Death and Doctrine, Part 3: Scared Christians

Given the prospect of death, many Christians seek knowledge and certainty in the face of their finitude. It never ceases to amaze me just how confident Christians can appear in their pronouncements, assertions, and judgments. And my knee-jerk reaction is always, "Really? How can you possibly know that?"

This is not to say that we cannot make passionate judgments. It is just that, at the end of the day, we recognize that faith involves doubt, risk, and courage. No Christian can claim to know anything. We believe a great deal. But we don't know.

And yet, when you listen to many Christians, you get the sense that, for some, belief is sliding toward knowledge. The reason seems clear: Belief is risky and knowledge is comforting.

What I'm saying is that dogmatism is a symptom of fear. To be dogmatic--to know--is existentially comforting. There is no doubt. No risk. No possibility that you could be wrong. And that has got to feel good. Very comforting. Soothing.

The trouble is, this fear makes you a terrible conversation partner. Before we even begin to converse you already know all the answers. And if I do start making some good points, poking holes in your comforting worldview, you get defensive and shut the conversation down.

If what I'm saying is true, the world is filled with scared Christians. And I've personally seen the fear on their faces. I've been conversing with people when I've made a point or observation that powerfully hits at their dogmatic worldview. And you can literally see the flicker of fear move across their face. They sense that you've just wiggled something deep within their worldview. Something foundational MOVED. Not by much. But it moved. And that scares them.

Have you not seen this yourself in your encounters with dogmatic Christians?

At this point, when the fear emerges, the person has a choice to make. Do I continue to go forward, knowing that my dogmatic house may crash down around me? Knowing that I might have a long and difficult journey ahead of me? Or do I retreat? Do I back away in fear, protecting my faith as it stands?

Existential psychologists have long framed the choice like this: Will you face the existential challenge with its accompanying anxieties or will you retreat and live with illusions?

At the end of the day, faith is risky. Faith implies a potential for failure. But risk and failure do not shut out the anxieties. So we pretend--living with illusions--that faith is risk free and that success is guaranteed. We trade in an authentic faith a security blanket. (And then proceed to act like a dogmatic jerk to all potential conversation partners.)

These thoughts remind me again of my recent readings from Tillich. Some final thoughts from Tillich:

"The element of uncertainty in faith cannot be removed, it must be accepted. And the element in faith which accepts this is courage."

"Where there is daring and courage there is the possibility of failure. And in every act of faith this possibility is present. The risk must be taken."