When I think of faith and doubt, several stories from scripture come to mind. One of those stories is when Jesus walks on the water. Sometime before sunrise—probably it was still dark—the disciples were out in a boat, trying to row to shore; but they were having no luck, because the wind was strong, and they were being battered by waves.
Exhausted and frightened, they saw what they thought was a ghost walking toward them on the water, but really, it was Jesus, who said to them, “Don’t be afraid; it’s me.”
Then Peter said, “If it really is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus issued the command, and Peter stepped out of the boat and started walking on the water toward Jesus.
But then Peter noticed the wind and the waves. He became frightened. He thought to himself, “This is impossible! I can’t be doing this!” And down he went.
Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught Peter; and he said to Peter, “You of little faith; why did you doubt?”
Now there are some people who will tell you that not all stories in scripture are meant to be taken literally—and I’m one of them. But I believe this story. I believe that faith can indeed allow one to walk on water. I believe—and yet, at the same time, I do still have my doubts. Which is why every time I have ever set my foot upon water, I’ve gotten wet.
I’ve read that some quantum physicists have discovered that thoughts and beliefs can have a measurable impact on the physical world; that, at the subatomic level, there is no reason why we cannot walk on water. The only thing that keeps us from doing so is our own disbelief.
But as I say, even though I believe, I still have my doubts. And that, I suppose, is the problem.
Now, I am a pastor, so I could easily pretend that I don’t have my doubts. A lot of pastors do, I think. They claim that they have absolutely no doubts when it comes to God. And yet, I have never once seen one of them walk across water.
Denying one’s doubts can also make it harder for some folks to believe. Alaina Kleinbeck is a young adult who does ministry in the Saint Louis area. She also writes a blog that she calls “Passionately Pensive.”
A few weeks ago, she wrote about the pressure she felt to deny the questions that she had. “If I were to ask questions about science and faith,” she wrote, “I am afraid of being labeled, of being ‘blacklisted,’ of being ridiculed. As a servant of the church, I shouldn’t be afraid of asking honest questions. I have honest questions about science and faith, questions that my instructors in university sidestepped or only hinted towards.” She then adds, “I worry that the inability to properly and safely ask the questions about faith, scripture, [and] life will keep us from engaging spiritually with one another” [from kleinbeck.blogspot.com, April 9, 2009].
I have been fortunate enough to find, in the church, a place where questions are welcome, a place where honest questions can be openly shared. I’ve even found that I can share such questions from the pulpit.
I remember one sermon I preached early in my career that had more questions in it than answers. At the time, I wasn’t sure how that sermon would be received. Would my congregation appreciate the open sharing of questions and doubts? Or would they instead wonder what this “disbeliever” was doing in the pulpit?
Well, after the worship service, one older woman came up to me and said, “You know, those questions you have—I’ve had those same questions in my mind for years, but I’ve never shared them; I never knew it was okay to ask questions about faith and scripture. Thank you for letting me know it’s okay to be honest about my doubts and my questions.”
When the disciple named Thomas was told that Jesus, who was crucified, was alive—and that he had appeared to the other disciples—well, Thomas had some questions. Thomas had some doubts.
He wasn’t there when Jesus made his appearance. Scripture doesn’t say why; some think that maybe he was out getting some food, the only one of the disciples willing to leave the locked room in which they were hiding. When he returned, he was immediately told by the other disciples, “Thomas! We saw him! We have seen the Lord!”
But Thomas did not believe them. Would you? Wouldn’t you question if, perhaps, the disciples insistence that Jesus had appeared to them was nothing more than a delusion born of a desperate hope?
Because he doubted, Thomas is known, even today, as “Doubting Thomas.” And so often he is presented as an example of the type of believer that we should not emulate. “Don’t be like him,” we say. “Don’t you be a Doubting Thomas. Just believe!”
However, it seems to me that, in a day of phone scams, internet hoaxes, and urban legends, a little bit of skepticism is a good thing. Did you hear that the state of California is planning to ban all black cars in order to curb global warming, since black cars get hotter? Did you hear that new pennies being issued later this year will not have the words, “In God We Trust?” Did you know that using a Swiffer Wet Jet can cause your dog to develop liver failure? Did you know that Oprah Winfrey is just waiting to give you one million dollars?
If you’ve ever received an email with a story like this and you believed it, then you need to be a little more skeptical. You need to be a little more like Thomas.
After all, Thomas was not some sort of weak-faith, second-class disciple. Back when Jesus announced his intention to go to Jerusalem, and all the other disciples complained that Jerusalem was too dangerous, that there were people there who had it in for Jesus, who wanted to stone him to death, it was Thomas who said, “If Jesus is going to Jerusalem, then let us go with him. If Jesus is going to die, then let us die with him.” These words of Thomas demonstrate his incredible faith and loyalty, and they motivated the other disciples to stop whining and to stick with Jesus.
Eventually, Jesus did appear to Thomas, and Thomas believed. Boy did he believe! Thomas took hold of Jesus, touched his wounds, and cried out, “My Lord!”
And Jesus said to Thomas, “You believe because you have seen. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Well, we weren’t there, we didn’t see, and I, for one, sometimes have a hard time believing. I have a hard time believing Christians who have an easy answer for everything, who proclaim how simple being a Christian really is. It doesn’t really seem all that simple to me.
But I find it easier to believe Thomas. Because, like me, Thomas found it hard to believe. Like me, Thomas wanted more than a faith of smoke and mirrors. Like me, Thomas wanted to use his God-given reason, his God-given intelligence, to try and understand his faith. Like me, Thomas was skeptical of so many things, and yet in the end he believed, and that makes it easier for me to believe as well.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that being honest with yourself, and allowing those deep questions to be voiced, can lead to an even stronger faith and a deeper belief in God. And it is that stronger faith which, I believe, can move mountains or walk on water.
Our faith is not a blind faith. Blind faith is what leads a person to believe every email and internet hoax that comes their way. Our faith is guided by scripture. It is guided by witnesses—like Thomas—who have told of what they have seen and heard It is guided by our own questions, and our ongoing search for answers.
Our faith is not a weak faith. Weak faith is what leads a person to insist that the earth is flat. Weak faith does not allow for questions to be asked, because such questions could easily topple such a faith. Our faith allows questions of science to interplay with questions of religion, leading to a deeper understanding of God.
Our faith is not a dead faith. It is a living faith which grows throughout our lives, and indeed, is enriched from generation to generation. The questions asked in one century give way to the answers that are revealed in the next—and the new questions that appear. Such a faith is appropriate to the living God we worship.
Do I believe? Yes, I believe. But I don’t believe in spite of my doubts and questions. I believe, in part, because of those doubts and questions. I believe because I worship a God who gives me the freedom to travel a journey of faith. I believe because I am part of a community of faith that explores the questions as well as the answers.
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