“God’s wisdom is something mysterious that goes deep into the interior of his purposes. You don’t find it lying around on the surface. It’s not the latest message, but more like the oldest—what God determined as the way to bring out his best in us, long before we ever arrived on the scene. The experts of our day haven’t a clue about what this eternal plan is.” 1 Cor. 2:7-8 MSG

Four years ago I called my brother up randomly on a Sunday afternoon.  “We should start writing stuff.”  Gratefully, he stayed on the phone long enough for me to process through many words and ideas that were half-formed at best… “we should write about science.  You know, how entropy works.  Isn’t that kind of like how God created the universe?”  He explained in more detail the scientific processes of entropy in a closed system and listened as I processed aloud. He’s so kind.  And, he was intrigued.  (And upon reading this, he’ll ask me, “How do you know I was intrigued?” But trust me.) Following this conversation, and several more, we started writing a book that we titled “Doxological Creation”.  (Don’t go looking for it on Amazon, we never finished it…)  But we wrote furiously, wanting to communicate the beauty of God’s creation and how Creation reveals to us the goodness of God.  

When the pandemic hit, we suddenly both found ourselves without churches, and with plenty of time on our hands…so we started blogging.  If you followed along with us, you noticed that we were passionate about the importance of recognizing that Beauty, Mystery, Science, and Faith are all interconnected and important to us as Christians.  We also felt really frustrated with Church, with Christianity (at least, with the version we see and experience here in the U.S.) and unsure of how to keep going.  So, we wrote.  And we met together a lot.  

As it turns out, we were both working through some deconstruction, some skepticism, some deep hurt and disappointment with the church and its people.  That was healing for us—both the writing, and wrestling together. Again, if you’ve been reading this blog, thank you. You have been part of our healing journey.

Three and a half years after starting our blog, we want to keep sharing our stories with you.  Maybe you’ll find yourself in our story, or maybe you’ll be able to offer some encouragement and insight for us.  

Over the past five years, I have often referred to myself as a skeptic, but I don’t know that I would have always described myself in that way.  Recently, I read one of Ted Loder’s prayers from his book, Guerillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle and I felt something click into place.  Something that I wouldn’t have been able to pray two years ago, or even two months ago.  But this month, when the time was right, I read, “Make of me something…skeptical enough to doubt the sufficiency of anything but you…”*

And it hit me:  there is a readying that happens during our seasons of deconstruction.  There is work that is done, not by ourselves, but by God’s Spirit.  There is a healing that happens, imperceptibly for sure, slowly no doubt, but as sure as anything I know to be true.  Deconstruction, doubt, disappointment and hurt don’t have to be the end.  

Skepticism has been a necessary safeguard as I’ve been healing. Skepticism has been a healthy reaction to some of the garbage** in our culture (and yes, even Christian culture) of today. Skepticism has been a necessary placeholder over the last few years. Last spring I wrote about the stages of spiritual development: Skepticism is a healthy stage.  But hopefully it isn’t the final stage.

Healing happens in community.  It happens slowly.  It requires courage, honesty, and a surrendering to God.  It happens as we walk alongside others, bearing each other’s burdens, loaning and borrowing the faith and the hope that healing is possible, and being surprised occasionally that the Spirit is at work.  

This is what Tyler and I have referred to as “reconstruction”: The building of something that was once torn apart.

An awareness of beauty has been one of the things that has slowly eroded away at skepticism. Long walks outside have always been important to me. And while I haven’t always known why I’ve needed them, I can see how immersing myself in a beauty and world beyond myself has been so important. As I walk and hold onto seeds, watch the wind sway branches and swirl leaves, notice the cloud formations and the sun set and the bark patterns in trees, I’m reminded that there is a Wisdom that is deeply embedded in creation…and this “putting myself in the path of oncoming beauty” (as Curt Thompson says) has been truly healing.

In our post-Enlightenment world, it is harder than ever to allow ourselves to be swept up in something that doesn’t make logical sense. Our minds are trained to know, to understand, to Google anything we can’t quite wrap our minds around.  But the reality is:  our reality isn’t Ultimate Reality.  The reality we see, we hold, we contain within our work weeks and planners and iPhones isn’t even close to Ultimate Reality. And that doesn’t make sense, nor can we explain it or prove it with science. To be honest, it’s not even prove-able with the Bible.

The process of ‘re-construction’, like deconstruction—isn’t something that we determine, plan out, and set our minds to do. For me, it truly has been a slow process of healing in community. It hasn’t been quick, and as far as I can tell, there are not three easy steps. It often looks like being more honest than I feel willing to be, and allowing myself to sit in spaces that feel hard and chaotic. But there have been moments of sweet surprise, too: Unbeknownst to me, and without my initiating it, God has been present and at work.

There is a place for skepticism. Sometimes, it’s the only way we can protect our fragile selves. And, like Ted Loder, I pray that I would grow to the point where I am even skeptical of my skepticism, being made keenly aware of the sufficiency and mystery of the God whose Wisdom is embedded in the teeniest molecule of this good creation. That’s my prayer for you, too…when the time is right.

*Ted Loder, “It Would Be Easier to Pray if I Were Clear”, Guerillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle

**There are much stronger words I’d like to use here. (Tyler suggests skubalon, the Greek word that Paul uses in Philippians 3:8 that is often translated as rubbish, or garbage, but has more of the force of sh*t.)