Day Four: He Walks With His People (An Interview With Pain)

I CAN STILL remember the rain pelting down on Janine’s tiny car while we drove around the streets of Bangor in Northern Ireland. Her windshield wipers whipping back and forth so violently we could barely hear each other talk over the din. These times with Janine are special. 

(Our bond was formed when I visited the church she pastors with her husband Glen back in 2014, newly wed and experiencing my first year on the road doing ministry. I sat through the Sunday service numbly, feeling invisible and so alone I could burst into tears at any moment. She came up to me after the service, and said she felt like Jesus prompted her to ask if she could pray for me. I doubled over, put my face in my hands so she couldn’t see my tears and said “I just feel like a black hole! And nothing you or anyone else says will make me feel less like a nothing!” She just put her arms and around me and we prayed. It was then Janine became one of my people.)

But back to that night driving around and talking. I wanted Janine’s advice about how to encourage a girl I’d recently met, a girl who I strongly suspected had been sexually abused. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” I confided.

“Gabby… did you know I was sexually abused by someone who used to be a family friend for years growing up?” Janine’s eyes didn’t leave the road.

For a moment the windshield wipers were deafening, the rain felt like it was drilling holes into the roof.

“The thing people who’ve experienced the pain of sexual abuse want to know is that despite everything, they’re known, loved, and seen by God. Affirm the life in the them they forget is good, don’t approach them like a problem to be solved.”

This is why when many of you wrote in asking for me to write about how to process doubt in the midst of pain, I knew I want to ask Janine to share her story.

Gabby: So before we get started let me just say I feel so honoured that you would share your story and wisdom with me and my little Thin Places tribe. Seriously. I think you have so much wisdom from your journey that I need to hear and I’m sure others do too.

Janine: Oh my goodness Gabby what an honour it is for me to be sharing my story here. My journey in this has been long one, full of the good and the bad. My greatest hope is that it would be able to be used to encourage someone else down the path of grace and freedom!

Gabby: If I’m brutally honest, it’s hard for me to imagine ever recovering from the kind of pain and trauma you experienced, and still be a Christian! Could share a little bit about your journey towards healing?

Janine: Well there were quite a few really dark years for me. I went into my teen years as a promiscuous rebel, carrying a lot of shame. Because the abuse had started so early, I assumed I was the type of girl who sexually very loose, because that was the identity spoken over me. I was too ashamed to even consider the fact that maybe I wasn’t because that would mean confronting the issue.

But after I became a Christian, and the abuse was exposed, I knew I needed to process it. I learned very quickly that there are the right people and the wrong people to process things with. I think that goes for most things in life. Some people make bad things worse, and others help you take your rubbish and turn it into something that brings about life.

Gabby: Ahhh! There’s so much truth in that. When you talk about the wrong things with the right people they can become the right things. So good. After you became a Christian did you ever struggle with anger towards God for what happened to you?

Janine: It’s strange, because while sexual abuse is horrific when it’s happening, that isn’t what I struggled with the most. I didn't struggle with knowing God was still God back then when it was all happening, that He allowed this kind of brokenness to happen and be part of my story. It’s actually the after effects that are sometimes almost harder to deal with. When I see the impact one man’s sin not only had on my life, but on the lives of my children and even on my marriage — that’s when I get furious. That’s when I just think “God! Haven’t I suffered enough? Can’t it just all be done?” That’s when I sometimes doubt His goodness in it all.

Gabby: What does the process of wrestling with doubt look like for you during those times?

Janine: Well sometimes it looks like having a glass of wine and watching Netflix!

Gabby: YESSS.

Janine: But seriously, I think I’ve slowly learned to give myself grace for the process, because Jesus does. When I was a younger Christian experiencing doubt in God’s goodness I’d be torn up with guilt. I’d pour over my Bible, pray, talk to people until I stopped having the feelings of doubt and confusion. But the reality is I’m over ten years into this process and somedays are still a struggle, somedays I still don’t have all the answers I want from Him. The difference is I’ve come to embrace the journey. I’ve realised I don’t need to experience shame or guilt about my feelings towards God in this, and I’m allowed to feel what I’m feeling. He’s big enough to handle it.

Gabby: Do you remember a moment when you realised “Wait! There’s grace for this process! I don’t need to have everything figured out!”?

Janine: Yes! I was reading the Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning and it felt like all the lights came on. I think I always thought I was damaged goods. Like God couldn’t redeem my life, not only because of the abuse that happened to me, but because of the decisions I made with my life after the fact. Those were my horrible decisions, not anyone else’s. Surely God didn’t want me leading His church with a past like mine.

