When I was in first grade, my teacher explained to me that we could talk to God whenever we wanted to and He would always listen, He was constantly available. That night, overwhelmed by this understanding, I lay awake in my bed with tears streaming down my face. I tried to explain to my mother how amazing it was to be able to talk to God. My little heart was brimming with wonder.

Over the years, I learned that that same curious, grateful heart was also built for doubt. I believe now that the tendency to be moved by wonder to this degree is a gift located behind one door of the heart that is only accessed by those who also grasp for light in the lonely, spacious corners of doubt.

Despite the difficulty of doubt, I have come to believe that my faith would somehow be less without it. My doubt is another dimension in my relationship with God; it reminds me of His constant readiness and forgiveness and the very real limitations of my human condition. Without my doubt, I would not know what it looks like to be pulled out of doubt. I would not recognize the relief that comes from a renewed trust in my God.

My doubt has formed layers of depth within me like an ancient flood carving through a mountain side. My wonder has lifted me to a place so high that the view seems to threaten to expose divine secrets and I forget that I am still my Shadowlands self.

Within this binary, I seek the only law that will liberate me. I am walking and working and yearning for Home.


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