An honest faith

In a recent Sunday Times article, ‘Unhappy clappy’ journalist Christina Patterson described her experiences as a young woman in UK evangelical churches at the ‘charismatic’ end of the spectrum in the late 1970s and early ‘80s. 

Ms Patterson is now an atheist, as she made clear in a talk given last year, ‘What I have learned from religion.’ She now feels that the evangelical culture she inhabited from the age of 14 – 24 damaged her’ it ‘wrecked my youth’. She speaks of her ‘escape from it.’ What can we, as Christians, learn from what Christina Patterson shares?

Her experience underlines how open teenagers are to a clear and challengingly presented belief-system which seems to provide answers to tough questions, gives community and purpose, and encourages passionate engagement. It’s this teenage open-ness which inspires Muslim young people to align themselves with ISIS.

Awareness of the vulnerability of teenagers will prompt us to extreme honesty in sharing our faith with them. We must tell it as it is; we must be real about our own religious experiences.

We will, be careful of the language we use. ‘The Lord told me,’ some of us announce. Ms Patterson says of a friend ‘Like every Christian I knew, she seemed to be much better at hearing God’s voice than me.’

But what do we mean when we say God has spoken? Very, very few of us have heard a physically audible voice. We believe we are hearing God when Bible verse or some phrase we’ve heard somehow ‘awakens’ in us; when a thought rises up from somewhere deep in us; or when a new idea comes bringing energy with it; when one of the silent voices which are forever dialoguing in our head speaks with convincing authority.

We’ve learned that there is often a mysterious givenness about these things. Why do we not share that mystery rather than confidently and unhelpfully saying ‘The Lord told me?’ Sometimes we say these words because we feel it’s expected of us, or to try to convince ourselves, or to win the approval of those we respect. Our lack of honesty makes others despair as they are made to feel their poor spirituality falls far short of ours.

We need to acknowledge that we are all different. Christina Patterson mentions that genetic and cultural influences predispose some of us towards religion, and that certain forms of epilepsy give rise to profound religious experiences. She’s right – and yet we often imply that our religious experiences should match those of a St Paul, a St John or some other famous believer. How wrong! We all experience God in different ways and to different degrees.

And we are on a journey. Often, these journeys lead from a conservative, somewhat fundamentalist position to a more liberal one; for some, the journey leads in the other direction.  Ms Patterson had issues with passages in the Bible which seemed offensive to her. People need to be encouraged to own and explore these questions, to pray and wrestle with them, to incorporate them into their faith and so to move forward.

We need to achieve a balance between belief and action. Ms Patterson has written approvingly of the traditional Church of England, rather vague in its beliefs, but warm, generous, loving. The sincerity of our beliefs is measured by the love they give rise to. How much time do we spend tinkering with theological systems, devoid of love?

Christina Patterson remained as long as she did in evangelical circles because of supernatural expressions of faith – healings, ‘words of knowledge’ when she was told things about herself which no-one else could have known. Surely, the faith which give rise to this must be true? But later in life, she experimented with Reiki and found that whispering secret words brought healing in that context too.

Her conclusion? ‘Weird stuff happens.’ You can’t base any system or worldview on unexplicable happenings. 

Ultimately Ms Patterson turned her back on a God she’d ‘come to hate.’ She’d been seriously ill. Friends prayed for her. God was silent.

We must acknowledge mystery. To acknowledge that gifts very similar to the Christian charismatic gifts are seen in very different contexts. To acknowledge that God is at times silent, apparently inactive. On the day of his crucifixion Jesus kept the faith despite imponderable mysteries.

I wonder if Christina Patterson’s journey would have been different if she’d been shown just a little more sensitivity?

Christina might argue that I’m sidestepping the problems and rendering faith meaningless by talking up the mystery of God. But it’s not all mystery. In Jesus Mystery came among us with a human face. Jesus challenges us to entrust ourselves to the Mystery, and thus on our clearer-seeing days discover that God is our Father.

(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News dated 9th April 2015)