Some helpful critiques of Friday's post (“Is doubt an STD?”)

I'm travelling today, but hoping to get a few superlatives up later this afternoon. In the meantime...

I got a little bit of pushback on my post on Friday about Derek Rishmawy’s article “Who are you sleeping with?” and when that happens, I try to listen up and take your input to heart. (Okay, so first I get super-defensive; then I listen up and take your input to heart.) 

Perhaps because I wrestle with doubts and questions of my own, I still take issue with the article’s generalizations about young adults, particularly the comment that “it’s a pretty easy bet that when you have a kid coming home with questions about evolution or philosophy, or some such issue, the prior issue is a troubled conscience.”   And I maintain that the tactic of responding to such questions with, “Who are you sleeping with?” is a bad one, for a lot of reasons. The point of the post was to address the common assumption that doubt is typically a result of sin or a guilty conscience and that we should treat people with thoughtful questions about their faith with suspicion.  That's wrong, and it should be addressed. 

But I definitely don’t want to misrepresent Tim Keller’s remarks, overstate our differences, or gloss over the fact that, often, our experiences with doubt are indeed influenced by relationships, sin, or other personal factors. Several of you offered some helpful insights in the comment section in this regard, so I thought I’d share some of the critiques/thoughts I found most helpful, just to give us more to think about and to acknowledge that I don’t have this thing figured out. I want y’all to know I’m listening, even when we don't totally agree! 

The first comment comes from Derek himself, who spent a lot of time engaging with us in the comment section, for which I am grateful. He wrote: 

"Rachel was kind enough to tweak a few things but I thought I'd post the same clarifying points that I did at the article here:

1. I did not mean to imply that any and all doubts about God, philosophy, evolution, etc. are REALLY just about sex. What I was, apparently clumsily, trying to point out is that the heart is a complicated thing that will often construct rationalizations to protect itself. That said, sometimes doubts are really just doubts and having been a philosophy major at a secular college who had questions and wasn’t having sex, I get that. When my kids come to me about this stuff, I just talk to them about their questions taking them in good faith. If it comes up that there are other issues in play, well, then that’s a thing. I probably should have made this clearer. I never would want to discourage real, honest questions and wrestling. In retrospect, “It’s a pretty easy bet” was probably a poor choice of words and definitely should not be attributed to Dr. Keller.

2. Nowhere did I or Tim Keller call evolution into question as a scientific theory of biological diversity and origins. It’s just a very common issue that raises questions with college kids. It was an observational/descriptive point, not one about what should or shouldn’t be considered core doctrine. If somebody comes out with a blog post on this saying, “Tim Keller and Some Guy At Patheos say that Evolutionists are Fornicators”–just saying, I you’re misreading it. Which could easily be my fault as a writer too. In fact, Dr. Keller himself affirms some sort of theistic evolution and has gotten a lot of crap for it himself so I'm sure he's not dismissive of people who do as well.

3. As for the “tactic” I did note that Keller said it was almost too cruel to use. I myself never have. I don’t like “gotcha” moments. The point was illustrative. Indeed, I think I might have used the word, “illustrated.” Realize that the man wrote an entire book called " The Reason for God" in which he addresses most of the main, intellectual questions those same people has on their own terms, gently, graciously and with respect and all over the place talks about hearing people on their own terms. He didn't advocate that tactic--it really was an illustration. He never suggested that pastors actually use it or that we should go in and constantly check kids who had questions and demand to know their sexual habits. I know that's not my approach when I first have a kid coming to me with issues.

4. Any infelicities remaining probably should be attributed to my faulty memory, poor listening comprehension, or weakness as a writer and not Dr. Keller."

