothing academic.) So I am familiar with many of the standard evangelical answers to basic questions about the Christian faith or can find them online quickly. For me, now the issue is not so much finding the “right” answers as it is being at peace with the journey, renouncing my demand for certainty. But I was raised a modernist. My natural inclination is to seek a degree of order and certainty. I am trying to learn to trust a God who I do not honestly trust very much. So I pray.
- I do not pray for intellectual understanding of God. I do pray for peace with divine mystery.
- I do not pray for definitive answers about God’s purpose. I do pray that He will transform me that I might live in harmony with that purpose as He reveals it in my life.
- I do not pray that God would take away the pain of life. I do pray that I would be able to stay present in the pain and face life with courage, honesty, and integrity.
- I do not pray for happiness. I do pray for contentment and peace regardless of my circumstances or emotional state. I pray that God would help me to be honest with myself, with Him, and with others.
- I do pray that God would help me to extend mercy, compassion and grace to myself, that I would learn to trust and accept His love for me, and that in turn I would be able to be a vehicle of His love to others. Those things are so far from the truth right now that it feels like I am praying for something as miraculous as what the atheist suggested.
- I pray that God would soften my cynical, judgmental heart and teach me to truly accept others precisely as they are.
- I pray that God would replace the profanity that is frequently on my tongue with words of generosity and grace.
- I pray that God would redirect my vision from a focus on me, myself, and I, to a perspective of compassion toward those whom He calls me to love.
Amen.
Thanks for putting up with this very long, rambling post.
Gary
NOTE: I shared too much about myself during a book discussion group at church. We’re reading an old Anne Lamott book, “Traveling Mercies.” Her openness rubbed off on me. I forgot: Thou shalt not display the TRUTH about thy imperfections in almost any church setting. Sometimes I wish I had a zipper on my mouth, not to mention a max word counter here.
Thanks for sharing this, Gary.
It was interesting to see you mentioning the same quote from Karl Marx that was in my post the other day (because Pete Rollins used it), similarly applied!
I guess that why it so readily came to mind for me.
BTW, I tried to submit a comment on your post the other day, but it didn’t take I guess. I tried twice and got a message saying that I had already posted it. I gave up, figuring that an antibloviation filter had been turned on. Not sure why it didn’t catch me all those other time though.
Gary –
What a great faith… built on something authentic, rather than prescribed and pretentious! I love it!
A great faith? I don’t know. But it’s the only faith that I have left. Authentic, perhaps, if a bit self-absorbed. Fortunately I have role models at CC and elsewhere inspiring me to slog forward. (It amazes me that some people can dance on this journey. They are blessed.)
I am so grateful that Christ talked about the value of a mustard seed’s worth of faith. There have been so many times when that parable was the only thing that kept me from giving up on my faith journey.
Gary – Coming to an authentic faith is a messy business, I think the true role models are the honest people who admit their struggles. I feel like the God is alive in our honesty. Honesty opens the door for other people to be honest, then there is the possibility of true community, freedom, and healing.
Amen! Preach it, bro!
Oops! you shared your heart at church…get out the tar and feathers! I have to bite my tongue talking to some of my closest friends…they just don’t understand. How we bought into some of the hype I don’t know, but I think at this stage in my journey, I’m learning more by just getting quiet and listening.
Alice, I learned a couple things at that meeting last night. First is that some vocal people seem to consider Anne Lamott to be a self-absorbed drama queen who happens to be an entertaining writer. But they clearly thought she was a very odd and quite defective person that they would not like to be around. I got very defensive because I so closely identify with much of Anne’s experience. I guess I am whatever you call a male drama queen. I am also a story-teller (albeit an amateur) who loves to regale (sometimes bore) others with tales from my strange faith journey.
The blood-flow to my brain must have been impaired by that situation, for in defending Anne, I revealed to them that I am a drug addict with 32 years of sobriety, that I had a brain tumor at one point, that I had been to an eating disorder clinic, and that I wished that my life had been normal, by which I meant that I had never acted out on addictive tendencies. Those little tidbits were interspersed in an ongoing conversation, but in the end I still felt like a naked fat man standing on the table holding a neon sign that said “aren’t I interesting?”. (My apologies for you visual thinkers).
