There is a church mantra that states that reason is in opposition to faith. Obviously many Christians don’t feel that way. Or – we don’t up to a certain point.

The broad stroke with which modern Christianity is often painted entails a system of brainwashing. We tell each other that some things can’t be explained with logic, and it is in those things that we humbly accept what we believe the Lord has said, despite our inclinations to the contrary.

Within actual Christian lives, the scenario is often far less extreme – but not entirely different. In any good (perhaps literalist) church, you’ll hear these verses used in answer to the world’s mysteries. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. Not many who are wise have been called. Our battles are not of the flesh.

I like to make the assumption that we believers are not brainwashed zombie shells of people. It’s impossible to entirely ignore what we learn empirically – that is, if the Bible said the sky weren’t blue, my eyes would eventually offer enough evidence for me to confront the inconsistency of the two, or in the very least, to mildly doubt the veracity of one.

And this is the Christianity that I know and respect. Those of us who refuse to say, “The sky is not blue, and I know that because the Bible says so.” True – if I believed those words, I’d find a place for them in my heart despite my greatest doubts. But my ability to reason is essential, normal, and a great and even loyal companion of my faith.

I’m sure there’s some divinity school student who could offer a bullet list of the ways we can decide what God’s word means in a given context. I, unfortunately, am not quite so educated in theological research. But I know how to explore reason to far-reaching ends without fearing for the loss of my faith.

Let me be clear. I am not speaking philosophically. I’m not interested in discussing how a God of love could allow evil. I do not (any longer) involve myself in fruitless what-ifs, nor do I care to read any more treatises from the world’s greatest thinkers. I – and this is a personal preference – am only interested in here and now. Here and now each contain enough conflict with the words of religion to keep me busy for the rest of my life. The Christianity that I love endorses my feelings – a subject which I will perhaps touch on later, Biblical examples and all.

What keeps the majority of us, in every diverse leaning and belief, unable to stand up entirely straight is a fundamental inability to trust that in which we trust. We are unable to reach straight up for it because we are constantly leaning out of the way of something we fear will destroy that which we believe to be indestructible. We most often lean in order to protect it.

And why not. Answer me that. It’s reasonable. React when threatened. Like this:

(I had an image but am too lazy to upload it. Whatever. I guess just ignore the next paragraph.)

That’s us in the middle there. We ought to stand up straight. But from the overhead view you can see that if we grow up in, let’s say the pink Tradition slice, we may eventually feel the pull of the Science slice… and in order to counteract this feeling of pulling, we lean further in to our home – Tradition. Or we begin to lean toward the Science slice. Either way two things are true: we feel conflict, and we lean.

There’s a lot more that can be said about these things. But what nags at me here and now is what I’ll address. When you give your heart to something, you begin to rest your identity within it. Or – let’s take me this time. My “Faith” has my heart. Not my religion. My faith has very few details. Jesus, love, forgiveness, unselfishness, and that’s about the sum of it. I trust it to regulate all the situations that fall under it. Meaning most of the rules in the Bible are relatively worthless to me on a here and now basis.

When I say things like that, I feel the pull of Religion. I begin to wonder if there’s more to it. But then I remember I don’t think so. Then I wonder whether God is upset with me. And I remember, I don’t believe in that. This is me wavering – not my faith – and it is not dangerous to my faith. It is NOT “wavering faith” to doubt, nor is it instability to invest yourself in wondering or to fully and unabashedly confront all contradictions within yourself. An unsteady faith is one which you believe you can negate or lose track of simply by your unwillingness to comply with it. Which is part of my probable adherence to the sovereignty doctrine, but that’s for another day. At the very least, you can agree with me that lying to oneself is rarely the best course of action.

In my case, I know thanks to a miserable life makeover I had once that my faith is secure. It’s not going anywhere. And perhaps that’s the key – knowing it’s real. Maybe I can stand up straight now because I have empirically (yes) seen Faith refusing to leave me despite horrors and indescribable utterly evil chaos, refusing to be angry with me, simplifying itself and shattering the doubts I once had about it.

So – of course, I respect an empirical person. One who is brave enough not to fear their faith changing while they were turned another direction. One humble enough not to think that their behaviors or discoveries can impact what’s True, and how it relates to them. In my case, not thinking that anything could separate me from the love of God – though I have violently doubted that very truth. (If you look at my Water/Ice essay you’ll see what it is that I suspect we can actually change.) And finally, I respect someone free enough to skip across my little pie chart like a child in a field of wildflowers, feeling and smelling and touching, without any fear.

That was the point. But I’m going to add this to clarify what I started to say and obviously lost.

Everyone’s faith looks different, and what I say here is not an accusation. It is, perhaps, a warning that you’ve yet to be tested fully – although, again, not everyone is tested to the highest level, and I think that’s fine too. When you feel threatened by another belief, it is because you do not fully trust your own. And although you may have wisely and without illusion placed your life and soul into it – you still have a sense that you’re on a journey to “find what’s true,” even while you strongly suspect that you are already inside it. This is a situation that has long since passed for me – what makes me so special? Beats the bullshit out me. It was a very distinct and deadly force that pushed me here. Still.

If you find yourself unable to trust that thing in which you have already placed your trust, I advise you not to fear an empirical life. What’s true will show up eventually. Consider today the 7pm of a dinner party you’re throwing. Truth seems to be late – and anyway you don’t know what he looks like so he might already be here somewhere, mingling. Maybe at 7:30 you’ll be listening to a story when you feel someone walk past, and he’s distinctive – he has to be Truth. But where did he go? Then at 8:10, someone repeats something he said tonight, and so on. What are you finding? Not truth. But evidence of it – which is a far stronger argument – even than a promise.

A whole slew of situations are like this. Did my husband promise to buy me a house? Am I living in a house? Even though I have placed my entire life in my husband’s hands, the only way I know the truth about him is if I can see and feel that I am living in a house that my husband bought. Despite what a good philosophy student might preach, it’s incredibly necessary for us to know how to put the cart before the horse. Risk, risk, risk. That is a real life.

So we choose faith, and oftentimes, religion. And when we disagree with our religions, we seek resolution. Do not be motivated by fear that you made the wrong choice. It’s entirely possible for these fears to create in you a madwoman; one who exhausts herself saying “I have a house around here somewhere!” This instead of any number of less regrettable insights, like maybe, “I made a mistake in believing my husband.” Who would fault her for having been deceived?

Likewise, who will fault you for saying, “The Bible says the sky is not blue, and I see a blue sky. Instead of understanding the Bible better, I’d like to understand the sky better.”

Well, I’ll tell you who. People who don’t believe that the truth is here and now.

Pastors ought not teach other believers to doubt the strength of truth in this way. Reason is the friend of faith. God’s truth is indestructible. The sky is merely a temporary illustration of the inner workings of creation. I mean creation as a concept and an aspect of God. If you refuse to allow people to explore the parables that are provided for us, then, to borrow a phrase from Browning, we will continue to ‘blindly grope’ until there is nothing left in us but doctrine and fear.

If you haven’t been lucky enough to see what I’ve seen, I charge you to approach all things with hope.