Ben shared some insights as a college minister: 

“I lead a college ministry and I want to affirm a few things: Doubts and sexuality are on the table for discussion. They are both too important to ignore. Sometimes they are related. Sometimes they aren't. But you don't know until you start talking and asking I ask my students about their relationships (my assumption is that people are sleeping together) because no one else will and our sexuality has a huge impact on how we live and interact with each other and God. Anecdotally: the times in my life where I experienced the greatest doubt/most considered throwing in the towel were the times I was experiencing the most sexual un-health and loneliness. I know that isn't true for everyone, but if that pastor had asked me that question, I would have said, "No one, but I want to."”

Micah reminded us that Tim Keller doesn’t usually talk about doubt in exclusively negative terms, so we should keep that in mind when weighing these most recent comments: 

Tim Keller's own words on doubt: ‘A faith without some doubts is like a human body without any antibodies in it. People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic. A person's faith can collapse almost overnight if she has failed over the years to listen to her own doubts, which should only be discarded after long reflection. Believers should acknowledge and wrestle with doubts—not only their own but their friends' and neighbors'."

Katie made a good point:

 Rachel...I know that you noted: 'without focusing too much attention on Keller himself, I'd like to address why it's problematic,' and I appreciate that because you're right - there is something that needs to be addressed in this sort of thinking and deducing. But I feel like you went on to loop Keller back into your post several times, which effectively re-focused the issue - and this post - on his supposed-comments. I would be okay with this if we knew clearly what Keller did and did not say. It may be that Keller did indeed say those very things and did mean to imply all that is already being implied. (I went looking for a transcript or video clip last night to hear his words in context for myself, but came up dry, unfortunately). But it seems premature and not helpful to address such loaded topics based on some blogger's take on a brief Q&A exchange. I wish you had held off to see if Keller clarified or responded to Derek's post before writing this - or that you had focused your post on the faulty thinking, and not so much on presuming Keller said and meant. Just disappointed and surprised as this seems counter to how you usually approach things.

...And now the comments are exploding with lots of assumptions about Keller, which makes me sad as it all seems to be puting the cart before the horse and assumptively stirring the pot. Again - the topic itself is valid and necessary to address. I just wish Keller wasn't being dragged into it by so many based off of so little. Any further clarity would be welcome.

From Suzannah: 

Keller's wording is extraordinarily careless, but this was an on-the-spot Q&A as recounted by someone else, and I'd be interested to hear his point firsthand. Of course doubt is complex, even necessary, and *not* inherently tied to personal sin, but, I think his point stands: it's easy when I stray from faithfulness to begin to justify my own selfishness and attribute the distance I feel to anything but me. That doesn't mean that all dark nights or doubts are rooted in sin--not at all!--but I think there is a distinction to be made between honest wrestling and my own lazy excuses.”

From Josh (who always has something great to say!):

Cognitive dissonance -- that psychological term that refers to the way our brains respond when our beliefs and actions don't line up -- is also a very real thing. Our brains really don't like it when actions and beliefs don't line up, and more often than not, we change our beliefs to match our actions rather than the other way around. So it's a very real possibility that someone going off to college does some stuff that they were raised to believe was wrong/sinful/evil, and it makes them call into question those beliefs. "Is it really wrong? If it's not really wrong, then what else that I believe isn't real either?"

But even though these doubts might be due to actions, we should never assume that this is necessarily the case. That is hurtful to relationships and dismissive to the very real doubts. So yeah, asking "Who have you been sleeping with?" is just the wrong response. Wrong in every way I can think of -- it's dismissive, combative, shame-inducing, and patronizing.

The right response? "Remember that it doesn't matter if you believe in a young earth or an old earth; it doesn't matter if you question how an omnipotent, loving God could exist in the face of the existence of evil; or what you might have done last weekend -- God's grace is big enough to handle all the doubt you can throw at it." And then listen to the doubts and be with the person in their struggle.

