I happened to see a quote this morning from one Parker J. Palmer on Philip Yancey's Facebook page.
It has been said that no one doubts more often or more deeply than the genuine man of faith, for he is introspective, rigorous about what he believes, and he is so because it is important. For him, and for her, there is no such thing as "blind" faith, nor can his interrogations be muzzled by shouts of Hallelujah! Praise God!
Oh, there are those fearful souls who take shelter in the comforting din of such exclamations, a response which is in some sense the same as holding one's hands over one's ears while repeating familiar slogans--more a political act than a measure of faith. I know more than a few such folks, God love 'em, and some even stand behind pulpits.
In his book, In Two Minds, theologian, Os Guiness writes:
"If ours is an examined faith, we should be unafraid to doubt. If doubt is eventually justified, we were believing what clearly was not worth believing. But if doubt is answered, our faith has grown stronger. It knows God more certainly and it can enjoy God more deeply.”
An examined faith, a faith subjected to scrutiny, becomes thereby a deeper faith, truly confident from one stepping stone to the next, rather than merely loud or incantatory. Repetition, contrary to what seems often the popular belief, does not make the repeated thing true (although it does appeal to those given to magical thinking).
And when you pray, the Lord said, do not keep babbling like pagans, because they think they will be heard because of their many words.
And, I might add, as long as they keep talking, they won't need to be listening, or pausing to acknowledge doubts or ask questions.
If one does not ask questions, one cannot progress beyond what is partial, shaky, infantile.
Novelist Anne Lamott puts it this way:
My coming to faith did not start with a leap but rather a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place to another. Like lily pads, round and green, these places summoned and then held me up while I grew. Each prepared me for the next leaf on which I would land, and in this way I moved across the swamp of doubt and fear.
Each lily pad is different from the other, but the swamp remains one body of water.
Faith, hope, and love are formed of their own substance, and we learn by increments the fullness of each as our souls, through interaction, examine the depths of each.
[My apologies for the various fonts and spacings. Seems that blogspot preferred to do its own thing this morning]
“The deeper our faith, the more doubt we endure;
the deeper our hope, the more prone we are to despair;
the deeper our love, the more pain its loss will bring:
these are a few of the paradoxes we must hold as human beings.
If we refuse to hold them in the hopes of living without doubt, despair, and pain, we also find ourselves living without faith, hope, and love.
I like this for its economy in phraseology, and because it's true.the deeper our hope, the more prone we are to despair;
the deeper our love, the more pain its loss will bring:
these are a few of the paradoxes we must hold as human beings.
If we refuse to hold them in the hopes of living without doubt, despair, and pain, we also find ourselves living without faith, hope, and love.
It has been said that no one doubts more often or more deeply than the genuine man of faith, for he is introspective, rigorous about what he believes, and he is so because it is important. For him, and for her, there is no such thing as "blind" faith, nor can his interrogations be muzzled by shouts of Hallelujah! Praise God!
Oh, there are those fearful souls who take shelter in the comforting din of such exclamations, a response which is in some sense the same as holding one's hands over one's ears while repeating familiar slogans--more a political act than a measure of faith. I know more than a few such folks, God love 'em, and some even stand behind pulpits.
In his book, In Two Minds, theologian, Os Guiness writes:
"If ours is an examined faith, we should be unafraid to doubt. If doubt is eventually justified, we were believing what clearly was not worth believing. But if doubt is answered, our faith has grown stronger. It knows God more certainly and it can enjoy God more deeply.”
An examined faith, a faith subjected to scrutiny, becomes thereby a deeper faith, truly confident from one stepping stone to the next, rather than merely loud or incantatory. Repetition, contrary to what seems often the popular belief, does not make the repeated thing true (although it does appeal to those given to magical thinking).
And when you pray, the Lord said, do not keep babbling like pagans, because they think they will be heard because of their many words.
And, I might add, as long as they keep talking, they won't need to be listening, or pausing to acknowledge doubts or ask questions.
If one does not ask questions, one cannot progress beyond what is partial, shaky, infantile.
Novelist Anne Lamott puts it this way:
My coming to faith did not start with a leap but rather a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place to another. Like lily pads, round and green, these places summoned and then held me up while I grew. Each prepared me for the next leaf on which I would land, and in this way I moved across the swamp of doubt and fear.
Each lily pad is different from the other, but the swamp remains one body of water.
Faith, hope, and love are formed of their own substance, and we learn by increments the fullness of each as our souls, through interaction, examine the depths of each.
[My apologies for the various fonts and spacings. Seems that blogspot preferred to do its own thing this morning]
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