When Faith Fails
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name
I’ve heard faith described as a muscle—something that gets stronger with use and atrophies with disuse. Difficult times, I’ve been told, will “strengthen my faith.” One of the worst things that can happen, in some Christian circles, is to only believe during the easy times; to “lose your faith” during the hard times might even mean you never had faith to start with.
I don’t think faith is something that can be lost, like a sock in a dryer. But I do know there are times when my faith just doesn’t work. There’s probably a more eloquent way to explain this, but I’ve yet to come up with one.
When darkness veils His lovely face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil
This used to be me. I used to cling to verses like “my thoughts are not your thoughts,” “my grace is sufficient for you,” and “all things work together for good.” Often, I wish this were still me. I wish I could say that, through the storms I’ve encountered in the past few years—deaths of beloved family members and some other difficult circumstances, the details of which don’t matter—that my anchor has held firm and never wavered.
But I can’t.
At one time, I would have tried to find ways to bolster my faith—praying more, pouring over the pages of my Bible—as if squeezing my eyes shut and believing harder is enough to carry a person through difficult times.
But it’s not.
And so, when my faith fails, when the doubts creep in, when all around my soul gives way, rather than trying to white-knuckle some specific version of being a Christian, I’ve found myself leaning into the faith of my friends and the community around me.
Recently, during a particularly trying moment, I called a close friend, simply because I needed to hear her say the words I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe: that God has a plan and it will all work out.
Yes, it may be true that each of us needs to make our faith our own. But I think it’s equally true that we need to remember that our faith is not a solo sport.
It’s not an original thought to me, though I can’t remember where I heard it first to give proper credit. But when I’m not sure what to believe—and in the moments when I don’t think I believe anything at all—I’m grateful to be part of a larger community that not only holds audacious beliefs with confidence and conviction, but holds the space for those of us who can’t.
And when we can, it’s our turn to hold the space for others.
Which is, after all, what being part of the body of Christ is all about.
Photo by Providence Doucet on Unsplash
