On Doubt

Much of my work with students in Santa Maria gives me joy and hope. I often return home surprised by the way that a student helped expand my understanding of God and the world. Yet it is said that when you do ministry on the margins, you become marginalized, and I think this is especially true in the lonely role of campus ministry at the community college. I cannot lie; for every good moment in ministry, there may be ten or twenty frustrating, alienating, and discouraging ones.

I think immediately of Alvin,* a man actually a few years older than me, yet one of my first connections in ministry since coming to campus nearly two years ago. When I first met him he was clearly inebriated, intoxicated on a mixture of alcohol and marijuana--among the milder forms of stimulation he was prone to use. He attempted to argue with me over the moral dimensions of drug use. I immediately developed a fondness for him. Now, after three years in our InterVarsity community, many bible studies, one-on-one meetings, and lifestyle changes, I see a new person. I have been having weekly meetings with Alvin for the past eight months, and they have been some of the most enjoyable times of ministry on campus. We usually talk about the content from that week's bible study, but occasionally we'll venture into our own territory of scripture, and talk about the nature of the soul, the person of Jesus, and the salvation of Christ. Still, by few standards can we call him a believer.

Above all, Alvin seeks the truth. He uses terms like "enlightenment" and "that spiritual reality" to describe his desires. On the surface, little changes. He has a history of significant mental illness, and continues to take a heavy dosage of prescription drugs to focus his attention and moderate some of the ways that his past drug abuse has compromised his thinking. His journey is a fascinating one. Though he first met Jesus as a child in the Catholic church, he has long since abandoned any kind of religious affiliation, and was mired in the hell of heavy LSD, ecstasy, and cocaine habits even into his early time in InterVarsity. Yet Andy was inspired by some of his more terrifying trips to uncover the essential unity of the universe, and seek to understand that mystery that could be at once inviting and, when confronted with the realities of sin and death, terrifying. This terror has been the single most consistent topic of our conversation: my own emphasis on the love of God as the single determining characteristic always comes up against the ghosts of his bad trips, when his god appears as an oppressive bully, even violent.

I want to say that the community of believers on campus allowed him to shirk some of the convenient stereotypes that he, along with many other "New Atheists" have come to associate with evangelical Christianity. As he continued on in bible study and accompanied us to the fantastic conferences that InterVarsity has to offer, he came to see a very different image of God through the person of Jesus. Yet these lingering questions, his approach to truth, and the damage of the past has been enough to keep him away from the traditional experiences of altar calls, worship sessions, and personal prayer.

Speaking of prayer, I count our biggest "victory" together the fact that Andy has taken the first shaky steps of faith in actually talking to God. He utters verbal prayers regularly. Nothing verbose, perhaps one or two words petitioning for clarity and understanding where there has been none. In all that I've seen of his life, I would say that the Lord has indeed answered his prayers. But still no salvation, still no confession of allegiance to the Christ that he has been learning about for these past years. One afternoon Alvin and I simply sat outside and I challenged him to sit in silence for twenty minutes, contemplating the person of God without words (after all, I cannot use such familiar terms as "centering prayer" with him). He seemed to like it. Yet because of a lack of employment, soft school schedule, and his mental health complications, it is near impossible to get him to commit to any regular regimen of prayer. Every week I'll ask him the traditional question of spiritual directors: "How did your prayers go this week?" and every week I'm answered with the same admittance to distraction.

But he loves the Bible. There is something about the written word that allows Alvin to focus, and it even keeps him coming to church with another friend from the community every week. It seems that he can't get enough of learning more about the God of all creation, the God that wrought life out of death in Jesus, and the God who certainly spared his life from destruction. You see, Alvin is no stranger to the futility of coincidence. Almost two years ago he lapsed from his medications and went on a walk around town with a shotgun in hand, intending suicide. After he failed to put down the weapon, the police put two bullets in his leg, and he served five months in the county jail and remains in the rehabilitation system with regular parole meetings and psychiatric evaluations. Whenever I walk with him, I have to travel a bit slower to accomodate his permanent limp. All attraction to drugs, alcohol, and idle pursuit is gone. He has seen hell, and wants no part of it.

Yet where to go from here? If any part of Jesus' message sticks out to him (and I am sure to remind him) it is that we cannot follow him part time. We are full disciples, owing our whole lives, and surrendering all. Apart from that, no relationship is possible. How difficult to convince someone who desires that relationship with God, but still cannot confess to the trustworthiness of Jesus! A few months ago, Alvin decided that his desire for Jesus was real. I told him that God needed to hear that, not just me. It needs to be real enough to admit, and share. He made a much lauded entry in his journal to "accept Jesus into his heart" as he often heard our Christian community proclaim. And that was it.

Although I am convinced that genuine desire for God leads to true repentance and confession of the Lordship of Christ, I know that universal language cannot account for such unique cases as Alvin. We often talk about when he will be "ready" to take a stand for his beliefs. Doubt and skepticism are a part of every person's journey, and I would argue that they are healthy ingredients. Yet the grain of promise that God holds for people like Alvin lie in helping people overcome very ordinary insecurities. These insecurities often have to do with things completely unrelated to God or religion. In his case, he does not want to bear the shame of people finding out that he has forsaken his faith after a short time. This defeatism is rooted in things much deeper than my friendship with Alvin has led me to understand. In the meantime, I pray, and offer a supporting voice for him to depend on. This, and a healthy encouragement to "suck it up" seem to help him along. This is the fertile ground from which faith springs. And it is exhausting to till this land again and again. For I know the sower is a generous one, whose will shall unfold in the fullness of time.

This journey alongside my friend Alvin has led me to abandon most traditional molds of conversion criteria and simply trust that this will produce the best possible type of disciple in him. Full conversion will come at the appropriate time. In essence my pain at my friend's condition is mirrored by the hopeful words of Jesus to his disciples: "Truly I tell you, a time is coming and has come when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who will hear will live." Alvin's prayers are now frequently directed at the one, central desire of his heart, which must lie beyond the snares and strangleholds present in his mind: to experience God.  I know that the God that I believe in and lay my life down for is surely up to the task.





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*not his real name