Losing the Landmarks of Faith

We all carry a kind of mental map of our spiritual journey, even if you might not be aware that you are operating one. Like most maps, yours probably depicts familiar landmarks by which you navigate and measure progress on your Christian faith pilgrimage. Symbolising the fundamentals of faith such as orthodox beliefs and doctrines, regular personal and communal times of worship, prayer, and sacraments, acts of evangelism, mission, or social action, we consider our landmarks or milestones as being there to keep us on the ‘right path’, ever pointing towards God.

But what happens when your experience of faith begins to change so dramatically, that you feel you’re getting to the edge of your known map? Or worse, you begin to lose ‘faith’ in some of your formerly dependable landmarks? I don’t mean the basic tenets of the Christian faith here, but those beliefs and practices that for example create the familiar rhythms of how we live out our Christian life.

This is known as ‘faith-disorientation’. And when we feel disoriented in the natural, such as when we experience dizziness, dementia or losing our way when travelling, we can quickly get confused or bewildered. And that can feel both frustrating and frightening. True faith-disorientation for Christians tends to extend beyond the normal struggles of life towards a perception, on some level, of a ‘breakdown’ of one’s map of the Christian journey i.e., that the anticipated Christian life might not be all that was assumed or promised.

In his book Journeying in Faith[i], Evangelical author Alan Jamieson has researched and identified obstacles and responses that Christians frequently experience as their faith-map begins to be challenged. We may, for example, become bored or disenchanted with the form of Christianity being expressed in our church or tradition. Commonly, this can involve feeling out of step with the rest of your Christian community. Relentlessly upbeat songs or hymns may feel especially discordant or wrong when you are going through times of heartbreak or darkness. We might begin to reject the didactic forms of preaching that don’t seem to allow for genuine discussion or opportunities to disagree. Broken relationships within our Christian community can spoil our sense of belonging or commitment and our respect for our clergy leaders may begin to dwindle for a variety of reasons.

Kathy Escobar, in Faith Shift[ii] quotes some different ways in which people can respond when facing this situation:

‘My initial questions and doubts have only led to more questions and doubts.’

‘I’ve lost my connection to God and therefore the church.’

‘The bible doesn’t seem true or make sense any longer.’

‘I feel anger about what I was made to believe or how I was forced to behave.’

‘Religious activities that used to bring peace or meaning now feel like fingers on a chalkboard.’

‘Calling myself a Christian now feels dishonest, I don’t know how to label myself any longer.’

I wonder if you have ever felt like this.

I don’t suppose many of us actively seek out uncertainty or disillusionment, especially in relation to religious beliefs we used to hold without question, which now feel lifeless or untrue. But doubts and unravelling faith creep up on us, often unbidden and suppressed until they cannot be ignored any longer.

This little discussed, but surprisingly common experience can be a lonely, isolating place. I should know as I’ve trodden this territory myself which became a powerfully motivating factor in choosing to write Reimagining the Landscape of Faith.  Offered as a kind of travel guide to help others navigate challenging times, we propose that rather than perceiving the situation as backsliding, or unreasonable doubting, we can choose instead to interpret the picture differently. For instance, we could decide to open up a perfectly valid space to review and reassess the state of our faith instead.

We could ask ourselves key questions such as: are the common landmarks espoused so definitively by me or my church tradition the only ones. Is there a possibility that my map is limited? If I turned to the next page of my map, might I notice landmarks I haven’t seen before?  And what would happen if I gave myself permission to reimagine some old landmarks from time to time, through acknowledging changes in my experience or understanding as I grow older?

Losing landmarks of our faith can certainly be distressing but instead of perceiving ourselves as ‘failed Christians’ or the experience as a disaster, we’re taking our doubts and questions seriously – using them to critically reevaluate our beliefs and practices. Exploring where our landmarks came from, how they were passed down to us and what they might symbolise for us at this point in our faith journey, which may be different to years gone by.  

Actively befriending faith-disorientation could mean that, like Abraham, we expect to leave comfortable and familiar places to travel toward places of which we know little if anything. Over time, just as our eyes adjust to situations of darkness and our senses become more astute, we could learn to trust our new kind of ‘blindness’ because we realise that regardless of how robust certain declarations of faith are made, all of us are only truly able to see ‘through a glass darkly’ in this life (1 Corinthians 13:12). There might even be a sense of freedom from having to feel ‘certain’ all the time.  And in walking towards unfamiliar doors or passageways in faith, we might discover new, equally important or meaningful landmarks of faith.

For example, in yesteryear I might have found life in God through praying loudly in the company of others, but now I may find God and be more spiritually fruitful through silent, contemplative prayer on my own. Before I might have perceived the landmark of mission solely in terms of speaking the gospel, whereas now I might feel influencing the culture at my workplace or being active in earth care are equally as important. And as I continue to grow, I try to stay open to God leading me towards new landmarks - ones I simply cannot imagine today.

Here’s an interesting thought: what If we expected to ‘lose’ or indeed surrender some of our landmarks e.g. practices, assumptions, expectations at regular intervals, having learnt what was needed or seemed appropriate at any given stage of faith? What if all landmarks potentially be deemed to have a temporary ‘shelf-life’ until reassessed, some outliving their purpose at different stages on the onward journey to make way for a new landscape of faith to emerge?

Maybe our landmarks don’t have to be ‘set in stone’! Meaning? Faith-disorientation, at any or every stage of the journey, could be the best thing that ever happens to you!

So, if you are despairing that your faith journey seems to have hit a dead end or you can’t be bothered to stay the course any longer, remember this: no faith journey goes in a neat linear line, even for those who think they are equipped with a reliable map. The path of faith probably resembles more of a labyrinth – walking in a pattern where the traveler never really knows precisely where they are or how close to the centre they might be at any given point. 

Maybe don’t give up quite yet. Even if you are crawling along, and there have been many times when I have felt thus, you are probably still imperceptibly moving forwards. Perhaps in the dark. Perhaps with absolutely no faith that you will arrive anywhere anytime soon. But one day, you may come into a ‘clearing’ in those seemingly impenetrable woods, enabling you to perceive some landmark or signpost which seems meaningful, worth paying attention to. And that subtle frisson that God might still be with you, scattering breadcrumbs here and there is enough to convince you that there is a path forwards. Enough to persuade you to keep going, however falteringly.

A possibility summed up in some wise words from St. Augustine:

‘On earth we are wayfarers, always on the go. This means that we have to keep on moving forward. Therefore, be always unhappy about where you are if you want to reach where you are not. If you are pleased with what you are, you have stopped already. If you say, ‘It is enough,’ you are lost. Keep on walking, moving forward, trying for the goal.’

[i] Alan Jamieson, Journeying in Faith: In and beyond the tough places (SPCK, 2004)

[ii] Kathy Escobar, Faith Shift, (Convergent Books, New York, 2014), pp. 66-7.