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“Doubter…” “Just like doubting Thomas…” I heard those types of statements enough. Doubt was bad. As in near blasphemy, you’ll-go-straight-to-hell bad. Doubt led to disbelief. Doubt came from questions. Therefore questions were bad. Doubt was worse. Disbelief… well, don’t think about it. And do not ever ask questions. Because questions lead to disbelief.

Questions, doubt, and disbelief loomed. Ignore the questions. Always have THE answers. Think in blacks and whites. Questions lurk in the gray areas. And questions lead you astray. They lead to disbelief. Don’t ask questions.

Where in the Bible is it written that we shouldn’t ask questions? The Bereans were praised for asking questions. Paul and David both indicated they had questions, and in David’s case, a LOT of questions. Job had questions. Yet all three are “good people” in the Bible. No one ever called David a doubter. They must have been reading from a different set of Psalms than me. And Job… I always kind of wondered how Job got away with questioning God like he did. He asked God some pretty hard, pretty accusing questions right to his face, if you will. I’ve never heard him referred to as a doubter.

Even Thomas, though he’s called a doubter now. We heard sermons about how Jesus rebuked him. However, in John 20, this is what happens:
26 Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”
27 Then Jesus said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and look at My hands. Reach out your hand and put it into My side. Stop doubting and believe.”

Jesus made a special trip for Thomas. He invited him to touch the wounds, even to put his fingers in them. Yes, he tells Thomas to stop doubting, but he doesn’t rebuke him for having doubted. He simply tells him to stop doubting. Yes, he goes on to say, 29 … “Because you have seen Me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Maybe that could be construed as a rebuke to some, but it seems like a very mild rebuke if it’s a rebuke at all. He doesn’t say “bad for you for doubting. Bad for you that you only believe now.” I don’t see that at all.

There are places in the gospels where Jesus says “oh ye of little faith.” True. Over time I’ve begun to see that as less of a rebuke. Maybe it was said with some humor. Or a sigh. Or maybe with a bit of irony. But it wasn’t something Jesus called the Pharisees… it was something he said to those closest to him, to the one who got out of the boat to walk on water, to the ones out on the lake with Jesus in the middle of the night in a storm, to those who’d just divided a few loaves and fish among five thousand and then picked up baskets full of leftovers. Sometimes it was the precursor to a miracle, and others it followed soon after one. And from a search in an online Bible, it appears that it may be something he said far fewer times than I thought from all the sermons on it that he must have said it. (Mt 6, 8, 14, 16, 17 and matching stories in the other gospels.) That’s just FIVE times. Five times in three years, or five times in 28 chapters. Including Peter sinking after he started walking on the water to Jesus. However, even if you want to take those five instances as rebuke of the disciples doubt, it still gives hope to us doubters… because Jesus obviously didn’t give up on them even when they did doubt. So there’s hope for us as well when we do, no matter what was yelled from our pulpits.

Doubt isn’t bad, and neither are questions. Both actually take faith. It takes faith (or absolute desperation) to ask questions about God without fearing the consequences. And neither leads to disbelief. Not really. But what about disbelief? Surely disbelief is bad. Except I’m not so sure in all cases it is. Sometimes we need disbelief to unbelieve some wrong things. Wrong things about God, the Bible, or even ourselves. And disbelief in those cases, as hard as it may be to accept, may even be a gift.

During the process of leaving my unhealthy church, I realized any God that was omnipotent and omnipresent wouldn’t be afraid of my questions. God is bigger than my doubts. And even before leaving, I came to understand that if truly “…neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord,” (Rom 8:38-39) and if really I was a creature, a person created by God, then even I couldn’t separate me from God’s love. Nothing I can do, no questions I ask, no doubts I encounter, will separate me from God’s love. Nothing. I may not see it, I may not feel it, I may not understand it, but it’s there nonetheless. It doesn’t stop even when I ask the questions that scare good Christians. And God already knows I have them. So I might as well ask.

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‍Entering in through the rickety doors of the old church building, streams of colored light pour in from the stained-glass windows as if to distract onlookers from the curling burgundy paint, peeling off the side wall near the doors. A frail, silver-haired gentleman in a modest suit welcomes the first-time visitors and directs them into the sanctuary. Inside the sizeable room resounds the hustle and bustle of ministers and musicians readying for the service to come: women’s feet pad across the floor, corralling their little ones into rows as men greet one another with firm handshakes before returning to their pews. Racing toward the pulpit, “Great American Hymns of the Faith” in hand, the song leader opens-up the morning service with a long-winded prayer. After saying, “Amen,” the middle-aged man instructs the congregation to open their dusty hymnals to page one hundred, “The Lily of the Valley.” Strong, thunderous male voices resonate across the room, bellowing out praises to Almighty God, a rumble that could even be felt outside. But something is amiss. Where are the women’s voices? Maybe the men lead in the first verse, and the women join in at the chorus? Or maybe they switch on the second? But the chorus comes and goes. The roar of the men’s echoing voices carries on through the second verse, the women still standing at their pews, eyes intensely glued to the words, merely swaying side to side as their husbands sing from across the room.

