I Miss My Old Faith

I didn’t grasp until yesterday morning how much I miss my old faith. A deep sadness settled over me as I read When God Changed His Mind by Christina Custodio. Considering her upbeat approach to the difficult circumstances she described in her book, my darkness seemed out of place.

I met Christina at the end of the Asheville Writer’s Conference while heading out to my car. She was taking pictures of a fellow author and said she could also take mine. You’ll see an update on my website soon with the beautiful results of her work. We exchanged business cards and parted ways. When I got home, I pulled up her website. As soon as I saw the description of her book, I knew I needed to read it.

I was crying before the end of the first chapter, but later chapters often put a grin on my face. Her story is honest, heartfelt, and faith-filled. It reminds me of my early years as a Christian. Newly converted and young, my faith was like hers, fresh and new. As I read her story and how she approached it in faith, I realized that my sadness was grief. I was missing my old faith.

The faith of my childhood

Faith was more straightforward when it was new. If God said it, I believed it. When I didn’t believe it, I rearranged my life or thoughts to conform to what I read in God’s Word. Every experience in life was another opportunity to either learn God’s ways or teach them to others. As a person who loves to learn, this was an ideal way to approach God.

More than that, there was excitement. God was constantly doing new things in my life. I saw his hand at work and thanked him often for what he was doing in and through me. Unanswered prayers indicated I hadn’t waited long enough, asked correctly, or God had better plans for me. My spiritual life was vibrant and refreshing.

It’s not that life was always easy. When my brother, David, died at fifteen, I was angry at God. Since I didn’t work through my grief well, I struggled with depression well into my adulthood, Yet, I remained confident. Hebrews 11 described my faith: Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see (Hebrews 11:1 NIV). Confidence feels good; assurance brings peace. Through my adult years, however, my confidence was shaken.

The faith of my adulthood

The faith of my childhood was not childish; it was childlike. The faith of my adulthood is not more mature or developed. It’s just the journey that God has called me to. I still believe that God answers prayers, works miracles, gives hope, and instills joy. More than that, I believe God loves me and watches over me constantly in many ways. But my faith has been tempered by trials and hurts.

The losses and rejections I have experienced in the last 15 years have altered my heart and soul. Many of those wounds are fresh enough that I feel compelled to protect myself. Sometimes, I get defensive and mean as I push people or God away from my sensitive areas. I don’t know if such a thing exists, but if it did, I could be diagnosed with spiritual PTSD. I have intrusive memories, practice avoidance, and have experienced negative changes in thinking and mood in my spiritual life.

Each hurt shook my confidence in what I hoped for. I still pray, but I am not confident that God will answer my prayers as they are asked. I remain assured that God exists and that he loves me. I am not assured that his plans for my life look square with my plans for my life. In some ways, that’s OK. As Bebo Norman sings in The Only Hope, God has better plans for my life. Yes, I’m much better off in his hands than my own. But I enjoyed the old confidence.

The faith of my future

I don’t yet know what my faith will look like in the future. A part of me wishes I would return to my childhood faith. I doubt that is possible. But I also don’t know what the faith of my adulthood will become as God heals my wounds. The scars will be an important part of my story. The joy that draws me will be equally important…much as it was for Jesus. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:2).

My old friend, Darkness, has descended on my life again. This time, I grieve an experience rather than a person, but the loss is no less real. I look to the future and see hope and joy ahead of me…in time. First, my friend and I need to walk together, and I need to learn from him again. He’ll teach me about life, God, myself, and others. Like Mary, I will ponder some of these things in my head and heart (Luke 2:19). Others, I will use to comfort others (2 Corinthians 1:4). Either way, my grief is an important part of me and my story.

Has your faith changed since the day you first believed? What brought about the changes? What have you lost, and what have you gained? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.