Fortunately another guy (a gentle, retired man) then shared about his own battle with alcoholism and the bullet that he looked at every day for three years with the intention of using it to make a new orifice in his skull.
Secondly, I learned that, at least from my perspective, it seems that some of the people at my church find the idea of self-reflection to be tedious, selfish, and a waste of time. It was a reminder to me that many people in this country are content with three meals, a steady paycheck, a sermon a week, a television, and for some also the latest best selling novel. All those things are fine. And I do not begrudge those who lives happy lives like that. (To be fair, they include family and friends in that world, as long as they only talk about the economy, the weather, or sports.) It’s just that I would feel dead if that was my life.
All of that was just a reminder to me that, as Keith Miller says, when you vomit on the table you may feel better, but it generally doesn’t do much for anybody else. I shared way too much. There’s a time to share, and that’s in the context of a relationship of mutually earned trust. Still I wanted to shake them up just a little bit because it felt like they were attacking someone I admire and with whom I identify.
Oy vey, there I go rambling again.
This is a great post, Gary, if only because it outlines my own questions and doubts. I don’t know much, only that I have tried to give up the faith, and cannot. I appreciate the honesty of fellow sojourners. So, thank you.
Erin, thanks. I’m grateful that we’ve been able to share the journey with one another over the past few years.
I really like how Glenn talks about honesty, “God is alive in our honesty. Honesty opens the door for other people to be honest, then there is the possibility of true community, freedom, and healing.”
That question about why God doesn’t heal amputees is a big reason why I’m currently moving further away from my former faith, and almost about to throw the whole thing away as a delusion. I was always taught (and taught others in my turn) that God answers prayer, God does great things, prayer is effective and so on. Yet when I examine it dispassionately, I find no evidence that prayer is effective or that God answers prayer, over and above what could be statistically ascribed to coincidence.
I’ve certainly never seen a genuine miracle, or heard a verifiable report of one.
My old faith died several years ago; my “new” faith, found and lived outside the walls of the church, is currently sick and may even be on its deathbed.
Barry, I’m sorry to hear that your new faith may be terminally ill. Unfortunately, I concur with your assessment of prayer. There is no difference between the was prayer was answered when I was living in a New Age commune in 1974 and when I was serving in an evangelical church in 1994. Interestingly enough, it’s my time in that commune which makes me certain that the supernatural realm is real. That leads me to believe that God is real.
A good friend named Don was diagnosed with stage-4 liver cancer. He had a robust faith, as did his lovely wife. He was supposed to live 9 months after diagnosis. He lived 18. He saw every day beyond 9 months as a miracle. The extended time allowed him to better prepare himself and his family for his passing. He also did things he had always wanted to do, like skydiving.
For many years before that I had avoided praying for healing, in part because I didn’t want to be disappointed, in part because I still bought into the idea that maybe God had a purpose allowing things like a friend’s infant daughter to be born with a hole in her heart. He certainly used my time of dealing with a brain tumor. But this time, even though I didn’t have much faith that God responded much to prayer for healing (especially cancer), I prayed earnestly for Don to be cured. I prayed in the face of reason.
During the 18 months of Don’s treatment, many very good things happened that the doctors could not explain. They had no scientific/medical explanation for them. In effect, they were “miracles.” This gave false hope for the “really big miracle” to all who were praying for Don’s recovery.
When Don died, leaving behind two teenage sons and a widow, I was so pissed at God. It was pretty much THE last straw in an already shattered faith. Of course, my response was all about ME. I only had a relationship with Don, not his family, so I could only reach out at the most superficial level.
I also think of a very dear friend who learned that her 18-year-old son is a heroin addict. This single-mom had been a church-going Christian since before he was born. She prayed for all those years for a husband and father for her son, or at least a male mentor. Men in the church routinely promised to mentor him, but never showed up. This was particularly painful when her son was very young and a man the boy idolized promised to take him fishing on a certain day and simply never showed. Never called. Nothing.
