Lauren Sparks

The Sparks Notes

What About My Questions?

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Photo by Emily Morter

I’ve been listening to Annie F. Downs’ podcast called “That Sounds Fun”.  If you haven’t ever tuned in, I would highly recommend it, although it’s not as light and airy as the title implies.  Annie interviews Christian authors, musicians, ministry leaders and athletes currently making an impact for God’s kingdom.  And sometimes the conversations get deep.  Recently she spoke with two back to back guests about crisis’ of faith.  This topic stirred my heart in light of a recent guest lecture I attended at church on Generation Z (kids born between 1999 and 2015 – like mine).  All three resources had one theme in common – the lack of a safe place to take questions.

 

For those of us who came to a believing relationship with Christ at a young age, the decision might have been a no brainer.  When presented with a scenario like, “Jesus loves you.  Won’t you love Him too?”  Of course.  Why not?  Then we grow up.  And although the Bible’s teachings about Jesus remain the same, we awaken to the ever changing landscape of the world.  There are many different flavors of people and we aren’t sure how they all fit in.  We experience heartbreak.  There’s dissension in our church.  Someone we love and respect views the Bible differently than we do.  Disease or death strikes a devastating blow, or our “’til death do us part” falls far short.  When life looks so very different from the way we imagine it, our faith often takes a hit.

 

I have walked with a friend who traveled back to square one – examining EVERYTHING she believed and taking nothing for granted.  I personally have experienced what I’ll call minor doubts – never questioning the existence of a loving God or even a Savior who gave His life for me – but becoming uneasy or unsure of other Biblical teachings and church doctrine.  What do we do with this?  I have heard faith compared to a brick wall.  It stands strong and sturdy, but many believers are afraid that if one brick crumbles near the bottom, the whole thing will topple.  So we shy away from testing the strength of the bricks.  We don’t ask the questions because we are either afraid of the answers or afraid we won’t be able to find the answers.  Or do we fear what others will say/think of our doubts?

 

When we don’t have anywhere to go with our questions or even suspect that our faith is not strong enough to endure them, we are closer than we may realize to abandoning it altogether.  And I’m afraid that’s exactly what happens to many Christians who grow up and out into the world.  They find it easier to walk away than to wrestle.  Who wouldn’t?

 

But the truth is, Christianity has survived for more generations than we can count.  And the Bible remains the most published and read book in the world for hundreds of years now.  More importantly, our God withstands the scrutiny.  When we are wrestling the thing out (studying, praying, seeking counsel), whether it be theological questions, or anger at God, or just flat confusion, we are in relationship with Him.  That’s what He wants.  Communion with us.  Do you remember memorizing John 3:16?  God sent Jesus – this whole thing – because He “so loved the world.”  NIV

 

Testing our faith can make it stronger.  Not only is it important for us to know that personally, but we need to be intentional about making sure our homes and our churches are safe places for people to have doubts.  That’s how we build a strong community of faith.  But as we struggle with issues and feelings we must remember that we are not God.  Isaiah 55:8 NIV says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.  Some things we may not wrap our finite minds completely around.  Although there is evidence to be found, sometimes our faith simply takes faith, which Hebrews 11:1 ESV defines as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  God promises, however, that when we meet Him face to face it heaven, it will all become clear.  “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”  1 Corinthians 13:12 NIV

 

When we wrestle, we actually hold on tight.  That’s the only way to victory.  Think of questioning in those terms.  And happy grappling!

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13 Days in Ferguson

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As some of you know, I have been slowly awakening to the problem of systemic racism in our country and intentionally seeking out people and resources to continue to learn and empathize.  I wrote about that here.  When the opportunity to read a complimentary copy from Tyndale House publishers and review the new memoir 13 Days in Ferguson by Captain Ronald Johnson presented itself, I jumped at the chance.  Because he belonged to the community, the governor thrust Captain Johnson, an African-American Missouri State Trooper, into a leadership role when the shooting of a young, unarmed black man caused rioting in the streets.

 

His earliest musing of this seemingly impossible situation made the hairs on my arms stand up.  “I see both sides.  But there shouldn’t be sides.  Taking sides implies a winner and a loser.  There are no winners here.  Even if some police see it as a battle to be won, I see only a no-win situation. ”  For the five previous nights since Michael Brown’s death on August 14, 2014 police lined up wearing riot gear – shields, camouflage, gas masks, bullet-proof vests – with military-style weapons at the ready and dogs restrained on leashes.  Johnson, now in charge, decides on a different tactic.  He marches.  Not in a line of defense, but side by side with the protestors.  Without even the covering of his bullet-proof vest.  He walks and he talks and he listens.  He gives the angry and hurting people of Ferguson what they haven’t had up until then.  A voice.

 

During the anguishing days that he marched, he saw tiny victories and huge setbacks.  Protestors initially saw him as the enemy because he wore a badge.  Law enforcement, even those he had served alongside for years, questioned his loyalty to the badge due to his lack of force in dealing with the constituents.  The Captain lets the reader into his loneliness and inner turmoil, and eventually the anguish that swallowed him whole when he felt forced to call for tear gas and riot gear as the protestors once again turned to violence and other criminal activity.

 

In the retelling of those harrowing days, Johnson admits to mistakes and regrets, but ultimately enough improvement in the community’s safety to call the city back to business as usual by the end of the month of August.  And yet, everything has changed. After a relatively calm fall, the news in late November that the grand jury decided not to indict Darren Wilson, the police officer responsible for Brown’s death, again incites protests and riots.  This time it lasts only a couple of days.  Then in March of the following year, the Department of Justice concludes its 6 month investigation into the Ferguson Police Department, finding that it “was routinely violating the constitutional rights of its black residents”, using force “almost exclusively on blacks and regularly stopp[ing] people without probable cause.”  The police chief resigned one week later.  Baby steps.  Inches.  But change.

 

Through it all Captain Johnson leaned on his faith in God and the sanctuary of the bathroom to cry out in prayer.  And yet our country still bleeds.  Cities all across the nation continue to have racially driven incidents and compare themselves to Ferguson.  But as James Baldwin said,

“Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

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Click here to read the first chapter for free!

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