On the Other Hand ...

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a piece for our church website on Disappointed Christians--believers who had lost their faith.

I thought I was writing for those other poor souls who had strayed from the path. Turns out, it was for me.

In just a few days, I was contemplating driving my car into a tree, just to ease the desperation I felt. That thought passed, but I found myself considering other, less violent options. Pills? Carbon monoxide?

My cowardice ultimately won the day. Besides, what if the Catholics were right, and committing the sin of self-murder left no possibility for penance or forgiveness? I was going to throw away everything God had done for me and in me, just because things were tough?

I also know what it's like to pick up the pieces after a family member commits suicide. No way I could inflict that on my loved ones.

Alright, but I'm definitely quitting Christianity. No more church, no prayer, no Bible reading. It's all pointless! I'm just going to be a quiet cynic.

No, that wouldn't work either.

I'd be faking it. Too much water under the bridge.

God let me squeal and wail for a night, then gently led me back to the path.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.

For me, that's never been so real.

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