Her son finally found a mentor in the man who introduced him to heroin. Now my friend also has a broken faith and very little trust in prayer. Where was God? Of what value was prayer in her life? Her faith is not totally dead, but I think that’s only because she so desperately wants a loving, trustworthy God to be true.
Gary & Barry…
It seems that my current perspective on answers to prayer is the same as what you have experienced.
Sometimes though, I wonder if prayers don’t get answered because the other “Christians” in the church are so busy praying that they don’t have time to actually BE the answer to prayers.
I’ve only glanced at Shane Claibourne’s book, “Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers: Prayer for Ordinary Radicals” but that I wonder if there isn’t a huge difference between praying for economic justice and praying for someone being treated for stage-four liver cancer.
My friend with the son certainly could have used people in the church BEING the answer to prayers.
I’ve been thinking about the whole idea of how we respond to the needs we encounter. Unfortunately, there is so much truth in the adage, “No good deed goes unpunished.” It seems that there is almost always a greater personal cost and depth of entanglement than we anticipate when we invest the time and energy in helping someone else, especially if that person is a needy stranger. (Especially when that person is a professional-level manipulator and/or a chronic victim. I’ve been on both sides of that equation.) But if I recall correctly, Jesus had a parable about all of that . . . the good Samaritan. . . . I think in the church today, a gay man with AIDS would be the equivalent of the bleeding man on the side of the road.
I hope that my rambling doesn’t give the impression that I disagree with you, at least speaking of myself. I am seldom sensitive to, or perhaps just not responsive to, opportunities to be the answer to another person’s prayer.
I think what Rainer said is where I am…maybe people need to stop praying for miracles and start being the miracles.
Granted that’s not an option in every situation…but works when it comes to poverty, homelessness, foster children, loneliness, etc.
I’ve heard it said that “God always answers prayer, but sometimes the answer is no” and that just seems like a cop-out to me (not saying I’m right). A friend and I have an ongoing argument about this…because she’s one of those people who has a million of these stories of God coming through in amazing ways…and I have to tell her that I have never seen those things in my own life (and I’ve been a Christian longer than she has). So either a) God loves her more than I b) I don’t have enough “faith” or “trust”, or c) some things are just coincidence.
On many levels, I’m with Barry. Or maybe it’s just a natural stage in the deconstruction process.
I too have seen/experienced the dilemma caused by huge prayer campaigns for cancer patients who die anyway… The guilt that results in family members who end up thinking they “didn’t have enough faith” or whatever is simply unfair, as are some of the accusations from other Christians insinuating “hidden sin” or whatever.
I really don’t know the answers to that. It just makes no sense to me…
I have also seen many times the situation where somebody simply needs some help – help that could be provided by another person – and instead they get told “we’ll pray for you”.
Sometimes, being the miracle is simpler than we think.
Erin, wow, that idea that “sometimes the answer is No” and other such explanations for seemingly unanswered prayer, really feels like rationalization. I have personally grown to despise the coincidences that are attributed to Divine intervention. And the expression “God moment” or “God thing” when circumstances turn out in a particularly beneficial way or produce new insights . . . we had exactly the same sort of thing happen when I lived in the New Age commune. Generally we said, “It was meant to happen.” We didn’t specify WHO meant it to happen, but generally it was assumed to be fate. I wonder if Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Sikhs, Hindus, NeoPagans, Wiccans, and others have their own terms for such occurrences?
Rainer,
I remember being in a group where several people, especially one woman who lost an infant to SIDS, expressed how much they grew to hate the words, “I’ll be praying for you.” For her that simply meant, “This is really uncomfortable. I don’t want to be around you anymore. I’ll say this nice Christian thing so I can run away.” Of course she realized that nobody really knows what to say, but she also could see when Christianese was being used as a social nicety.
I remember reading a list of things to say that actually had meaning for use in situations like that. They usually involved seeking a way to connect in a genuine, human way. But sometimes the pain and grief are so intense that nothing connects. And sometimes what we say is really more about making us feel better than making the suffering person feel better.
Pardon the long responses, especially in light of the length of the initial post. This is an intensely powerful and often painful subject. I respond at length because I view this as an ongoing conversation and I am naturally long-winded. Thanks again for your responses and your interaction.
