When I had really hit rock bottom in my faith a while back I started listening to the Liturgists. Michael Gungor described his initial journey to atheism as feeling like you've been clinging to a rock in a raging river and then just letting go.

I found that metaphor freeing. I'd spent years with nagging questions, praying for an assurance that never came. Years of struggling and knowing, as a good evangelical Wesleyan-Arminian, that my belief had eternal and dire consequences. It was exhausting. Letting go felt so good.

In the process of trying to find something good and useful in the vestiges of my faith, I spent time looking for universal truths that helped me remain "Christian." But I realized pretty quickly I couldn't do that. I'm grateful for those who can find meaning there but I couldn't.

The choice for me has always been pretty black and white: faith is either everything or nothing. The middle road was just another form of death. Christ either makes a claim on my life to the exclusion of all else or is just a story I don't really need to be told anymore.

And I just couldn't let Jesus go. It can't not be true. I continually come back to Peter's words in John 6: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.”

This is all that matters.

I hate doing threads because I don't have much worth saying. Certainly not as well as others could.

But anywho that's where I am these days. Praying for the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. Because there's nowhere else I can go.