A Holy Discontent

The journey began with a restless slumber. Not a physical sleep; I was spiritually asleep. I had become unsatisfied with the answers that were being offered by the news media (liberal or conservative), by the political parties (Republican or Democrat), and American Christianity.  My ministry itself was in a stagnant, non-flowing state, and my personal motivation had slowed down as much. Every vantage point was bland and uninspired. I wasn’t depressed, mind you; but I was somewhere between slumber and consciousness. The beginning of my awakening would be ignited from an unlikely source.

An old friend posted an article by a former evangelical who was now an agnostic or atheist on his Facebook page. In the article, the author was debunking the bible and explaining his reasons for abandoning Christianity. My friend who posted it was not offering any explanation of his own views, so I contacted him and asked him. I was interested in knowing because he had been largely responsible for my own coming to Christ; he actually baptized me. So, I asked him, and his answer didn’t really surprise me.

He explained that he didn’t believe in Christianity anymore. He explained that he didn’t like to talk about it because of two reasons: 1) people want to argue with him, especially those who knew him as a youth minister; and 2) people want to convert him. Either one he was not going to do, he told me. I told him I understood (which I did) and that he didn’t have to fear either one from me.

The timing could not have been better. I was already becoming disenchanted with American Christianity, as well as I my own spiritual impotence and listlessness.  I loved Jesus, but the answers that I had become so comfortable with were no longer answering the questions. To be more specific, the answers weren’t completely wrong, they just didn’t seem to fit anymore. They filled in the blanks, but only partially – and with a lot of gaps in between the words and ideas they were formed from. They were more like Band-Aids placed on long, deep, gaping lacerations… like pieces of new, unshrunk cloth being used to patch old wineskins.

A month before the above took place, I had prayed a simple yet very sincere prayer: “Lord Jesus, I want to do away with all other titles – Republican, Democrat, Charismatic, Evangelical, whatever – I want only to be your follower. Please lead me into your gospel and make me your follower.”  I didn’t even feel comfortable with the title of “Christian” because of what I saw in American Christianity. As far as I can tell, he took me up on that prayer. He’s answering.

The journey begins.