It’s been about a year since I let go of religious doctrines that I had never truly claimed in my heart. The journey has been a rocky one, full of tears and anguish, full of joy and eagerness. There have been ebbs and flows. Times when I felt I was drowning in an immeasurably good God, times when I genuinely doubted that God is good at all, and times when I felt overwhelmed with pressure to figure out what God wants me to believe about Him. For the first time, I’ve realized that my perception of God is not ironclad because I draw it from the Bible, and that my perceptions color my reading of God’s Word just as surely as they color everything else.
I’ve had moments where I believe what I want to believe, because I’m tired of denying what my heart tells me is truth. I’ve had moments when I wonder if I ought to believe anything at all, unless it’s something that God actually comes down and tells me explicitly is true. I think sometimes that this is the only way I could ever know truth. In all, my search for truth has often felt like a never-ending maze. A maze which, when I turn a corner, I find about a dozen more options, a dozen more paths to choose from.
In the midst of all this, though, I’ve also discovered in a very profound way what it means to put my faith in God. When I don’t know the answers to all of the hard questions, it suddenly becomes a lot more important to trust in the goodness of God. When my own eyes see dark and blurry and confusing images, the light of God’s love feels so much brighter and clearer. When I refuse to pin my idea of God down with a particular theological belief, my mind is freed to imagine the immeasurable, immutable, mystifying nature of my Father in heaven.