I think sometimes we think “Great, God’s forgiven my past, now I just need to go and sin no more.” But what happens with the sin leaves a long-lasting impact? Or the consequences are forever? Or when it crops back up again and again? Is He still gracious? Does he still work with people who not only have a broken past, but a broken present? Of course the answer is yes, he does. But when I realised our Jesus is God of the journey, that he wrestles, he cries, he knows our hearts and nothing surprises him, that’s when I felt freedom to just be like “God I’m really struggling to believe you’re good, but for now and we just watch Netflix and process it some other time?”

 

Gabby: This is why I love you! You're so honest. It’s crazy because no matter where I turn in this devotional series, I can’t seem to escape the connection between doubt and shame. Why do you think they’re connected?

Janine: Hhmm… About a week ago I had a woman confide in me that she was also the victim of sexual abuse. As soon as the words left her lips she was like “I wish I’d never told you that! I’m so ashamed!” Of course she has no business being ashamed of someone else’s sin. All victims of sexual abuse— that I know of anyway!— struggle with feeling like it was somehow their fault. Which is of course a lie! But one that our culture tends to perpetuate. There’s this sense that if someone’s been sexually abused or raped, that they must have done something to ask for it. The shame stems from the fact that as a society we don’t stand up for these victims enough, so they’re left with a sense of guilt. It’s a very lonely place.

Though it’s on a different scale, but I think there’s a similar pressure in Christian culture when it comes to experiencing doubt. We don’t stand up for doubters, we don’t embrace the process and walk alongside them. Because we don’t know what to say, we don’t say anything. But that’s not how Jesus treats people. He gets involved with the messiness. Like I said before, he’s the God of the journey. He loves to walk with his people, the church needs to stop being so afraid.

Gabby: So how do you be like Jesus, and practice being a friend on the journey?

Janine: I think it goes back to being one of the right people to talk to. If you’re friend is experiencing doubt in the midst of pain, the best thing to do is be willing to listen and not pass judgement. Don’t confirm what they already believe, that everyone judges them. Instead, surprise them with grace.

If you’re the one experiencing doubt, remember there’s no rush. There’s just taking it day by day with the One who already knows the most secret corners of your heart. You won’t shock him, he already loves and accepts you. It’s tempting to rush out of a season of doubt because you want straight edges and clean black and white lines. Or feel discouraged when it feels like you’re dealing with the same struggle for the tenth time. This is your journey. No one else has lived like you have and will. There’s a beauty in that, and there’s peace in the knowledge that Jesus will never leave or forsake you.

Day Three: The Wilderness

WHEN I was little I lived in a small desert town in the middle of Uzbekistan. If you walked down our street and took a left, the road would take you straight to the base of some brown rolling mountains. These weren’t Instagram-able mountains. They were barren, covered in spiky thorn bushes that the local sheep would nonchalantly chew through with jaws of steel. Except for a brief couple of weeks in April during the rainy season when they’d explode into neon green, our mountains stayed mud-brown and sandy.

It wasn’t beautiful, but it was wild, and as children we couldn’t stay away. We’d spend days tromping around, exploring the barren foothills. We’d pack picnics and march to the top, pretending no one had ever set foot there before. Sometimes they hadn’t.

Even as a nine year old I knew it wasn’t pretty, but I accepted our wilderness for what it was— our wilderness. Because even though there was a small park just a few blocks from our house, I still found I learned so much more about life in the mountains. They were mine to roam and I loved them.

Looking back I don’t think I would be able to love those mountains now as much as I did as a child. They were ugly, looming, dry. I don’t think I’d be able to hear their invitation to be accepted and explored. I’d probably run away. 

That’s what I’m tempted to do these days when I encounter wildernesses in my faith. When I run into the ugly and undeniable, I try to turn my face. When questions loom over me dark and muddy-brown, I’m tempted to pretend they don’t exist. They aren’t pretty. They raise more dust than I’d like, kicking up questions with their restless winds.

But I’m learning something. Sometimes when we ask Jesus to take us out of the wilderness, he turns to us and says “No, you go explore.” 

I wonder what beauty and rugged truth we’d discover if we had the courage to wander inside our doubts and fears, instead of wishing them away. What glory would unfold itself if we climbed its peaks, raised our flags and shouted at the top of our lungs “I was here!”

I learned things in my wilderness.

I learned that you can find springs of water in the most unlikely places, like in the cave between the two highest peaks near our house. This was useful information, I’d tell my younger sister, in case we needed to run away from home, because now we knew we could survive in the wilderness with clean spring water and the shelter of the cave.

