Finding God in the Waves

I’ve been deconstructing my Christian faith for the best part of two years. The process has been, at times, lonely, isolating and painful. My once sure and certain faith has slowly chipped away as I’ve walked down the road of doubt and deconstruction. It started as I began questioning little things, such as the teaching I’d been handed about LGBTQ relationships and sex. As I pulled at those threads, I suddenly found more were coming loose, and soon I was spiralling down the path of deconstruction as the answers that once made sense suddenly weren’t cutting it anymore. For a long time, I kept this to myself, feeling as if I was on my own, the only one in the church who was struggling with doubt and unbelief. I thought that if I tried harder, prayed more and kept reading my Bible, things would get better. But they didn’t.

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Loosening My Grip

I love travelling, as I write this I’m sitting in ‘Jardin Majorelle’, Marrakech. I’ve spent the last three days travelling through the Atlas Mountains to the Sahara Desert. In the mountains we saw the snow and threw some snowballs, before travelling to some traditional Berber villages and drinking copious amounts of tea. We then travelled to the desert (frequently stopping along the bumpy roads for cigarette breaks, chicken tagine and more tea), took a camel two hour camel ride from Merzouga into the Sahara and settled to camp for the night before heading back to Marrakech the next morning.

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Ends and Beginnings

As I mentioned in my previous post, in the last couple of years I’ve been on a journey of deconstructing my faith. The ways I looked at the world, the ways I understood my faith, God, religion and what that meant for me have been totally ripped apart. Safe to say it has been, and still is, extremely painful. The glass box shattered, my foundations were gone, in many ways the faith I had grown up with was dead.

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