And Catherine shared a little of her own questions/struggles: 

I agree w/ everything you’ve written in this post, but I did read that Q & A from a different perspective than you. As a young adult who attended large, secular universities and moved to NYC right after graduation, I have to say that what separated me most from my peers as a Christian were my personal choices regarding sexuality. Secular young adults care about the poor, community, philosophy and poetry as much as young Christians. Where they differ is on sexual choices, and frankly, the only solid argument the church makes about abstinence (if you are a confident, self-respecting and respectful adult) is that God asks it of us (which is no small thing but sometimes very hard to hang your hat on when you’re 23 and dating a hot poet).

Doubt, of course, can be intellectual and often is, but doubt can also be relational, which for someone like myself NOT rooted in the excesses of fundamentalism, was far more powerful.  I love that you’re doing this series on sexuality and the church, because it’s such a tough issue for young Christians. From homosexuality to abstinence for a generation not marrying until their 30s, what the Bible says about sexuality doesn’t seem to completely add up in our postmodern age. What should Christian purity look like today? I wrestle with this far more than evolution, which I’ve believed in as long as I’ve believed in God.

Of course many of you shared some fantastic points in agreement with my analysis. You can read them all here.

Just wanted to let you all know that I listen, even when we disagree Thank you so much for the community you bring to this space.  It’s such a joy to be a part of it. 

Is doubt an STD?

For most people, young adulthood is a time of stretching, evolving, questioning, and growing. It’s a time when you start thinking for yourself, making decisions on your own, scrutinizing your past, and dreaming about your future. 

And so it was for me. 

I was in my early twenties when I first encountered a fossil record that didn’t match what I’d been taught in Sunday school about the “myth” of evolutionary theory. 

I was a junior in college when the execution of a Muslim woman, broadcasted on TV, challenged everything I believed about heaven, hell, and religious pluralism. 

I was 21 or 22 when I began questioning what I’d been taught about what constituted  “biblical” politics,  “biblical” marriage, and  “biblical” womanhood, and wondering if it was wise, or even possible, to reduce the Bible into an adjective. 

I was young and newly married when I first started whispering these questions out loud—Did Anne Frank really go to hell? How does a young earth explain how we can see the light of distant stars? Did God really ask Joshua to commit genocide? Is it possible to follow Jesus with my intellectual and emotional integrity intact? How can we know any of this is true? 

These questions emerged from the deepest, truest parts of my being, after many sleepless nights, long talks with Dan, tears of frustration, intense study and prayer, and seemingly endless periods of silence.  It was my first encounter with doubt, and it was scary. 

The most painful part of the process, though, was when friends and well-meaning mentors dismissed my questions as silly, or, even worse, questioned whether my doubt was nothing more than an attempt to justify some sort of secret sin in my life, usually pride. If they could just uncover my moral failing, they reasoned, all these pesky questions about science and theology and religion would disappear. 

Those responses only alienated me further from the Church, where I began to feel less and less comfortable sharing my thoughts and questions with my faith community. 

This is why I found Tim Keller’s response to a question posed to him at the Gospel Coalition’s National Conference this week both familiar and disheartening. 

In responding to a question about obstacles to revival, Keller said that one of the biggest threats to spiritual renewal, particularly among young adults is sexual activity. He connects sexual activity to increasing doubts among young adults, and suggests that when twenty-somethings come home from college with scientific or philosophical questions related to their faith, those questions are just a guise for what’s really at work—they’re having sex. 

Derek Rishmawy summarized Keller’s response in a post entitled “Who are you sleeping with?” : 

"Keller illustrated the point by talking about a tactic, one that he admittedly said was almost too cruel to use, that an old college pastor associate of his used when catching up with college students who were home from school. He’d ask them to grab coffee with him to catch up on life. When he’d come to the state of their spiritual lives, they’d often hem and haw, talking about the difficulties and doubts now that they’d taken a little philosophy, or maybe a science class or two, and how it all started to shake the foundations. At that point, he’d look at them and ask one question, “So who have you been sleeping with?” Shocked, their faces would inevitably fall and say something along the lines of, “How did you know?” or a real conversation would ensue.  Keller pointed out that it’s a pretty easy bet that when you have a kid coming home with questions about evolution or philosophy, or some such issue, the prior issue is a troubled conscience. Honestly, as a Millennial and college director myself, I’ve seen it with a number of my friends and students—the Bible unsurprisingly starts to become a lot more “doubtful” for some of them once they’d had sex."

