Holy Doubt



I’ve started a new blog at www.droppingtheact.com. Check it out for the latest content.

Note:  Before I begin, I want to say that I know that everyone’s experiences are different and I’m not speaking for every missionary–I’m just sharing my story in the hopes that it helps someone else.  I write this to remember all that the Lord has done, and is doing, for me.  I don’t ever want to forget.  The Missions/India portion of the blog will be posted in a serial format, come back to read more.  Trust me, you would be completely overwhelmed if I tried to post it all at once!

With that out of the way…

Holy doubt–I know this is probably a controversial title, but it aptly encapsulates the way that I feel about the subject.  I don’t feel that doubt itself is holy, nor does the Bible support that theology, but when God works through something as painful as doubt and uses it to create something beautiful in my heart I have a tendency to view it as holy.

So, I would like to bring you along on the journey and share how God took me from doubt to holy doubt, and India (and a little bit of Thailand, but we’ll get to that) is the scene where it all played out.  Without India I would have had a much cheaper experience with God, and I am forever grateful to have had the opportunity to learn the wonderful, painful, life-changing things that God taught me there.

We arrived in India in late July, along with the monsoon rains, and by the end of October I was unraveling.  In the short span of three months, the small thread of sanity that had been relentlessly pulled at by a constant barrage of spiders, snakes, sleeplessness, monkeys, lack of running water, and the final straw–rats, was slowly being yanked from my hands and I didn’t know how to get it back.  Before sending us overseas, our missions organization had put us through a battery of tests that would put the FBI to shame, all designed to certify that we were mentally and physically fit to be on the field (we always joked that they were checking to make sure we were crazy).  But by the end of our first three months in country, I was sure they had made a mistake when they approved me.

A few days before my son’s fourth birthday I found myself wandering along a deserted mountaintop road, the damp air clinging to me like an unwelcome spirit.  Staring down the steep cliffs, punctuated by towering, ancient evergreens, I wondered if anyone would ever find my body if I decided to jump, and questioning if, maybe, my family would be better off if I did.  At that point I had ceased to be the independent, fully-functioning woman that I had been accustomed to being, and that was where I found my value as a wife and mother….(more to come tomorrow–to follow this thread go to the “Holy Doubt” tab and scroll to the bottom and work your way up)







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