I have been reading through the Bible again and will finish up in the next couple of weeks - something I've done numerous times over the last 25 years. Since outgrowing the days of flannel boards and children's Bible stories, I have struggled with the Old Testament. There are large portions that are beautiful and give me immense comfort every time I read them. There are portions that bring to my knees in worship or conviction or awe. Yet I have struggled. I'm unable to reconcile the God that tells Joshua to wipe out whole people groups (including their women, their children, their animals) with the God we see in Jesus. I struggle with the horrific things done to women - and God seems to be silent about it. I struggle with things like the difference in the punishments if the crime was against a man or a woman or a slave. I struggle with the vengeance of God in the prophets, followed quickly by His overwhelming compassion once His wrath has been emptied and then unleashing His wrath on the countries He "used" to inflict his punishment on His people. I cannot reconcile it with turn the other cheek, walk the second mile, love your neighbor, love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, let he who is without sin cast the first stone of the New Testament. I just can't.
I've had questions for as long as I can remember, but never felt the least amount of freedom to ask them. I don't know if that was the church environment I was in, or my own personal insecurities, but whatever the reason, I only have one memory of asking and then it was only one question. As a fully grown adult, reading all the way through the Bible for the first time, I finally found the courage to ask my pastor about my struggles with what I consider the genocide of the Old Testament. His answer was polished and practiced and thoroughly studied. With full confidence, he explained it away as primarily symbolic of our sin - we must deal seriously with our sin - wipe it all out, leave no room for it. If we leave it just the tiniest outlet, it will consume our life and draw us away from God. Period. That was the end of our "discussion" and I left quietly, still with all my same struggles. I did not tell him that I thought that was a ridiculous answer, contradicting what he taught every Sunday. This same church also taught me to take the Bible very literally, to trust it's historicity implicitly. If I do that, then this is not symbolic people I'm reading about - it's REAL people. And not just the soldiers met in battle, but their families - wives, children, livestock, family pets. I just could not buy it. I did not say anything. I did not ask any more questions. I packed it all back inside and felt "less than" for my doubts...for the next 20+ years.
I taught Sunday School, I directed Vacation Bible School, I homeschooled my children (where I taught them apologIetics and how to make the very arguments I did not completely trust), I was a pastor's wife -- yet never spoke of it again. One of my greatest regrets as a parent (and there are many) is that I did not give my children space to voice any doubts. I do not know if they had some of the same doubts I had/have. As I've watched them become adults and seen some of their own adult questions, I'm guessing they did. But to doubt, to differ, in the the environment I was in -- these were slippery slopes, sending one to quick and sure destruction. I left no space for questions or doubts - not for myself and not for my children. I towed the party line.
All these years later, I still struggle. I still doubt. I still sometimes get angry with God when I read the Old Testament. I struggle when a story in the Bible seems at odds with science or history. I do not know what to do with what seem like huge contradictions in the character of God. I cringe when I hear teachers say things about God's ways toward us that would translate into horrific, abusive parents if it were us toward our own children. I still cannot reconcile the God of the prophets with the God in Jesus.
But I do not feel "less than" anymore. I'm voicing my doubts. I'm asking my questions. I'm wrestling with God. And ya know what? God ain't scared. He doesn't love me any less for my questions. He does not need me to defend anything. I lean in heavy to the God of Jesus. For right or for wrong, I sometimes do a lot of skimming in the prophets. As I've read with less fearful eyes, I've realized afresh what a mess the people in our scriptures are. They are absolutely all over the place. Yet, there was God - right in the middle of it, revealing Himself to them, forgiving, giving grace, compassion, new chances, walking them ever closer to Himself, in Jesus. And I believe that is the same today. Right now.
I'm listening to/reading valid, thoughtful, scholarly teachers and pastors that have a little different take on things than what I grew up in. I have been incredibly surprised to find that they love Jesus! They love the scriptures! I don't always agree with them either. They still often leave me with questions -- much like the teachers I met in my earlier days, in different camps. The difference now? I'm not afraid of the differences. I pray I've opened doors for my kids to be more honest with me than I fear I allowed them to be in their time at home. I'm not afraid to talk about doctrinal or theological differences - sometimes big ones - like I used to be. I no longer believe a lot of those differences are deal breakers on whether you're "in" or "out". God is here - while we discuss and argue and fuss and slug it out. I'm convinced we'll all be surprised to see where the "right" answers land some day. God will not be confined to a box, no matter which camp is trying to keep Him there. It's less a slippery slope and more a wrestling match for me. I'm not letting go - and neither is He.
I've been in the prophets for the last several weeks in the Old Testament portion of my reading (probably the reason this is all stirred up again) and really struggling. And then God threw me a bone - Jonah. Gosh, I love Jonah. I love the God of Jonah. I love the drama and the humor. I love Jonah's pity parties. I love that God does not give up on him. He does not give up on Nineveh (and also? I did not know until way later than I should have that the Ninevites were not part of God's chosen people - they were Gentiles - yet there was God, offering them compassion, grace, a chance to change - right there in the middle of all this Old Testament wrath and vengeance. - so. cool.) I love all of it - and I needed the break from the gloom and doom I'd been struggling through. I needed a time out from the wrestling match, as it were.
If this is not where you're living right now, the last thing I want to do is cause you to feel unsettled. Go with God, my friend. But if you are struggling with things you've been forever told are non-negotiables, please find some measure of peace in knowing that God is there with you, in the midst of your wrestlings. He's not shocked or horrified. He's not laying awake at night fretting. He is Emmanuel - God with us.
I'm glad God is here for me in this space. I'm glad I'm not so afraid anymore. I'm glad I've met a God big enough to take me on with my doubts and questions and even some anger now and again. I doubt I'll ever have all the answers I want, but He and I will get through this. I'm sure of that now.