I was surprised to see such a dismissive statement from Keller, who has devoted so much of his life to carefully addressing the questions of skeptics with nuance and respect, and who has a generally open attitude toward doubt. (I am hoping that perhaps Rishmawy just didn’t summarize Keller exactly right; he has issued a few helpful clarifying points since the post originally ran.) But this response to doubt is common enough to address here generally, for the sake of those of you who doubt and those who are in a position to mentor those who doubt, so without focusing too much attention on Keller himself, I'd like to address why it's problematic. 

First, the suggestion that the primary reason young people might have questions about, say, evolution and biblical interpretation is because they have a “guilty conscience” is dismissive and hurtful. It unfairly discounts the very real, and often very legitimate questions of searching young adults and treats their doubts as unworthy of addressing directly. 

Believe me. It does not help your cause when a biology student comes into your office to ask how young earth creationism can possibly explain the fossil record and your response to her is ,“Who are you sleeping with?” 

Keller seems to assume that thoughtful questioning among young people are typically the result of sexual activity and their desire to justify it. This was not true for me, and it is not true for many of the young adults who leave college with questions about science, philosophy, politics, and religious pluralism that challenge the fundamentalism with which they were raised. I encountered doubt long before I got married and had sex, (not to mention long after), and I think it’s silly that I would have to share that information with Keller, or anyone else for that matter, in an effort to prove the sincerity of my questions.  

Furthermore, learning that a college student is sexually active does not somehow discredit his or her faith experience.  While sexuality is indeed an important element of personhood, it is not he be-all and end-all of our existence, and as we’ve discussed in the past, connecting a person’s worth to his or her virginity is a serious problem within evangelicalism. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that many of those who do in fact leave the Church over issues related to sexuality do so because they’ve been told over and over again that their value as a Christian, and as a human being, is wrapped up in their virginity, so they no longer feel welcomed or worthy. 

As I’ve written before, the doubts I wrestled with most profoundly as a young adult were doubts related to salvation and religious pluralism. Those doubts often took he form of a single question in my mind: “Did Anne Frank go to hell?”

I cannot think of a more trite, inappropriate response to that question than, “Tell me who you’re sleeping with.”

Second, Keller is a smart guy and he should know that correlation does not mean causation. As I mentioned above, It is often during young adulthood that people begin to think for themselves and ask tough questions about their faith. It is also during young adulthood that people begin to form serious romantic relationships and think about sex. So if Keller sees a correlation, it may have more to do with this particular stage of development than anything else. 

I have already heard from pastors and campus ministers who say they too have observed that twenty-somethings seem to be struggling with questions related to both faith and sexuality, and I’m not surprised. While questions, experiences, and struggles related to sex can most certainly generate questions about faith...(we are holistic, integrated creatures after all)....we have to be careful of generalizing or oversimplifying here.  It may be true that young adults are both asking questions about science & faith and having sex, but that does not mean that they are asking questions about science & faith because they are having sex. 

Pastors and mentors will of course feel compelled to offer guidance and prayer as young adults navigate the tricky terrain of sexuality, but they should not be deceived into thinking that the all the questions about faith, science, technology, religious pluralism, politics, justice, equality, and ethics emerging from the Millennial generation are related to sex and can be solved by abstaining from it. This is shallow, reductive thinking, and again points to a somewhat irrational preoccupation among evangelicals with sexuality as the root of all that is evil or good. 

