Part 1 of a Series:
Surviving the Journey of A Thoughtful Faith
As I see it, a faith crisis is not a weakness or a failing. It is an awakening, a transformation into something more. When we realize this, we can embrace faith crisis as the door to a new world of wonder.
In the post-internet society, the facts of our church history, doctrine, and practice have become quite apparent. We can no longer dismiss the concerns as being “anti-Mormon” literature; for indeed, the Gospel Topics essays contain many inconvenient facts.
As well, current LDS culture and leadership practice are often the cause for faith crisis. We see policies that run completely afoul of the inclusive, loving Gospel of Jesus Christ. We observe legal and political strategies being called “revelation”. We experience the silencing of women and LGBTQIA brothers and sisters.
Whatever the reasons — and each person’s reasons are distinct — we become disaffected, troubled by doubt, and saddened by the loss of certainty.
In response, our leaders invite us to return, to come back, to “doubt our doubts”, to restore our certainties that once gave us so much comfort. But can we really come back? Should we go back to where we were?
One of the most common themes in LDS doctrine is the idea that this life is a test: “And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them.”
(Abraham 3:25)
Yet, the idea of a test implies that I have already learned what I need to learn, and the test validates that I’m worthy. And much of the LDS culture seems to focus more upon “worthiness” rather than actual learning and progression.
What if we reframe this “test” and think of it more as a “learning experience”? What if we think of God and Jesus as Parents and Brother rather than as Judges? I mean, isn’t that our doctrine?
What if we think of this life not as a final exam — a test — but rather, as a learning experience, or as the temple endowment says twice: “That we may learn through our own experience…”
What if we think of this life as part of eternal life, and that eternal life is one of eternal progression?
One of the key themes in the scriptures is the idea that we have a loving relationship with the divine and with each other. “And I will refine you as sliver is refined, and will try you as gold is tried, that you shall call on my name, and I will hear you. I will say, you are my people, and you shall say, I AM my God”.
(Zecharia 13:9, paraphrased)
“And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver: and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they may offer unto the LORD an offering in righteousness.”
(Malachi 3:3)
I have seen how metals are refined. Raw ore is extracted from the rocks, crushed and put through washing, fire, and acid, progressively becoming “more” than it was as raw ore. Each successive stage of the refinement processes means that part of what once was is left behind, in order to progress to the next stage.
The “refiners fire” is a metaphor for faith crisis. The “dark night of the soul”, experienced by all the great prophets, is one where we pass through a transformation, crushing, washing, cleansing, the fire of adversity, and the acid baths of doubt. The result isn’t better ore. We don’t go backwards and try to preserve our prior state. Indeed, the response to the refiner’s fire of faith crisis isn’t to return to our prior state, but rather, to pass through to become “more”.
Another metaphor is that of the Caterpillar becoming a Butterfly. The caterpillar’s life comes to an effective end when s/he enters the pupae, only to emerge later as a transformed being. The caterpillar cannot avoid this transformation, and a butterfly cannot revert to being a caterpillar.
Metaphors have their limits. It’s best not to over think them. The reality is that our faith crisis is part of a transformational journey — A Faith Journey — that we call “Eternal Progression”.
Jesus put it this way: “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3) To be born again, something has to die. Paul said, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” (1 Cor 13:11) How many of the things we once cherished as being literally true no longer are true? As we grow in our Faith, we come to realize that some things — childish things — no longer serve us, and we must set them aside, lovingly, but firmly.
Erik Erickson, a pioneer in the field of Identity crisis — something identical to faith crisis — noted that as we progress through life, we have as many as seven “identity crises”, where we are forced into transforming from our prior self-image to something new, be it during childhood, adolescence, adulthood, or old age. Fowler’s “Stages of Faith Development” is patterned after Erickson’s work on identity crises. We learn that each one of us is on a Faith Journey, transforming and growing in insight as we see anew, hear anew, and become reborn.
But since each person’s Faith Journey is unique, we realize our progression to new stages of faith development do not put us in the superior position above our friends and families who rely upon our prior-held certainties. They are not “less” because we are discovering the “more”. Instead, we are all unique.
Faith crisis is not a weakness, but rather, an indicator that you are ready to transform, to become more than you once were. Faith crisis is not the end of the road, but rather, an ongoing set of milestones — stages of faith development — that can, if we are willing, lead us to a deeper sense of who we are and what the divine is.
The Journey of A Thoughtful Faith often begins with Faith Crisis. It’s the door to a world of wonder.