I can’t remember if I already said this directly, but this subject, or more precisely, my experience with doubt, is what drives me to want to create that f2f safe place where Christians and seeking nonbelievers can explore these issues together in safety. I don’t yet know how, but I fervently hope this will happen. I am taking steps, but also have to wait because I am not the only one involved in the process of creating this safe place.
FWIW, your prayers would be appreciated regarding this process. I feel a bit hypocritical saying that, but to be honest, I think I pray now more than I ever have in my life. Strange.
“The ideas and beliefs which once freely flew about my soul now lay at my feet, a fallen flock, silent and lifeless.”
Gary, I guess this is where I’m at right now. Thank you for this post. I’ve not been feeling anything about my beliefs (or lack thereof), until a few weeks ago. There is this dull ache…a longing for something, but the confusion and frustration and bewildered fog has kept me from even trying to find some answers. I feel much the same about the Bible as you do, and that I think is where my faith troubles begin…because most of the christian religions/denominations begin there, and base their beliefs and actions upon only this book. There are so many different ideas and interpretations and values, sometimes it’s hard to see through the smoke and find the truth.
Kari,
I am sorry to hear that. I say that not so much because I am sad to see your old faith in pieces, but because I know all too well the pain of that process. I found hope in knowing that there are countless other Christians out there experiencing the same struggle. I believe that the institutional church is failing miserably in acknowledging and responding to the growing reality. Perhaps it’s difficult for them to do so because they are generally perceived as being threatened by questions and doubt, and as having an entrenched self-interest in propping up the status quo. I doubt that I can fulfill my own desire to create a safe place for people like us within the institutional church.
Another thing that helped me was my awareness of the longing you mention. I WANTED TO BELIEVE (hmm, reminds me of the X-files), I wanted to believe that God is good, loving, and trustworthy. Unfortunately, my experience tended to undermine that desire. Still, I did not want to relinquish my basic belief in God.
Even now, as my original post indicates, I juggle different inner voices and values. The more I look into contemplative Christianity the more I find reinforcement for my belief that God is real, that He loves even me, and that greater union with Him is possible.
Secondly, I find that the Buddhist teachings on becoming Awake and their various meditative practices often seem to be in harmony with Contemplative Christian teachings and practices. I believe this is why Thomas Merton was drawn to them.
I believe Buddhists are working to attain a different objective than Contemplative Christianity, but the very fact that there is so much harmony between the two reassures me that some deep spiritual ground in being tapped. Therefore, it is not a waste of time for me to continue in the Way of Jesus. It’s why I am drawn to Thomas Keating, James Finley, Thomas Merton, Margaret Gunther, and David G. Benner, Meister Eckhart, Peter Rollins, Brian McLaren, Scot McKnight, and many more with complementary messages.
May God draw you closer in your search. May He kindle that longing and lead you into teachings and practices which begin to satisfy it. But I hope and pray that we would always be aware of some degree of longing. I believe that this world will always leave us longing, for we were designed and created for another reality wherein we relate to ourselves, God, and one another in perfect honesty, trust, acceptance, and compassion.
I’d like to ask a favor. Could you please answer these questions for me?:
1. Would you be interested in physically gathering (face2face, as opposed to doing so online) with other Christians in your area who have serious questions and doubts about Christian faith and practice? (and meeting regularly, like once a month? possibly organized via Meetup.com) I’m not asking for a commitment, I’m just floating a hypothetical question.
2. If so, what would make that type of gathering a.) interesting, b.) safe, and c.) worthwile?
3. If that sort of gathering could happen online, would you be interested? I have no idea as to whether that would be via a live forum, Skype, a webinar application, or some other online vehicle.
Any thoughts you have about any of these questions are welcome. The reason I ask is because I want to do a face2face meeting in my area, but I and others are also investigating what it would take to do one online.
Gary,
I would love to find some other people near me who want to talk about this… Just meeting people would make it worthwhile!
Online discussions might be interesting as well, but isn’t that what we’re doing now?
Rainer, would you be concerned about the particulars of the venue? What “guidelines” for lack of a better word, would you want to see in place to ensure that people treated one another with respect or that someone didn’t simply try to “evangelize” all the “sinners” in the room?