I am often asked to speak at churches and conferences on the topic of why young adults are leaving the church.  I usually begin by sharing a little of my own story, and then I point to research conducted by the Barna Group in which young adults, ages 18-29 were asked the same question. As David Kinnaman explains in his enlightening book, You Lost Me, one of the top six responses among young adults is that they left the church because they didn’t feel like their pastors, mentors, and friends took their questions about faith seriously. 

“Young Christians (and former Christians too) say the church is not a place that allows them to express doubts,” writes Kinnaman. “They do not feel safe admitting that faith doesn’t always make sense. In addition, many feel that the church’s response to doubt is trivial and fact-focused, as if people can be talked out of doubting.” 

As I’ve said on multiple occasions, most young adults I know aren’t looking for a religion that answers all of their questions, but rather a community of faith in which they feel safe to asking them.  A good place to start in creating such a community is to treat young adults like the complex human beings they are, and to take their questions about faith seriously.

(Credit to Chris Cox who gave me the idea for the title of the post. In response to the article he tweeted, “Doubt as a STD seems like a desperate ploy.”  I agree. )

See also:
What happened when I tried to love God with my mind
The Scandal of the Evangelical Heart

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Have your doubts and questions ever been assumed by others to stem from a "guilty conscience"? How did you respond? 

I'd also love to hear from ministers who work with college students and young adults. Have you noticed the correlation that Keller observes? Is he on to something?

Several of you have noted that this doesn't sound like typical Keller. I totally agree. He's usually a lot more nuanced about things...so please don't interpret this as a critique of him as a theologian or pastor, just a discussion around this particular idea that doubt is the result of a guilty conscience. 

Holy Week for Doubters

It will bother you off and on, like a rock in your shoe, 

Or it will startle you, like the first crash of thunder in a summer storm, 

Or it will lodge itself beneath your skin like a splinter, 

Or it will show up again—the uninvited guest whose heavy footsteps you’d recognize anywhere, appearing at your front door with a suitcase in hand at the worst. possible. time. 

Or it will pull you farther out to sea like rip tide, 

Or hold your head under as you drown— 

Triggered by an image, a question, something the pastor said, something that doesn’t add up, the unlikelihood of it all, the too-good-to-be-trueness of it, the way the lady in the thick perfume behind you sings “Up from the grave he arose!” with more confidence in the single line of a song than you’ve managed to muster in the past two years. 

And you’ll be sitting there in the dress you pulled out from the back of your closet, swallowing down the bread and wine, not believing a word of it. 

Not. A. Word. 

So you’ll fumble through those back pocket prayers—“help me in my unbelief!”—while everyone around you moves on to verse two, verse three, verse four without you. 

You will feel their eyes on you, and you will recognize the concern behind their cheery greetings: “We haven’t seen you here in a while! So good to have you back.” 

And you will know they are thinking exactly what you used to think about Easter Sunday Christians: 

Nominal. 

Lukewarm. 

Indifferent. 

But you won’t know how to explain that there is nothing nominal or lukewarm or indifferent about standing in this hurricane of questions every day and staring each one down until you’ve mustered all the bravery and fortitude and trust it takes to whisper just one of them out loud on the car ride home: 

“What if we made this up because we’re afraid of death?” 

And you won’t know how to explain why, in that moment when the whisper rose out of your mouth like Jesus from the grave, you felt more alive and awake and resurrected than you have in ages because at least it was out, at least it was said, at least it wasn’t buried in your chest anymore, clawing for freedom. 

And, if you’re lucky, someone in the car will recognize the bravery of the act. If you’re lucky, there will be a moment of holy silence before someone wonders out loud if such a question might put a damper on Easter brunch. 

But if you’re not—if the question gets answered too quickly or if the silence goes on too long—please know you are not alone. 

There are other people signing words to hymns they’re not sure they believe today, other people digging out dresses from the backs of their closets today, other people ruining Easter brunch today, other people just showing up today. 

And sometimes, just showing up -  burial spices in hand -  is all it takes to witness a miracle. 

Our little systems...

