Post-Christian. It’s not something I’ve ever been ready to be. It’s not a word I like; it seems to carry implicit judgment, superciliousness.

I’ve called myself a Christian for nearly twenty years. At times my Christianity was deeply emotionally rewarding, but the past few years have brought unsought, unwanted drifting and confusion. Without initiating any change, I began to experience mental and emotional barrenness in place of comfort, questions where I used to have peace.

My questions about the Bible and the “Christian” subculture grew so big they stretched my worldview to bursting, like a filling water balloon that explodes. From excited anticipation to useless rubber shreds. Water everywhere.

Can an explosion be subtle, gradual, incremental? Of course not. This one was, though. I didn’t know what to make of this unexpected development, the uncontained water all over the pages of my life, ruining it, drying it into stiff, unsightly wrinkles. In the absence of a better guiding narrative, I concluded I was losing my previously strong Christian faith. I hated this explanation, and it didn’t quite seem to fit, but I had no better.

Then, after weeks had turned into months, long past the point at which I’d wanted and expected to be rescued, I came across a library book I’d been desperately seeking for a long time. I’d never heard of it, but I could tell right away it was what I needed. I checked it out on the spot. Its cover looked dated, but the content could not have been more timely for me. “The Critical Journey: Stages in the Life of Faith” was written by Janet O. Hagberg and Robert A. Guelich. All forthcoming quotes come from this book.

“Faith” is a broad term, but this book’s spine was labeled 248, the Christian living section of the Dewey Decimal system. So I knew Christian authors had written, “If we have been people of strong faith, our life, though not necessarily easy, has fit nicely into our faith framework… [But] For the first time, our faith does not seem to work… Neither our faith nor God provides what we need to soothe us, heal us, answer our prayers, fulfill our wishes, change our circumstances or solve our problems. Our formula of faith, whatever that may have been, does not work any more, or so it appears… Many simply want to give up. Their life of faith may even seem to have been a fraud at worst, a mirage at best.”

These people got it! This lengthy quote captures well my experience with morning devotionals, the daily practice of reading Scripture and hearing from God through it. I had stopped “hearing stuff” at some point, seemingly for no reason. This “faith formula” had failed and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t twist God’s arm to make Him speak, and right when I needed it most, my faith itself was already so tattered it wasn’t much comfort for this huge loss.

Of course I wanted to give up. I chose not to, but I wondered if I had been deluding myself, what could account for the sharp difference in my experience, how I could think I had ever heard from God in the face of all this silence.

The authors use a model of six stages in a person’s faith journey, but they’re quick to clarify it’s not linear and hierarchical. Stages can come and go, forward and backward, and all are equally close to God. A merry-go-round has been a silly and helpful mental construct for me. Some of us on passionate, rearing steeds, others benched, but all still on the ride, cycling through our lives. We riders ultimately can’t speed ourselves up or slow ourselves down, but we have quite a bit of control over the posture we choose.

The chapters about stages 1-3 were vaguely familiar but felt so far away. Stage 4 was me. The authors described my lonely wandering but then placed me not on the outskirts, a pilgrim heading alone in the wrong direction, or somehow spiraling out of control, but right in the middle of a lifelong faith journey. God was taking me deeper, to a place where my assumptions, tribal affiliations, and formulas did nothing for me so I had no choice but to let them go.

I finally had an explanation for these recent strange years. I felt the deep, mixed relief of a medical diagnosis. A diagnosis means this has happened to someone before and there are known means by which to cope. Paths, however sparsely populated, to travel. I was riveted and deeply comforted reading my “symptoms” laid out in black and white. Here are some descriptions of stage 4:

“A deep inner journey; one that we are not informed or taught about and for which there are few models available.”

Check.

“Almost always comes as an unsettling experience…”

Check.

“It’s a mode of questioning, exploring, falling apart, doubting, dancing around the real issues, sinking in uncertainty, and indulging in a self-centeredness.”

Check.

“Gnawing questions become more and more unmanageable, questions about what we believe and have believed and about how we live and why we do and do not do certain things. We are no longer able to ignore or repress them…”

Check.

“In stage 4, the answers are replaced by questions. The journey is intensely personal and difficult to share with others… The haunting doubts themselves cause additional alienation from others… When our family and/or friends seem so sure, we are so very unsure.”

Check.

“We become aware of a larger gap in our lives of faith. We sense ourselves slipping more and more into a period of limbo.”

Check.

“We often look hopeless to those around us.”

Check, at least to myself. I haven’t asked anyone else if I look hopeless to them. Because, “One of the most difficult aspects of this stage in the journey lies in the sense gained from ourselves and others that we really are losing our faith and being disloyal to the group, the church… ourselves and our beliefs.” Yes. I often wondered if I shared my “symptoms” with others, with pastors and sincere Christians and leaders, how they would respond, what, if anything, they would diagnose.

Imagining their reactions, I didn’t dare open up much. I could easily imagine hearing an admonition to “try harder,” the implication I’m not doing the right things or putting in enough effort. But stage 4 can—probably always does—come on unwelcomely. It is not precipitated by neglect. It may even be precipitated by attention—attending to the truth of one’s inner life, no matter the cost.

“Stage 4” is also the final and most serious stage of cancer. I mean no disrespect when I say this overlap in terms feels appropriately serious. Losing faith can be an intensely painful process that turns one’s life upside down. Divorcing from this worldview can mean losing relationships and no longer belonging in groups or being eligible for certain types of service. I recently heard of a young woman who lost her job at a ministry and most of her friends when she admitted to being in stage 4 instead of pretending it away.