As the piano strikes the last chord, an elderly man hobbles over to the pulpit, placing his black, leather Bible open in front of him. His hair long gone, the wrinkles under his eyes tell the story of his years, exhausted from the daily load of a preacher. One would never expect the fury and hell-fire to spew from his aged body, but the solemn man preaches exuberantly for a solid hour on “Where are the Men?” The altar fills with men, young and old alike, begging forgiveness for not taking the baton and leading their homes, for not being an example of leadership in the church. Women weep quietly in their pews, privately asking God to help them be a more submissive wife, a better help-meet to their husbands. When the service ends, the women exchange glances, communicating the understanding of trials and struggles as stay-at-home wives and mothers. They never utter a word, understanding it is “a shame for women to speak in church” (KJV 1 Cor 14:35).

Loading their children into the vehicles, they sit quietly, waiting patiently for their husbands to finish fellowshipping, waving enthusiastically at one another through the windows and windshields. Although an outlier, even in extreme fundamentalism, this peculiar church takes Paul’s words to Corinth literally when he says, “Let your women keep silence in the church: for it is not permitted unto them to speak” (1 Cor 14:34). According to Merrian-Webster, patriarchy is “a society or institution organized according to the principles or practices of patriarchy: a social organization marked by the supremacy of the father in the clan or family, the legal dependence of wives and children, and the reckoning of descent and inheritance in the male line.” Despite the variation between congregations, the majority of Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) churches create an environment of male superiority that encompasses not only the walls of the church but permeates into the sacred structure and confines of the home.

Suffering Not to Teach

“Let the woman learn in silence, in all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.” 1 Timothy 2:11-12

Throughout Scripture, God uses women in various capacities to complete His work. In the Old Testament, God used Esther to stand up before King Ahasuerus in order to save the children of Israel from Hamon’s decree. God further sent Deborah, a prophetess (Jdg. 4:4), to call Barak to take ten thousand men and go after the people of Jabin. Despite these accounts, however, IFB pastors commonly rail against women preachers, mocking them for being unsubmissive and “usurping authority over the man”, further disputing the age of which young boys graduate to requiring a male teacher. Some pastors even venture to the extent of saying that if two men are discussing Scripture or theology, a woman should refrain from expressing her opinion, citing any augmentation would reflect poorly on her husband. In the event of a woman’s Bible study at home, a man should not be present in the room because he could accidentally overhear part of the instruction and inadvertently be taught by a woman. Someone should have informed Deborah considering she was a judge in Israel for forty years (Jdg. 5:31).

But what was Barak’s response to Deborah’s call to go? To hide behind a woman’s skirt: “If thou wilt go with me, then I will go: but if that wilt not go with me, then I will not go” (Jdg. 4:8), to which Deborah responded, “I will surely go with thee: notwithstanding the journey that thou takest shall not be for thine honor; for the LORD shall sell Sisera into the hand of a woman” (Jdg. 4:9). How ironic that God used yet another woman in the account, Jael, to drive a tent nail into Sisera’s temple with a hammer, fastening it into the ground (Jdg. 4:22). The idea of a woman involved in either situation would be considered appalling because the woman did not “wait on the Lord” to send a man to analyze the situation appropriately and accomplish the task.

The idea of a woman’s silence can further be carried over into business meetings. In the majority of churches my husband and I grew up in, the pastor met with deacons beforehand to determine information to be presented before the church, and then opened the floor for questions from all members of voting age, male or female. In our last IFB church, deacons were purposely not established, contrary to Scripture, and decisions were carried out through “the men of the church.” Every year, a men’s meeting was held to discuss positions such as treasurer and head usher. In the afternoon, the men returned home and discussed the information with their wives, and any grievances or disagreements the wives had could be presented through their husbands in the evening. Any business requiring immediate attention was discussed during a men’s meeting following the morning service, with information again transferred to the wives through their husbands, peradventure the husbands even deemed it necessary for their wives to be informed. It was not until following a recent church split that there was a meeting for “women without male representation.”

Within ministries, women’s roles are shaped by Peter’s words, “giving honour unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel” (1 Peter 3:7). While either gender may participate in musical performance, women may not lead in the congregational worship. Even in times of desperation, women are not permitted to be greeters or ushers, but are expected to miss services for nursery work, part of their “sacrifice” even as potential wives and mothers. Before special meetings, task lists to be completed are divided between the men and the women, men accomplishing jobs involving painting, lifting or any form of hardware and construction. Women are limited to cleaning bathrooms, kitchens, sanctuaries and baseboards while being expected to care for children. Pastors preach that having designated differences between men and women supposedly positions women on a pedestal of honor. In actuality, it establishes a false security within an environment of male superiority.

