There have been times in my life where my faith was so centered on my prayer life, and my desire to pray, that when my prayer life faltered, my faith went with it. It almost felt like a curse, like I had no ground to walk on. I would ask myself why I felt so far from God, and why my prayers just weren't working. I felt like it was not normal, so I wouldn't tell anybody about it. I would keep on going through the motions, acting like I was on a spiritual high, but inside I was dying for an answer. From what I understood at the time, not praying and not going to church, and not feeling God's presence was a sign that something was wrong with me. And, there was. And, there still is.
I have a tendency to believe so strongly in certain ideas, that I couldn't possibly think that my beliefs could be wrong. My faith will then gravitate around these ideas, like for instance, that God literally created the world in seven days, or that man was created in a minute using the dust of the earth. Then, when I hear the evolution theory or theories of quantum physics, I may tune it out, writing it off as heresy or unrealistic. The Big Bang theory doesn't mesh with my belief in a world created in seven days, so the Big Bang is false. Or, for instance, I tend to gravitate towards Jesus' sermon on the mount. So, in reality, I believe killing an enemy is always wrong. I also believe not feeding the hungry when the opportunity arises is always wrong. One of the dangers, though, in centering faith around ideas and teachings is that eventually my faith will be thrown around in a blender. For example, lets say I'm a college student and I'm also a literal creationist (the belief in the literal seven-day creation). My professor describes to the class the techniques of using a telescope. Then, the class goes on a field trip to observe different stars and systems in the sky. The professor mentions that what we are actually looking at is millions of years old. It just doesn't make sense. The professor says that the amount of time it actually takes for the light from the star I'm looking at to reach the lens of my telescope is one million light years. I leave confused beyond belief.
Two weeks later, the professor explains that scientists have learned how planets, stars, and solar systems are created, and he says they know this through observation. Through the telescopic lens, scientists over the last century all over the world, have been able to collect comprehensive data describing the age, density, composition, characteristics, and distance of all the lights we see in the sky. Through this data, I learn that nothing in the universe is created in seconds, minutes, hours, or days. A star is not created in a day. It changes throughout the course of a day, but the thing I look at in the sky took millions of years to form and produce light.
Driving home after class, my mind is a washing machine. It's so jumbled because it wants to throw out everything I've just heard. It goes against my faith in a seven day creation story. But, being the faithful person I am, I'm not going to let these scientists prove my faith wrong. I'm going to bite the bullet, and disregard everything I've just heard. It's too radical. It messes up everything I've ever believed. A few days later, I'm still feeling this horrible dread in my heart. Something's going on inside of me, but I can't explain what it is. It's a loneliness, a sense of loss. My foundation feels like it's cracked and in need of repair. I become resentful toward science and professors everywhere. I begin a campaign outlawing the teaching of evolution in high schools, because it would be horrible if kids everywhere had to get their foundation rocked like I have. Pretty soon, I have a group of people around me who believe in a literal seven day creation, and we try to tell other people about the threat of science on faith.
Throughout the daily fight, though, something deep inside me knows that something is a little off. I can't describe it in words, but it feels like my heart is being squeezed. I go to bed feeling more and more hopeless, thinking, "What if the professor was right? What if it did take millions of years for the Earth, and plant life, and mankind to form? What if Eve didn't magically appear out of a rib from Adam, but it took thousands, possibly millions, of years?" In order to fall asleep because my depression about the subject has gotten so bad, I routinely convince myself that I'm right and the professor is badly mistaken. Day in, day out. Night in, night out. I fight this inward battle, holding as firmly as I can to my belief in a seven day creation. In order to secure my faith, I have to completely stay away from anyone who believes in evolution or the Big Bang theory. They're a threat to my faith. I may even go to the point of calling them false witnesses. Over months of grappling, I learn how to keep those evil thoughts out of my mind about that professor and what he said. I'm able to deny the fact that I even went on the field trip and looked at those stars. I look up at the night sky, and the bright lights have no meaning. They just shine. They happen to be there because God threw them there, or stuck them in their precise position. The sun becomes stagnant. The moon becomes the random object in the sky that provides light at night. The earth is disconnected from the Moon, the moon from the sun, the sun from the stars, and the stars from the universe. Everything is independent and stagnant. Nothing has meaning except for the small parts they played over the course of seven days. In order for my faith to be protected, I can't allow the universe to have meaning.