I’m in sunny California this week speaking to the very bright students at Hope International University. I really loved this group, and hope to return again someday. Several students approached me after my chapel talk to ask for copies of some of the quotes I used. I figured everyone could benefit from these inspiring words, so here they are: 

“Our little systems have their day:They have their day and cease to be;They are but broken lights of thee And thou, O Lord, art more than they.”- Tennyson

“If you think you understand, it isn’t God.” – Augustine

“We are often taught that it is unfaithful to question traditional religious beliefs, but I believe that we must question them continually—not God, not Christ, who are the center of our lives as believers and creators—but what human beings say about God and about Christ; otherwise, like those of the church establishment of Galileo’s day, we truly become God’s frozen people...Galileo’s discoveries did nothing whatsoever to change the nature of God; they threatened only man’s rigid ideas of the nature of God. We must constantly be open to new revelation, which is another way of hearing God, with loving obedience.“Artists keep us from frozenness, from smugness, from thinking that the truth is in us, rather than in God, in Christ our Lord. They help us to know that we are often closer to God in our doubts than in our certainties, that it is all right to be like the small child who constantly asks, “Why? Why?”  - Madeleine L’Engle 

“Belief is always a risk, a gamble—an adventure if you will. The line between faith and doubt is the point of action. You don’t need certainty to obey, just a willingness to risk being wrong.” - David Henderson 

“If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that serious doubt—the kind that leads to despair—begins not when we start asking God questions but when, out of fear, we stop. In our darkest hours of confusion and in our most glorious moments of clarity, we remain but curious and dependent little children, tugging frantically at God’s outstretched hands and pleading with every question and every prayer and every tantrum we can muster, “We want to have a conversation with you!”  God must really love us, because he always answers with such long stories.” -Evolving in Monkey Town 

So what are some of your favorite quotes about faith and doubt?

Journeys of a Religious Misfit, Part 1: Wayside Shrines

“When I’m asked about the situation—
Of where it is I’ve been and where I’m bound—
I’ve got no home....but I’ve got a destination.”
Thad Cockrell, “A Country of My Own”

My inner voice is a royal pain in the ass. 

It’s an obstreperous child impatient with questions and eager for attention. It shouts to me from the future (the next prayer, the next hour, the next blog post, the next book), thereby commanding my present like a spoiled little dictator with a crooked crown. 

I spent a lot of time with my inner voice during my “week of silence,” and believe it or not, I’m glad. For I think I may finally know it well enough to hear a difference between its incessant chatter and the quiet voice of Something else, Something bigger, trying to break through.

Monks in Alabama

The week began at St. Bernard Abbey in Cullman, Alabama.  It was strange driving down Highway 278, past dozens of Baptist churches and farm supply stores to find an austere Benedictine monastery sitting on 180 acres of wooded land.

I stayed in a simple, comfortable room complete with a giant crucifix I could see from just about every spot.  It made me nervous to glance in the bathroom mirror and see Jesus watching me brush my teeth.  

I joined the monks for prayer four times a day—Martins & Lauds (6 a.m.), Sext (11:55 a.m.), Vespers (5:30 p.m.), and Compline (7 p.m.).  I accidentally laughed out loud when I thought about how I was “sexting with the monks.”  We ate breakfast in silence (which I think is a good enough idea to be turned into law), chatted at lunch, and then ate dinner in silence as well. In between prayers and meals, I wandered the grounds, read by the lake, meditated in my room, worked a little on the book, and prayed and lit candles in the beautiful sanctuary.  It was an introvert’s Disneyland, and a precious time of silence in which I rested and reflected. 

Yet no matter how much time I spent in contemplation and prayer, my inner voice kept interrupting,  throwing a hissy fit every time things got a little too Catholic for this Protestant’s sensitive constitution: 

“Holy water wards off evil? Sounds a little superstitious if you ask me.” 

“We’re chanting in monotone voices through a Psalm about praising God with a timbrel and dance, and I appear to be the only one who senses the irony.”  

