The Year I Lost my Faith

This past year, the beginning of a new decade, was wow. Just wow. 

Okay it was more than that. It was pretty awful. 

I can still feel the sorrow of going to sleep one evening, and waking up to a world that was quiet. No cars on the street, no planes in the sky. No groceries on the shelves. 

It was terrifying. 

We moved to our new barn condo the night before the shut-down, to make sure we didn’t have so many eyes on us as we gathered with dear friends to move out of our house. It was a good call.

We ate spinach out of a can. That was nasty. No offense.

We didn’t eat meat one week, because it was all gone.

We ran out of toilet paper and borrowed rolls from some friends until we snagged some at the store. 

What was supposed to be two weeks has turned into nine months, and honestly, I’m still reeling. 

I’ve had nightmares from the stress, I’ve had panic attacks from the masks. I’ve seen sorrow from those who’ve lost loved ones, and seen way too many relationships explode than I can count. 

It made me loose faith…

Not in God. In humanity.

I’ve spilled many tears over the confliction I’ve felt, as it took me months to put a name to the emotion. I’ve learned it is grief. I’ve been in mourning the normal that’s been lost. My freedom to wear or not wear a face covering as I so please without stare-downs in the grocery aisle. I’ve grieved the relationships lost over the racial strife and political war that we experienced this past summer and fall. I’ve missed cherished time with those I love, who’ve decided it’s best not to leave their homes. Even though my nuclear family is still by my side, I, like anyone else, has lost a lot, truly. And it hurts, as it should.

I’ve lost faith in humanity, but have found something greater… a renewed sense of love , dependency and neediness towards my Lord, my God, my Shepard, my Mighty Counselor, my Prince of Peace and Creator of the Universe.

My Father, in heaven. 

I lost faith in the church, after experiencing the wounding words of “wokeness” in the name of racial reconciliation. No one should ever have the words “racist” or “supremacist” pointed at them, ever. And hearing those words from your own church home isn’t unforgivable, but it definitely brings a challenge to forgiveness unbounded. Yet, through the loss of a place I’d once sought to worship, I struggled through the blessing of release. Releasing an expectation of a great, united church home here on this earth to instead pursue Oneness with the global church body, as we wait in hope of the return of the love of our lives, Jesus Christ. I was gifted, out of the ashes of this great loss, a deep desire to serve my God and seek Him in every moment I have, pursuing peaceful Brothers and Sisters in the faith to grow alongside, and laying to rest the idea of the “perfect church” that would help me pursue God. Instead, we’d pursue Him together, united, in love, with or without a church. Most importantly though, with each other. With that hope in mind, my little family has sought out a new church to worship at, having all the faith that God will give us a body that is just what we need, not to serve ourselves, but to plug into and better serve Him.

I lost faith in people this year. 

The snarky remarks, the name calling, the propaganda, the hate. So much hate. 

You’d think that a pandemic would bring people to realize what’s important, but somehow, this time really bought out the worst in many. The political cycle really didn’t help matters, as suddenly the name of God was tied to a political party and presidential candidate versus the God in man form who came and sacrificed his life on the cross for us to have eternal life with the Father. 

How sad is that? How faithless and atrocious that American Christians would trade devilish men of the world for the King of the Universe and then condemn and crucify each other under the umbrella of “political correctness and wokeness.” 

I was appalled and disgusted. The words I saw and received even personally- some of them were just so evil. However, there were the moments that redeemed my little faith in humanity. The times when kindness won, when encouragement was sent to me, when a sister in christ said “I hear you,” or “I care about you.” I learned that Oneness with other Christians, no matter the way they voted, was something to strive for on all levels. That where the devil seeks to divide, and if we stay in unity together, we actually are stronger together. 

I lost faith in politics. 

The fight to kill unborn babies. The battle to transfigure men into women, and women into men, and call it good. The call for reform, and new language to be used, new laws, less guns, more this, less that. It was something that turned into a game to me. And I lost my faith in it. No matter who sits in the oval office, the King still sits on his throne. He was the great ochestrater, the one and only Divine, and the measly men on earth, that were to be used by God, heck, that were APPOINTED BHIM...ho w have we so quickly forgotten that? Yet, in this loss, I grew in the faith that God was the ultimate shot-caller. The ultimate judge. And that no matter how skewed to the left or the right believers and non-believers alike may be, we all face the exact same judgment at the end of the day.

So it’s pertinent that we repent, everyday, today if you never hve before, and believe in the Gospel.

I lost faith in humanity, in the dominion of the earth, but I was gifted with a renewed sense of purpose. To love God and His people with everything in me, no matter what, and to share the gospel, however I can. To lay down my life to serve and love others. To tame my tongue, to bypass judgement. 

Because that’s what we’re here for.