Though an unspoken rule in IFB churches, women are expected to possess intelligence enough to teach children at home or in a Sunday school class, while any questioning or expression of judgement and critical scriptural analysis is severely frowned upon. A woman is expected to ask questions of her husband at home- as is stated in Scripture- but should a woman openly show disagreement, she is essentially viewed as critical and unsubmissive. Even in terms of affirmation, churches generally consider it unacceptable for a woman to say, “Amen!” in church because it is considered “teaching the men,” and thus “usurping authority.” Take it one step further to women who are naturally extroverted, they are considered boisterous and loud, rather than having the assumed “meek and quiet spirit” of the introverted. Women are expected to be seen and only heard under the expectations and allowances of the men.

*Disclaimer* This series, “Why Am I a Baptist?” is NOT an exhaustive list of IFB doctrine and standards. Because of the autonomous nature of IFB churches, this evaluation is of the movement as a whole, rather than a hard-and-fast rule. It may be possible to find healthy IFB churches, but they are few and far between because of various associations known as “camps,” typically surrounding well-known preachers or preference of worship style.

Why Am I a Baptist?
IFB Doctrine: The Baptist Distinctives
IFB Churches: Patriarchy in Church Polity (Part One)
IFB Churches: Patriarchy and the Leading Lady (Part Two)
IFB Churches: Patriarchy in Marriage (Part Three)
IFB Churches: Patriarchy and Keeping at Home (Part Four)
IFB Churches: Patriarchy and Sexual Obedience (Part Five)
IFB Churches: Patriarchy and Domestic Abuse (Part Six)
IFB Standards: Rigid Music and Dress Standards (Part One)

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It happened again. I shared a part of my personal experience as it relates to Christianity, and felt rejected for doing so.

The fact is, repeatedly I’ve been made to feel, both in my former unhealthy church and in Christian circles since, that I’m not Christian enough. Not in all, but in too many. I’ve been told by pastors that I’d take too much work. Members have questioned and seemingly quarantined me. I asked a question in a Sunday School class that brought abrupt silence. The next Sunday only the teacher and I showed up. I’ve found myself unfriended on Facebook. And again, this is not by members of unhealthy church groups. This is by people who I’ve met since. This is not because I’m “confessing my faults” or participating in some accountability group, either. It’s because someone hurts and I have the audacity to say, “me too.” For me that’s a way of respecting others’ vulnerabilities as they share as well as growing, myself.

So am I not Christian enough? I really don’t care at this point. Judge me for that. I’m sick to death of Christians who believe we should not lie expecting me to live a lie, to hide behind platitudes and facades, pretending to believe just like they say they do, acting like everything is perfect in a fallen world, denying my own sorrow and grief and doubts and failures. So if being a Christian means living a lie, I hope I’m never THAT “Christian.”

I don’t think that’s what real Christianity is. I think that the whole idea that we have to “fake it til we make it” is an insidious lie and one of the most commonly accepted hypocrisies of American churchianity. The fact is we’re human. We live in a world filled with other humans. Sometimes life stinks. Sometimes things go wrong. And when that happens we hurt, we cry, we question. Sometimes we doubt God and sometimes we doubt ourselves. And pretending we don’t doesn’t fix one blessed thing.

God calls us to honesty. Honesty with ourselves and with Him. We don’t do that with fake smiles and hurried “amens” said while brushing all of our questions, fears, and doubts under the nearest rug. My life isn’t a Facebook wall. There are studies that use of Facebook actually has a correlation with increased depression and loneliness, and one of the reasons most cited is that on social media people tend to put only their best face forward. Most people don’t post on social media that they spilled soup down their blouse right before their presentation, that they have had a week of bad hair days, or that their child smeared poop on the wall for the third time that day. They post about the successes and share the cute baby and toddler pictures. The rest they leave off Facebook. Doing this leaves everyone reading their posts with a false impression that their friends’ lives are near perfect while their own are… a mess.

Think of what this might implicate within Christianity. If we only hear about the great services and prayer meetings that everyone else has been in and we privately realize we almost fell asleep in church for the third Sunday in a row, or our Christian friends talk about faith, faith, faith and how sure they are that everything will work out and itemize ALL the times God’s answered their prayers and never admit to the other times… or perhaps worse, if we get strange looks and sense mild shudders if we acknowledge we don’t understand something about God… what does that do? What image does that portray to those who are honest enough to have admitted to themselves that some things just don’t make sense? What does that teach those who aren’t quite ready to be honest, even with themselves?

To me, there are a lot of similarities. So I choose to be honest. And if that makes me not Christian enough, so be it. If people judge me, I’d rather them judge me for my honesty and not the design of my facade, but hopefully more will stop to see the beauty of the nuances that make me who I am and will relate and reflect themselves in their own honesty. Hopefully more will hear my respect of and empathy for their vulnerabilities. Hopefully more will take off their masks, strip away their facades, and enjoy the reality of each imperfect and incomprehensible but still very real moment with me.

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Christina shares medical and spiritual thoughts about being forced to fast by a faith group.

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Christina compares her experience in a Christian cult with the Christ she believes in now.

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