“AHHHH!!! They’re praying to Mary! This is weird! Get me out of here!”

“Don’t they know there is absolutely no New Testament precedent for using Mary or the saints as mediators between man and God.  1 Timothy 2:5, people! 1 Timothy 2:5!”

“Wait. Do they think I’m going to purgatory?” 

During mass one afternoon I watched as a young family with three little girls went to the priest to receive the Eucharist. I was sitting it out in deference to the church’s position that only confirmed Catholics receive communion, diligently praying for the unity of the Church as I was instructed, when all of a sudden I started to cry. 

“That beautiful family has a home for their faith,” my inner voice said. “You don’t have a home for yours. You don’t fit in anywhere. You never will” 

My inner voice was right. Sure I tell the news media I’m an evangelical, but the truth is, I don’t know what I am. I’m a religious misfit. I don’t have a home. 

There’s a lot I love about the Catholic tradition—the connection to history, the liturgy and ritual, the time for contemplation, the sense that the “great cloud of witnesses” that surrounds us is very much alive and active and a part of our lives. But I’m not Catholic. I don't quite fit.

At lunch I confessed to one of the monks, Brother Brenden,  “I know it doesn’t work this way, but I wish I could take the pieces I love from each tradition—Catholic, Orthodox, Mennonite, Methodist, Evangelical, Anglican—and cobble them together into a home church.” He smiled sympathetically, but in a way that said, “Yeah,it doesn’t work that way.”  

The passage I had chosen for my lectio divina that night came from Psalm 39, where David says to God, “I dwell with you as a foreigner, a stranger, as all my ancestors were.” 

Wayside Shrines

After two nights, it was time to leave St. Bernard’s.  

At the last minute, on my way out, I decided to check out the monastery’s famous Ave Maria Grotto. Built by Brother Joseph Zoetl over a period of nearly seventy years, the grotto consists of a landscaped hillside of 125 stone and cement miniatures, ranging from a sprawling little Holy Land, to a charming Temple of the Fairies, to a Tower of Babel, to an Alamo.

Brother Joseph, who completed most of his work during the 30s, 40s, and 50s, was a master cobbler. He used glass, seashells, costume jewelry, broken plates, ceramic tiles, marbles, fishing net floats, jars, ink bottles, you name it, to embellish his creations. The result is a chichi yet charming display of sacred folk art that reminded me a lot of my own pieced-together faith.

This and that. A little here, a little there.  

At strategic intervals along the wooded path through the grotto were posts identified as “wayside shrines.” I’d never heard of wayside shrines before, so I turned to my brochure. “Typical of European and Latin American countries,” it said, “wayside shrines are located along roads and pathways, where travelers stop and offer prayers, turning heart and mind to God.” 

Where travelers stop.

 All at once I realized that, for me, St. Bernard's was a wayside shrine on my long and uncertain journey of faith. There had been many shrines before it, and there would be many shrines after it. They didn’t have to be my permanent home, but they could be safe places of rest for a time, confirmation that I was on the right path. 

No one else was at the grotto that day, so I kneeled awkwardly at one of the last wayside shrines on the path to pray.

A ceramic Jesus that Brother Joseph probably picked up from a gas station somewhere offered a goofy smile in return, as if to say, “Relax a little Rachel. Don’t be in such a hurry. You’ll get there eventually. Remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.” 

And for the first time in my week of silence, my inner voice grew totally quiet and a Psalm rushed over me: 

Surely I have composed and quieted my soul,
like a child rests against its mother. 
My soul is like a child within me. 

I wouldn’t find such peace in the silence until I happened upon my next wayside shrine—a Quaker meetinghouse in Knoxville. (Look for Part 2 on Wednesday!) 

***

Do you ever feel like a religious misfit, unable to settle into one faith tradition? Where are you in your journey, and what sort of “wayside shrines” have given you rest along the way?