This is a scary place to be in, on both sides of the spectrum. For the scientist, it's a scary thing to know that there are things like black holes and gravity that can't be explained, but to gloss over any inference of the divine. For the faithful, it's a scary thing to hold so tightly to a belief, that even when it's proven wrong, they can still deny it even happened. Science and faith, in their purest sense, point to the divine attributes of a creative God. From the way God's spirit hovered over the waters of the earth, to the biological microsystems that evolved over millions of years into carbon-filled algae, science and faith co-exist to expose the creative working of a god who uses literature as well as physics to reveal to us the inner workings of his creation.
I believe studying the scriptures and studying the universe must both be done with questions. To constantly be on the lookout for an answer that will satisfy my belief system, I am putting myself at huge risk. I will find myself becoming so in love with my faith, that I fall out of love with the author of my faith. I believe faith is very important in achieving qualities like peace, freedom, and security, but my faith has to be in God, not in my lop-sided belief systems. When reading the Bible, I have to decide for myself, "What am I looking for?" If I'm looking for answers, I'm always going to run down a rabbit trail, even though I'm almost positive I can dig out the answer I'm looking for. For the record, I see gray, black, and white when I read the Bible. There are some parts of it that I ask God, "What the hell were you thinking wiping out that whole city? Were you out of your mind?" There are other parts that I'm like, "Wow. God, you're amazing." I think it's ridiculous to think that the Bible is the only evidence I need to know God, and to develop my faith. There are probably trillions of people from past to present, who never even heard of the Bible. Did they just somehow miss out on the whole God thing? Were they the unfortunate ones?
Believing the right things doesn't get me any extra rewards with God, just like believing in a literal seven day creation and denying any reality of scientific discovery won't get me anything on earth besides a constant headache. Personal faith is good, but God's faith is great. His faith in us makes our faith in him look ridiculous. Through asking questions in my studies of the scriptures, and not looking for quick-fixes, I'm able to see a God who loves us more than we could ever imagine. Our faith in God becomes less significant and unimpressive, while God's faith in us begins to overwhelm us as we see how cherished we really are.
I need to make one last point before I wrap this up. Faith does not replace the hard work of changing. For example, for years I thought that since I believed the right things I could get away with drinking. I was saved, so I had insurance to cover my alcohol abuse. How could I think that I had received salvation from some fiery place that no one knows if it even exists, if I hadn't even been saved from the hell I was living on earth? My version of faith exempted me from actually living out a relationship with God. In my mind, I was believing the right things, and I could say the right things, so that all made up for the hell I was living. That was a misguided faith. My faith was in me, and my beliefs. My awareness of God was nonexistent because I was too busy trying get over the guilt that my lifestyle was producing. I wanted faith to take my problems away, and make me feel good about myself, even though the contrary was happening. My faith was in the idea that since I believed in Jesus, I could go to heaven, be saved from hell, and just pass on through this horrible life because I had a better one waiting for me. What I did on earth didn't really matter, because what really mattered was the stuff that came after life - which happened to also be the stuff that no one knows anything about since the requirement for knowing anything about it is death!
Science and faith are supposed to co-exist. But, due to the desire of man to be God, and not be like God, the two are often polarized. They become the enemies of each other. Science sharpens faith, and faith sharpens science. They both point to the divine and creative nature of God. If your faith is being shattered by scientific discovery, then chances are you haven't delved into the idea that maybe God uses processes and order in the way he creates. If your scientific inquiry is locking faith out, then maybe you haven't considered something divine at the center of all the order.
The purpose of faith is to eventually lead us into the overwhelming passion of a faith driven towards us, from a Creator who is at work in the stillness and the chaos. Faith evolves from being about how much we have, to how much God has. We become enamored by the enormous love and compassion of a god who calls us his children and his friends. We are able to do things we'd never thought possible. We're able to let go of the things that hinder us, that keep us from experiencing freedom. God becomes real to us, as each day becomes an adventure, and what used to be impossible seems possible now.