Take a look at this Meetup. If Portland were a little closer to me, I’d probably be interested in attending.
Sure, this is kind of an online discussion. I very much enjoyed the interaction and appreciated your comments. What I am envisioning is something more immediate, more realtime. Comment threads are a somewhat cumbersome way to communicate.
Looks like an interesting group… too bad it’s almost 3000 miles away from me!
The “guidelines” they mention there seem reasonable – I guess there might always be somebody who sees it as their mission from God to correct everybody.
My wife and I have talked about this a number of times – about how it would be great to find others who have questions (and aren’t afraid to admit it).
Rainer, if it’s almost 3,000 miles away from you, then I guess you and I wouldn’t be able to sit down over beverages any time soon either. Oh well. I would have liked that.
Thanks Gary…I like the way you describe juggling all of the inner voices, because that is precisely the way I feel. I do believe in God, but I’m just not sure what it is anymore that I do believe. My encounters are not exactly likened to anything in the Bible, and often times I wonder if they were even there at all, perhaps the result of some sort of brain washing or “mood creating” by music and emotion, etc…But I can’t shake a deep feeling in my spirit God is here, or some of the things in my life that I know have been in His (her) control (again, personal feelings here).
To answer your questions, right now I’m just not at all sure! I do enjoy reading here, and appreciate the sharing going on.
Kari, thanks so much for your response to my questions. I strongly relate to the way you describe that deep feeling. Thanks for being part of this conversation!
I have often wondered why I am so passionate about creating a safe place for doubters. I’ve been bothered by the fact that there’s an “edge” in my desire, making it more of a demand.
This morning I came across a quote over on the refuge’s blog (the refuge is an awesome community shepherded by kathy escobar) that helps me to better understand what’s going on in my heart. I don’t know if the connection to this discussion is relevant to anybody else. It certainly is for me. I am still reeling from reading the quote.
I posted the quote I found there and following comments on my own blog:
“We keep hoping that one day we will find the man who really understands our experiences, the woman who will bring peace to our restless life, the job where we can fulfill our potential, the book which will explain everything, and the place where we can feel at home. such false hope leads us to exhausting demands and prepares us for bitterness and dangerous hostility when we start discovering that nobody, and nothing, can live up to our absolutistic expectations.” — Henri Nouwen
This so perfectly describes me and how I have lived my life. This is precisely where I find myself, in a place of desperation, surrounded by broken hopes and dreams, and filled with deep resentment at God and the world for failing to meet my impossible demands. It’s not as if I was totally unaware of this truth about how I deal with life. It’s just that coming across this concise paragraph right now was like an arrow to the heart. I really need to meditate deeply on this bit of wisdom from Nouwen and fully accept the truth of it, but do so while holding myself in a cradle of grace and loving-kindness rather than stewing in a cauldron of condemnation and self-loathing. The timing of finding this quote is perfect, even though I hate the fact that it is so spot on. Better to be willing to face the painful truth now than to continue doggedly living this lie. I’m grateful to encounter this now rather than after starting a group here. I feel rather raw right now.
Gary, I had no idea that when I linked your post here, it would end up as a comment here! I hope that is ok. I am not sure what I did. I’m not exactly computer literate. Anyway, your post is very meaningful to me, and I hope it’s ok that I linked it to my blog post.
Kari, I’m honored that you linked me. I’m glad that this post was meaningful to you. Thanks!
Karilynn, I used the link in your name and read the post on your blog. (I’m not quite sure what happened with the actual text in your comment here.)
I was particularly moved by your words, “I thought a few years ago, that I was being forced to begin again, start from scratch with my faith, but now as I sit here, trying to put into perspective all of the broken pieces of information that WAS my faith, I realize I don’t really have much left this time. I never truly did discover who God is. And the question that kept popping up in my head last night as I pondered this was, “How can I love someone I don’t even know?” ”
I can certainly relate to what you wrote, especially that last question. I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but it sounds like there’s a longing in your writing for God to be real and for Him to be good. That seems to be a common experience.
Thanks for reading here and commenting on your blog.