I am no longer a believer.  I haven’t been for quite a while, actually.  I think it started when I was going through my divorce.  So much I had understood about God prior to my divorce was completely turned upside down, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I lived a good life, I went to Church, I prayed, I did all the things young Christians are supposed to do - and yet, when I got married my life fell apart.  I believed that God would reward me for my good behavior.  I believed that because I trusted Him, everything would be all right.

What I believed was wrong.  But He wasn’t the problem - it was me.  I succumbed to the typical American brand of Christianity.  In the United States, our consumerist culture wired me to expect God to behave like a vending machine.  

For a Snickers, press “A8”.  For a happy marriage, press “A4”. 

The truth is, my belief in God was not truly tested until my marriage fell apart.  Sure, life threw challenges my way before then, but I always seemed to be able to navigate through them with ease.  Sure, I accredited it to God - and He certainly played a part - but I’m pretty sure I was the one reaching over and grabbing the steering wheel.  The happy optimism I had developed over the years even sustained me during the first few weeks when our marital tension reached a boiling point.  I was convinced God was using this time of trial to ultimately make our marriage stronger.  It was a Biblical perspective for sure, and may have been exactly what God placed on my heart to keep me “in the fight” so to speak, but the expectations tied to that thought were wrapped up in personal fear, not an innate trust in God.  I was in the fight with Him, but I was still the one calling the shots.

So I went back to the vending machine.

For marriage counseling, press “B6”.  For increased church attendance, press “D2”.  

Eventually, I resorted to pounding and kicking that stupid vending machine out of sheer frustration.  I wasn’t getting the results I wanted, even though I was doing all the right things.  The pounding soon turned to sobbing, and the sobbing turned to prayer.  Finally, I had reached a point of brokenness.  I had reached a point of utter dependence.  And it was there, in that moment, things changed.

I was no longer a believer.  I was a knower.  I knew God’s presence.  I knew He died for my sins, I knew He was resurrected, and I knew He would return.  I also knew that because I trusted Him, everything would be all right.  It had nothing to do with whether I believed it to be true - it simply was true, whether I believed or not.