This past year I graduated college with a degree in theology and a focus in worship ministry. I was absolutely wrecked with the questions it brought up because I realized how much of my faith was rooted in fear. I started having to research the writers of the Bible, the historical accuracy of biblical stories, critical methods, history of Christianity, etc. Which was amazing and terrifying and freeing all at the same time. But I think I came on the Race having enough doubts and questions to fill a whole separate 50L backpack.
My biggest fear was evangelism. I pictured getting to Launch and having my squad play a get-to-know-you game or something, and the question gets asked, “what is your biggest fear?” and this missionary gal accidentally blurts out “evangelism!”
Cute.
But, like, I bawled through the entire evangelism talk at training camp to the point that the girl came and checked on me after, so my fear wasn’t totally illogical.
At debrief from month 1 we were encouraged to group up and do what they call ATL, or “ask the Lord.” Essentially you walk around the community and let opportunities for ministry and evangelism come to you. So pretty much, I started freaking out as soon as my group of three left the compound and starting walking amidst the local shops.
We turned down a dirt road that smelled faintly of urine and trash, and ran into a shop owner who wanted to shake our hand. This caused a minor commotion where multiple people ran over to greet us, including a man who tried to take one of my group member’s water bottles. I went into protective mode and tried to help my friend out, but he then introduced himself, and told us to follow him to his sister’s shop. So my group weighed our options, checked our surroundings, sent up a quick prayer, and followed him. I think we were each quietly making vows to run if he led us somewhere sketchy (don’t worry, mom!).
However he took us to his sister’s shop like he said—a man of his word—and we started helping her set out her merchandise for the day. They were very hospitable, so my group and I exchanged glances that conveyed something like, “is this maybe where God has led us…?!!!??”
In hopes that it was, we asked if we could pray for them. But the woman quickly retorted, “I have to set up my shop.” Me in my American, fast-paced, consumeristic mind didn’t want to wait, honestly. But, ya can’t rush God I guess, so we stood around, feeling quite awkward.
I don’t know if curiosity or the desire to fill the silence sparked the man to speak, but either way, I am grateful. He launched into a series of very intellectual and downright impressive questions:
– Who is Jesus? Who do Christians think he is vs. who Muslims think he is?
– What is the Bible? What is its purpose? Who are the authors?
– How can we trust the Bible as “inspired by God” if men wrote it?
– Who is the Muslim God vs. Christian God?
– Why is there only one church for Muslims but many denominations for Christians?
– What is the purpose of tradition?
– What is the benefit of believing in Christianity?
I mean, COME ON. I. Was. THRIVING. Immediately I launched into theories and perspectives and scripture and opinions, geeking out, all the while praising JESUS for Lipscomb’s theology program. At first I worried I was boring him or going too deep in theory, but that sweet man was hanging on my words. If I got distracted by something he would tap me and say, “no no let’s go, keep going!”
For all that, I felt it important to admit to him that my answers were simply because I also had asked the same questions.
And oh man. Who would’ve thought that this previously agnostic, turned missionary, with all her doubts and questions swirling around, would be talking with a local man about Jesus in a Ghanaian storefront. Not me, I can tell you that.
And through my short-lived period of evangelism, I got to see perhaps that everybody questions. Everybody wrestles. Everybody doubts. I’ve been learning the universal nature of love, laughter, and music while abroad, but I think included in it might be uncertainty. And I think that’s okay. That’s the beauty of community.
One of my professors once told me that amidst seasons of doubt, we can allow our faith to rest on the backs of faithful people whom we trust. I know the man I met may not trust me, having only known me for an hour or so, but I pray that I allowed that man some solid footing.
Not in my certainty, but in my questioning, too.