I learned abandoned dreams sometimes make the best playgrounds when we found an old forgotten cement factory one hill over from the park. We slid down dry cement sand hills in a completely empty lot, with huge factory towers looming over us. I’m glad we stopped and played here because when we tried to go back and find it the next day we couldn’t. I still secretly suspect it was a mirage.

I learned to find my way back home. When you’re nine and ten you feel like you can conquer anything and no distance is too far to run. But when the sun is setting and you’ve lost sight of anything familiar you got to remember how you got where you’re standing. I learned to track the steps that brought me out, and take those steps to get back home again.

“For the LORD your God has blessed you in all that you have done;

He has known your wanderings through this great wilderness

These forty years the LORD your God has been with you;

you have not lacked a thing.” - Deuteronomy 2:7

I’m not sure what your wilderness is today. Maybe you’re staring a giant dust cloud headed your way and you’re running for cover. Maybe you’re desperately looking for that spring water in someplace that feels impossible.

It’s possible to love the wilderness for what it is. When you’re not trying to treat it like the promised land, when you understand its place in your life you can embrace it. You can trust that you aren’t here alone, however dry and dusty it might be.

Today, on day three of this devotional, I’m going to ask you to lean into the dust storm. Go wander the foothills of these uncharted parts of your faith. You won’t go alone. You’re not here by accident, there’s purpose and beauty even here, here in your very own wilderness. Go explore. 

Day Two: Have Mercy On Those Who Doubt

EARLIER THIS year I tried being vegan. Both my parents are vegan, one of my co-workers (tries) to be vegan and they all love it. In my eternal quest to try to eat and be healthier while living on the road, I thought this would introduce some healthy guidelines that would be easy to follow. 

So I said good-bye to cheese and bacon, and hello to a world of plants. I thought. 

By the end of my three month trial I had gained weight and was hungry more frequently than ever. I found myself irritable, grumpy and exhausted at the end of every day. How could I be ignoring all my favourite foods and STILL be so unhealthy?

Turns out I wasn’t ignoring ALL my favorite foods. Some days instead of eating carrot sticks and hummus I would just chow down on an entire bag of chips. Or the only thing I’d eat from dinner was the coconut ice cream, or I’d have three pieces of toast and plant-based margarine for breakfast. I was basically living on an all carb diet with some fruits and vegetables thrown in for good measure. No wonder it wasn’t working. 

The reason I’m telling you this story isn’t because I think a vegan lifestyle is horrible and unhealthy (when done correctly I'm sure it's great, I just love potato chips too much!) I’m telling you this story because I think we all have our own brand of unhealthy spirituality we keep under wraps. 

Maybe you don’t struggle with doubts in your faith in the traditional sense: i.e. you don’t struggle to believe Jesus was real, or that the Bible is the word of God, or that there is a heaven. Good for you. But maybe you doubt that God really loves you.

You doubt Jesus died to save your sin.

You doubt his ability to provide your next paycheque.

You doubt he has goodness behind all the pain.

You doubt he’s sovereign in your circumstances.

You doubt, you doubt, we doubt. 

In other words, you might be vegan but that doesn’t mean you’re healthy. 

I’m not trying to make anyone here feel bad about themselves, but I am trying to destroy the notion that one form of doubt is better than another. 

“But Gabby,” you might say, “I don’t struggle to believe Jesus is God, I just struggle to believe he loves me.”

To which I would remind you that Jesus not only says he’s the son of God, but that’s he is the embodiment of love, here to take away the sins of the world. Doubting and disbelieving one aspect of who Jesus says he is isn’t holier than another. They’re just different because we’re all created and wired differently, and (thankfully!) Jesus makes room for us all at the table. Yesterday we looked at how Jesus interacts with doubters: he’s patient (John 21:8), he sends them out to make disciples (Matt 28:16-20), he shows them physical evidence (John 20: 20), he asks the Holy Spirit to open their minds (Luke 24: 45).

Today I want to talk about how we treat each other. 

We have this disease where we secretly celebrate other people’s failures. It makes us feel better about ourselves, because while we may not be perfect, at least we’re not like them. That’s how the Pharisees treated sinners and doubters— with self-righteousness and shame.

Jesus has much harsher words for Pharisees than he ever did for his disciples in the deepest moments of their doubt and suffering. 

Walking in faith isn’t all about a path to perfection, it’s about us bringing our real selves before the real God. Jesus is our righteouness, which means he desires your authentic self, no matter how broken you may feel. 

The main story line of the Bible is the collective journey of broken doubters, clinging to God for hope, salvation and peace.  

Abraham doubted he’d have a son.

Moses doubted Pharaoh would let his people go.

The Israelites doubted the promise land (like so much!)


