When I reflect, I find that there were two influences that led to my decision to become a Christian. Both of these influences were strong in my life by the time I was seventeen.
The first was the constant promoting of Christianity, and it came through a number of sources, the first being the Catholic Church I was raised in. If not for the weekly parading before my eyes of God’s mystery, Christ’s suffering, and my own guilt and sinfulness, I may have found the whole thing the trivial equivalent of a promotion on the back of a cereal box. But the information was given consistently, and over time the passion of it sank in.
This strand of influence was also represented powerfully enough in the popular culture of the day. I could start with the number of times I watched Ben Hur every Easter season, but even the appearance of Jesus Christ Superstar when I was in high school had its impact, even in its denial of the resurrection.
This strand might have done nothing to shape me, however, if not for the other–and that is the relationships I had with practicing Christians. In late high school, I had three friends like this, one my best friend at the time, and the other two graduate students who worked in the same restaurant where I bused tables. It was these relationships–where I began to talk about my concerns and doubts and raise all of my questions and clarify all of my misconceptions–that I began to move toward a lifelong struggle of being a committed Christian.
That struggle hasn’t been easy. But it never would have started without both of the influences I’ve mentioned.
Today, I can see that I am a Christian because I was captivated by the truth and the challenges of Christ’s life when I was a teenager and still making my mind up about things. The life of Jesus together with my seeing it lived out in a few committed people around me, and not some program or way of doing chapel, stood between me and what I thought was the abyss.
Now, despite working at what are called “Christian institutions” for twenty-three of my thirty-four years of my adult working life, and despite losing my youngest son to suicide, I am still a Christian, still struggling with what it means to be in Christ. It has been more difficult lately because I have not found the church as a whole to be open to helping me in my struggles. I find that others haven’t experienced what I have, and they don’t want to talk about it, or let me talk about it.
I also don’t really appreciate the cultural extremities of the Evangelical movement any longer or respond to their forms of personal piety and desire for cultural relevance all while ignoring very real social injustice and even making fun of those they refer to as “social justice warriors.” I wince a little whenever I see another white evangelical follow “Black Lives Matter” with, “No, All Lives Matter.”
As one who is increasingly an outsider to this largely white, middle class, American cultural representation of a two thousand year old faith that has deep, rich roots in Judaism, I grapple with what it means to be a Christian in my circumstances–as a suicide survivor, as a professor in a “Christian” institution that has treated people very poorly. I have been supported by individual Christians, but not so much the church as an institution. So far as I can see today, there are no Christian institutions, only buildings and structures supported by the money of white, upper and middle class Americans, many of them strong believers.
What keeps me in the struggle is knowing that there are believers, people who believe in Christ, who make up the hidden, true core of the church. The visible institutions, with their branding and advertisements and spectacles, encourage no extra motivation to be reflective. While this spectacle might be what some young people need today, and certainly it can have a profound effect, in fact, most of it takes up most of the time in today’s churches, because it is easier to manage a lot of people who don’t think too much.
There are the individuals, and I can see the hand of the unseen at work in their lives. This is what keeps me returning to this faith, even with unanswered questions.
So well put, Tom. I appreciate this kind of candor. It is largely absent in church circles, since we tend to applaud surety and firm doctrine and disparage doubt and genuine faith-struggle. Thank you.
Thank you so much for reading, Ron. I do understand the need for sound doctrine–it does constitute most of Christian growth. At the same time, it did take me quite a long time to accept that doubt, rather than being an enemy to belief, could actually be accepted as part of it in some way.
As always you write clearly and articulately, Tom. You make me think about why I am a Christian. It is a critical question. Being a pastor my career now depends on my faith in Christ. I am continually asking myself if I truly believe what I say. It is a daily sincerity check. My sense is that you do much the same. And like you it saddens me to see how the Christian faith is in my view stripped of compassion by those Christians who see President Trump as “our” great champion. I see him causing great damage to the name of Christ, yet in the name of Christ many fellow Chritians cheer him on. The gap in what it means to be a Christian is so wide it is at times hard to bridge. And then I read something like this and feel strengthened in my faith. Thanks. And God bless.
David, thank you so much for reading. It’s great to get a second perspective from a pastor who is also bothered by the way we’ve politicized into a specific ideology how the church should be. I imagine it makes your work very difficult.
Tom,
Thank you for honestly sharing your ongoing struggles with your pain and the unsatisfactory support you have received from your church and APU. I am so sorry that those institutions have seemed to fail you in general, but there are individuals in both who love you and your family, who pray for you, and who want God to break through and redeem your pain. I have just finished reading Eric Metaxas’ biography about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and I was struck with how genuine was Bonhoeffer’s reliance on Christ as the center of this earthly life. You might find this book helpful now or perhaps in the future. Blessings.
Gail, thank you for reading, and for your kind response. I have been meaning to read the Metaxas biography on Bonhoeffer for a long time. Perhaps I will get to it soon.
Well said.
Thank you, David, for reading.