Many people leave the church at stage 4, sometimes for a long time, sometimes forever. Most churches are best equipped to serve and/or engage people in stages 1-3. Why is this? The book explains: “The sad truth is that [most priests, ministers, and other spiritual leaders] have not been led through this stage themselves and have not allowed themselves to question deeply or to become whole. So many of those to whom we often look most naturally for help are inadequate guides for this part of the journey.” Traditional authority figures are rarely equipped to constructively engage a stage 4 congregant. When I drifted from church for a time, I didn’t set out to distance myself, but the distance grew anyway. I didn’t feel I had much to offer, nor did I feel I was receiving anything of deep value from the church setting. Through no one’s ill will, I felt misunderstood and disconnected.

I’ve heard pastors seek feedback on why people leave the church and how best to serve so that people want to stay. There must be a million answers to both questions. But for my part, I’d like to ask them, “Is there any place at your church for people in stage 4? At your Sunday morning service, in your small groups, as servants in your ministries? If so, do they know it? (And if not, would you prefer they just stay home until and unless their beliefs better align with your church’s beliefs, for instance as listed on its website)?”

My current church frequently says things like, “Whatever you believe about God, you’re welcome here.” It’s unfortunate that such a statement is so rare; it’s tremendously comforting to any doubter. If that is true at your church, say it. It’s never implied in a church setting. You will reach two more groups of people — those who have not yet accepted Christ and those who have but now find themselves in an unexpected place, unsure if they’re welcome, assuming they’re not if specific beliefs are a prerequisite of belonging.

My proposed solution is unoriginal: awareness and support. We’re all going through something in life. Stage 4 is difficult enough without being mistrusted. The last thing anyone needs is a sense of being excluded or judged. Well-meaning people seemed vaguely concerned, like they just didn’t know what to do with me. This is fair, since I didn’t necessarily know what to do with myself, but it was no help.

On the other hand, I am blessed, encouraged, and calmed when I speak with someone secure enough in their own journey and in God to hear about my situation without fear or mistrust. Such a person, such a conversation, is a tremendous gift.

As a concrete practical solution, perhaps a pamphlet teaching about the stages of faith? A resource to instruct those in earlier stages and simultaneously encourage those in stage 4. Friends who hear about someone’s struggle could pass along the information, perhaps pointing them to the “Critical Journey” book I keep quoting and assuring them what they’re going through is normal. I think meeting with a group of people in a similar place would go a long way in salving the loneliness inherent in this stage, but as I consider planning one I am faced with plenty of questions about the concrete “how” of this idea.

Why don’t more people know about the stages of faith? Maybe it’s too optimistic of me to even ask, to think the information can be spread and the problem is as simple as awareness. Many aren’t ready to hear about stages they haven’t yet reached. When I came across descriptions of stage 4 before I had lived it, I couldn’t fit them into my thinking, so they passed me by without sinking in. When I was in stage 3, I saw others move past my own beliefs and grieved for them, thinking they were losing their faith and being disloyal (to paraphrase an earlier quote).

I won’t go into the other stages much but it is worth mentioning that stage 3 tends to be a time of outward productivity and influence. I’ve heard many people don’t reach stage 4 until their late 40s or early 50s when their kids are out of the house. Therefore, many people might enjoy a decade or more of robust stage 3 ministry, serving others, possibly in a public capacity. I suspect most prominent speakers/pastors/bloggers are at stage 3. This, of course, would make a transition to stage 4 look all the more jarring and unsettling,

Reaching this stage “earlier” could also be an isolating factor for me personally. While my peers are embracing leadership roles and spiritually thriving outwardly, I may appear to be moving backward as I serve only in a quiet capacity and my service includes fewer (and less) confident proclamations and more willingness to let people have their questions without feeling as though I have (or need to have) any answer myself.

I also wonder if stage 4 seems to present later in life because slightly older people may be better able to embrace contradiction and complexity than younger thinkers. They may have seen and experienced too much of God’s mystery to let go as easily. And I wonder if, undiagnosed, many stage 4 people identify themselves as post-Christian because, like me, they felt they had no choice, though their reality is something more complicated and less understood.

In the past when people believed differently than me, though I tried to respect and learn from their wisdom and knowledge, I still secretly felt I had the answer. Stage 4 has shattered that feeling almost completely. I am happy to try to tell others what I believe the Bible says and means, but I don’t feel as certain as I used to. I am more willing to let people use their own phrasing to describe truth rather than expect or wish they would use wording I am more familiar with. I can’t help but see this as an improvement.

Stages 5 and 6 are about a life of service to others, truly lived for God. Unshackled by pressure from others, even Christians, even pastors, free to follow God wherever He leads, whether it appears acceptable or scandalous. This is the light at the end of my tunnel. I may not like where I am, but it’s a prerequisite to the place I have asked God to bring me.

I would imagine people in stages 5 and 6 don’t feel the stab of panic and concern I have upon hearing the term “post-Christian.” I imagine they let people use whatever terms they want, trusting God to meet them inside their chosen labels without trying to coax them out.

May I learn to let go of shredded balloons and ruined pages and purely follow Spirit. May I help others to do the same.

Of everything I’ve ever written, this is the post I want you to share. If anything about this article resonated with you, or if you know anyone who might be able to relate, please share it, especially with pastors, teachers, or leaders who you think might be receptive. Please also feel free to reach out to me in the comments or through a personal message with your thoughts and experiences. Had you heard of these stages of faith or was this a new concept?

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