So let’s come alongside side each other in times of confusion and doubt, trusting these things are just part of the journey. Jesus might use you to display his patience, you to make disciples, you to prove the evidence, and you to open someone else mind.  While doubt may be part of our story, fear and isolation don't have to be. 

So I’ll leave you with this encouragement from the book of Jude, written by Jesus’ own brother:

“But you, beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourself in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. And have mercy on those who doubt…” (Jude 20-22)

Go, have mercy on those who doubt. 
 

Day One: Jesus Doesn't Shame Doubters

I remember sitting in my first Bible study as a fifteen year old and feeling out of place. I’d been raised in a Christian home, I owned a Bible, I’d heard all these things before, and yet I had questions and feelings about the things I was reading. Everyone else seemed so sure, so confident, so in tune with Jesus, like they had him on speed dial. Their Bibles were marked up and dog-eared. While mine looked newish even though I’d had it since my baptism when I was 12. I was too scared to ask my questions, to reveal my doubt, so I shoved it away.

Fast-forward six years and I’m in college, my Bible is frayed and marked up. I know all the right answers to all the questions. I’ve this Christianity thing on lock, and yet there’s this nagging question in the back of my mind: is this enough? Am I doing this right? I’m trying to put forth a sure and confident front, but inside there are still questions and doubt.

Another six years and I’m married, I work for a Christian band, I love Jesus with my whole heart but to be honest there are still days I struggle being real with my Christian peers. And sometimes that fear leaks into my relationship with God. Some days I still feel like that 15 year old looking around at the kids in my Bible study wondering how they can seem so confident and sure about their faith. Sometimes it feels like I’m alone. 

But I know I’m not. We just don’t like to talk about doubt in Christian community. We don’t like grey areas. We don’t like things that don’t feel black and white, or not having answers. It’s scary. 

When I experience doubt, cynicism or fear I either ignore it— stomp it out, hide it in the closet, under the bed, pretend it doesn’t exist— or I brood over it privately keeping it alive. I do this because it’s too scary to share these things with other Christians. Because somewhere, somehow, having doubts and fears has turned into not being a good Christian. I’m afraid by sharing my doubt I’ll be shamed for not “just having faith.”

But Jesus doesn’t shame doubters. Instead he asks them to make disciples. Yeah you read that correctly. Let me show you what I mean. 

“Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:16-20)

This is the story: Jesus dies. He rises again. He gathers his friends. And some of them are like “Yeah I’m not sure.” But their doubt doesn’t stop him. Jesus doesn’t say “Okay everyone who is feeling great about everything can you step aside so I can give you a special assignment?”

He sends them all. 

Okay here’s another story: Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well. They talk. She’s sarcastic and snarky. He’s patient and kind. Eventually he tells her things about her life and heart no one has ever known. She too gets sent back into town to tell her friends about Jesus.

“Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, ‘Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?’” (John 4:39)

Even after Jesus tells her everything she’s ever done she has more questions, not less. Jesus doesn’t shame doubters, he sends them into the world to share his love and truth. Why? 

I think it’s because he knows that even doubters (like me) have an important story to tell. He knows some of us are going to have questions. He knows faith doesn’t come naturally to us all. There’s no shame is bringing him our questions, doubts and fears. He is big enough to handle them all, and there’s grace enough to work through the process of not knowing the answers. 

So if Jesus doesn’t shame doubt, then why do we as the church?

Why is it that I get nervous butterflies that make my stomach a little queasy when I think about sharing these raw and vulnerable thoughts with the world? 

I’m scared you’ll judge me. I’m scared you’ll think I don’t love Jesus. I’m scared you’ll think my faith isn’t rooted, strong or even real. I’m scared of what you’ll think. 

But I know that if I feel this way, there there are others that do too. I’m tired of shoving my doubts and fears into a corner. Jesus doesn’t, why should I?

So today, day one of this seven day devotional, I want to create a new space. This place is for the ones who don’t have all the answers, and the ones who think they do. It’s for those of you praying “I believe! Help my unbelief!” It’s for Martha who’s afraid of what will (or won’t!) happen if she stops for even a second. It’s for Thomas who needs proof. It’s for Gideon who needs a sign. It’s for David who is afraid he’ll never climb out of the pit. It’s for Jonah who is the worst-best missionary. It’s for the thief on the cross who just wants to be remembered.

It’s because even if we as Christians sometimes lack grace and patience with one another, Jesus doesn’t. He’s standing, arms wide open, ready to sit down with you and talk it through. 

You may leave with more questions instead of answers. You may find it scary and uncomfortable. 

That’s okay. Grab your coffee, and let’s get ready to bring our real selves before the real God, resting in the truth that he already knows it all. 

We don’t have to be ashamed.