The Last Temptation of Hope

I've had this revelation of late...it is not what I can't believe about Christianity that keeps me from the faith, but rather, ironically, it is what I believe to be true about Christianity that poses the greater barrier to my return. I mentioned in an earlier post that I might classify myself as a fundamentalist; I believe it is because of this latent fundamentalism that I am unable to genuinely consider a return to the faith. That Faith, with a capital F, to me is, for the most part, a clearly defined set of doctrines (orthodoxy) and practices (orthopraxy) of which I am no where near at this point. I question even if I desire to ever be there again, yet I am unable to break with old notions. And still I so desire to find a different path back; I can't bare to retrace my steps and it is impossible to navigate to the place from whence I started. Be that as it may, as tragic and touching as my words may be, I am convinced that my need, no matter how justified and palpable, neither creates nor ensures an answer to that need.

This may prove to be the final test of resignation, the last temptation of hope. I cannot return, in fact, I refuse to return simply to give my life the meaning it so desperately needs. I despise foxhole Christianity. I would have committed my life to Christ on each one of the flights I endured this past year the moment turbulence arose only to claim it again like baggage once I arrived safely at the terminal. Perfect love drives out all fear. And it is that love, the same love that one lays down one's life for his friends, the love that others will see Christ through, the love that makes meaningful the sound of the clanging cymbal and the resounding gong that is so elusive. But I can't help but wonder if it is that same love that is drawing me further in.