What Does It Mean To Have It Out With God?

A couple of months ago, the following book crossed my path:

Erin Hicks Moon is an acquaintance of mine. We run in the same circles and we’ve emailed once or twice, but we have not elevated our relationship status to that of friends quite yet. However, when my friend Micha talked about her new book, I’ve Got Questions, I was intrigued. And when I did finally read her book, I wanted to call her friend.

Moon’s writing is homey and warm, evidenced by the way she writes directly to readers. More often than not, she creates inclusivity when she uses words like “you,” “your,” and “yours.” She makes you feel like you’re right there with her, as she makes a funny quip or explores something deeper when it comes to faith and spirituality.

Because then, of course, there’s her book, which is both the story of her own faith deconstruction but also of many of the common themes found in conversations of faith deconstruction. Even though I’m not a huge fan of the word “deconstruction” (as I write a bit about in Church Camp, which could very well be considered part of the deconstruction tome), I see it’s place — and I see how writers like Moon are meeting the needs of readers who need someone to sit beside them when such upheaval occurs.

In that way, I wanted to pass along a couple of quotes from her book that stuck out to me.

On moments of disruption in the life of faith:

“BUT THEN. A disruption occurs. It could be a death. The loss of a job or position. Maybe it was a global tragedy or a reordering of the political landscape. Maybe there was an upheaval in the way you saw or understood another person. But whether it’s a lived experience or just a different way of looking at things, you’re presented with something new to consider” (120).

On missing the assurance of knowing and not being wrong:

“Of all the thing I miss post deconstruction, I long for my old friend Blessed Assurance the most … But we had to break up, me and my old friend Blessed Assurance, because after years of trying to doll up assurance so it looked like faith, I realized the two were not compatible. And when you give up on Blessed Assurance, there’s one question on the lips of everyone still huddled around the flagpole: But what if you’re wrong?” (201).

On believing in the goodness of humanity, that God really does love us:

“May I posit that many of us truly have not understood the implications of our belovedness? We are not fully able to see the belatedness of anyone else because we still believe, deep down, we are unworthy of love. Until we open ourselves to the possibility of God loving us, yes, and liking us, enjoying us, we will not be able to believe it’s true for anyone else. Jesus doesn’t have to psych himself up to suffer through an encounter with you. God doesn’t tolerate you, rolling their eyes at Holy Spirit behind your back. Jesus isn’t sitting at a desk like an IRS auditor, peering at you over his readers and listing out all the ways you screwed up and all the ways he cannot wait to gleefully punish you for your transgressions” (205).

On choosing love and liberation:

“Everything is a choice, right? You get to choose if you’ll worship a God who liberates or one who imprisons. You get to choose if you’ll serve the disconnection of adamantly proclaiming your rightness or connection in your wrongness” (219).

On pushing back, making change, and calling for accountability:

“Are you allowed to exist within a system and also call for it to be held accountable? Is it possible to make changes from inside an institution, or is that something people who are afraid to leave say? Am I a coward if I benefit from the community aspect of Christianity and all its trappings when I know others do not have the luxury of that community because they support fill-in-the-blank or they are fill-in-the-blank?” (223)

I don’t doubt I’ve Got Questions will meet the needs of a variety of readers, particularly of those who once grounded themselves in the evangelical tradition.

After all, we all have questions, and being curious, as it turns out, is a rather holy thing.