“It was cultural.”
That was the response I got from two different people not too long ago when I expressed my disturbance over the fact that Mary is thought to have been just a young teenager when the angel came to her, bearing “good news of great joy” that she would have a baby.
This isn’t a new concern. I’ve had it for more than two decades. A young teenager having a baby is upsetting to me, more so as our daughter gets older and I think of her little self in the not-so-far-future bearing the physical and emotional pains of childbirth.
Somehow managing to shuffle my concern over Mary to the side with the belief that in heaven I will understand and that some things are just unknowable, I am nonetheless continually disturbed that the response is often: (1) short and (2) filled with certainty:
On the birth narrative: “It was not unusual for a girl to marry at the age of 12 and have a baby.”
On the problem of evil: “Sin came into the world.”
On the issue of eternal damnation for those who haven’t heard the gospel: “The Bible is clear that all those who haven’t trusted in Jesus will perish.”
On the issue of women in pastoral leadership: “See Ephesians 5 and 1 Timothy 1; it’s right there.”
The irony of stating the birth narrative as cultural and the issue of women in pastoral leadership as not cultural isn’t lost on me. But that’s for another day.
Let’s be clear: there are some things we won’t know this side of heaven. For example, the problem of evil is so large that although nearly every church leader has written or spoken on this, we still don’t have an adequate answer to truly satisfy the soul. Because the problem itself is so disturbing.
Let me return to the two points I sometimes notice when those in the church are asked hard questions: (1) their answers are short and (2) their answers are said with no waffling.
I have a hunch (more than a hunch, I think) that many of us who are wrestling with the church aren’t doing so because of the Bible or because of Jesus. Rather, we are having a hard time with the people who are part of this holy family of faith.
When answers to hard questions do not seriously take into account the person asking the question, we have done harm. When we convey an attitude of pride and arrogance in our responses instead of girding ourselves with humility, we have placed yet another barrier up for those wrestling with hard issues.
The end result of every one of the above answers to my hard questions was first anger and then disappointment. (Confession: I wanted to switch those two around, making me appear more godly than I actually am!) When our questions and concerns are not validated or are shrugged off with a nod and a wink, a bond of unity is broken. A once-thought safe space is no longer safe.
Our anger may cause us to lash out initially, but later it can dissolve into disappointment. And when we experience disappointment after disappointment, each one becomes harder to rebound from.
This, as I’ve written about before, is that little truth from Proverbs: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” When we honestly ask a question and we receive a curt response, we feel as though our questions don’t actually matter.
I have a confession, friends. Years ago, it dawned on me that when I was first asking all the above questions, it was because I really wanted to understand the ways of God. Then, I began asking to see if anyone actually DID know the answers.
I kept asking to see if anyone actually cared enough to help me find an answer. Finally, I asked to see if anyone actually cared that I was even asking.
My search had become personal. Do you see the path?
Y’all, I’m going to push you a bit here because I’ve had to push myself. Disappointment and anger never resolve themselves. We have to check ourselves even when others aren’t. Let me share something C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity that was very powerful:
Suppose one reads a story of filthy atrocities in the paper. Then suppose that something turns up suggesting that the story might not be quite true, or not quite so bad as it was made out. Is one’s first feeling, ‘Thank God, even they aren’t quite so bad as that,’ or is it a feeling of disappointment, and even a determination to cling to the first story for the sheer pleasure of thinking your enemies are as bad as possible? If it is the second then it is, I am afraid, the first step in a process which, if followed to the end, will make us into devils. You see, one is beginning to wish that black was a little blacker. If we give that wish its head, later on we shall wish to see grey as black, and then to see white itself as black. Finally we shall insist on seeing everything — God and our friends and ourselves included — as bad, and not be able to stop doing it: we shall be fixed for ever in a universe of pure hatred.
When we have received crappy answers to our important questions or when we have been disappointed by the words and actions of those in the church, unless we stop ourselves, our natural trajectory will be towards becoming more cynical and jaded. As we trust people less, we begin to isolate and to doubt. This is natural because you know what? Continuing to put ourselves out there is hard!
It’s been years since I first started asking the hard questions. Twenty years later, the responses I sometimes get are still just as bad—short and prideful.
But there is something beautiful, I think, in continuing to ask and giving people the opportunity to answer well. I have been delighted that over the years I have indeed received some great answers, and they’ve all began something like this: “Laurie, I understand what you are saying. And I don’t have a good answer, but let’s continue to explore this together…”
As we begin the new year, don’t let disappointment keep you from being curious and insightful. I believe there is a humble and kind person just around the bend, waiting to walk with you through your hard questions and concerns. Look around. Do you see who that could be? If so, take (another) chance. That’s the only way to know.
May God bless you as press on in faith, friends,
Laurie