I want to thank you for responding to my post about feeling God’s love. You were so honest in how you described your feelings of discouragement, and the deep wrestling that are undergoing. My heart grieved for you when I read that you have not felt God’s love for over a decade.
When You Fear Deconstruction
Deconstruction unmoors us, it leaves us drifting aimlessly through our questions and struggles. Yet these questions or struggles are rarely answered or addressed; rather, they are displaced or abandoned.. . .But what do you do if you don’t want to deconstruct your faith?
Asking Questions: A spiritual practice for Discouragement and beyond. (A guest post by Kandi Zeller)
In our culture of certainty, questions can seem threatening and unnatural. By contrast, Jesus spent much of his ministry asking questions and challenging assumptions. The sheer volume of these questioning instances in the Gospels should encourage us: if we are to be formed in the image of Christ (Romans 8:29), might we sometimes be formed by asking questions?
It’s Not Hiding When God Knows Where We Are.
What might it look like for you to hide in God, rather than from God? Hiding ourselves in God means we disclose our hurts, our guilts and shames. And yes, this can be hard and dramatic. We disclose ourselves, not because God is not aware of our lives, but because in our confessions we place ourselves in the arms of the one who comes to seek and to save. In doing so, we release ourselves from what binds us, and we rob condemnation of its power.
A Light in our Darkness
The life of faith isn’t always straightforward and clear. There are times when life seems to zig when we wanted it to zag; where suddenly the path before us disappears, and we find ourselves feeling stranded and alone. But the light of God’s loving mercy shines upon us no matter how dark things appear.
Tethered to the Anchor: A Guest post by Mariel Davenport
“They say I’m having a heart attack,” came my husband’s breathless voice on the other end of the phone. It was mid-May, I was sitting in my morning quiet time chair, Bible spread open on my lap when the phone rang.
There is a scene in Luke’s gospel where Peter denies Jesus three times. Immediately following his denials, Peter sees Jesus turn and “looked straight at him” (Luke 22:61). I have often seen this scene through the lens of rebuke. I have pictured Jesus giving Peter a stare of disappointment. Perhaps the faint whisper of “Oh Behave!” can be heard coming from Christ’s lips. When we view Jesus’ gaze this way, it becomes easy to assume that this is how Jesus looks at us.
Why I Write what I Write
The Psalmists spoke of walking through valleys of darkness, ancient writers talked about the Dark night of the Soul; when did we adopt such an unbiblical assumption that our faith is never affected by the highs and lows of our existence. The Christian life that Jesus calls us to is never disconnected from our everyday lives.
The Blessing of a boring Psalm.
Psalm 136 isn’t one of the popular psalms. In fact, if there was ever an award for the most boring of psalms, I’m confident it would go to Psalm 136. The psalm comes across as pedantic, dry, and frankly, a bit uninspired. At first glance, it offers nothing more than a broad retelling of Israel’s history. And if that weren’t enough, every other line in the psalm is the same. That’s right, the psalm repeats the same statement 26 times. It is this repeated verse, however, which is significant.
Searching Rubble for Gold: A guest-post by Sue Fulmore
The legalism, judgementalism, patriarchal systems, and poor Scriptural interpretations all need to be tossed out. As we do so, we also need to guard against tossing out the proverbial baby with them. I would never presume to tell anyone how to go about this process of deconstruction, but I also don’t want us to forget all that is good and worthy of holding onto.