ASSIGNMENT 1 | FORUM QUESTION | THE SELF

In your own faith/spiritual life, how have you dealt with crises of faith and/or crises of meaning?

I have turned to multiple practices and sources of comfort and meaning. 

I look to scripture and find within it many stories of people who experience crisis and who feel separated/abandoned by God. These help me to understand that suffering is part of being human. They help me feel connected to others throughout history, to see myself as part of the human family. I am not alone. 

I go to meditation and prayer. Finding solace in stepping away from the clamor of the world and reawakening to the small voice within.

I look to my friends and faith community for help and council.

I go to the great outdoors, finding God in the wonder of the natural world.  

Shiree Dyson

In your own faith/spiritual life, how have you dealt with crises of faith and/or crises of meaning?

My crisis of faith was challenged from a young age because I was exposed to other religious practices and belief systems by way of the school I attended and my family’s faith and practice. For me God was split. In the back of my mind, it never gelled for me that there was only one true word and one true way, or true path. It was because of that contradiction early on; I later explored several religious/spiritual paths over the years. The crisis of faith I experienced was not just about finding the right tradition; it was about trust. Where can I be the fullest expression of myself.

This was me questioning whether spirit encountered across traditions was the same spirit. I believe yes, different names and points of entry but it’s all about Spirit, God, a Higher Being and honoring it as such. Now, I have come full circle and integrated the multiple influences over the years as a practice to be maintained.

M. Cross

Christian History & Social Change

Bernard Schlager, PhD

Assignment 1 - The Self

I can honestly say that in my walk with the Lord, I've never had a crisis of faith. I have not doubted the Bible nor the voice of the Lord.  My parents taught us about our Catholic faith which always had a cloak of mystery. Some things remained unexplained. Nevertheless, this is where my walk with the Lord began.

In college, I was introduced to a Savior who was personal and up close. I had wonderful friends who broke things down in the Bible so I had both reason and understanding.

I can't say it was a crisis; rather, it was growth, that came with aligning 'self' with God's will. It can still be a struggle, but I've learned to trust Him.

Rev. CJ

28 November 2025

 In your own faith/spiritual life, how have you dealt with crises of faith and/or crises of meaning?

My response to crisis is to trust my instincts and seek safety in my woundedness. As a child and young adult, this meant leaving my family's church and religious community in order to find meaning for myself. I learned that the authoritarian churches of my ancestors were the sources of not only my own pain, but also that of my ancestors--all of us had given away little parts of who we are in order to fit into the violent narrative of conformity, of white supremacy, Christian hegemony, Zionism, and nationalism. We learned to hide the "broken" and "sinful" parts of who we are, the instances of violence & traumatized responses and recite theologies that sought to gloss over the actions of harm-doers and internalize blame and shame for those who were hurt. At a young age, I couldn't articulate all these lessons passed down and enacted upon me as a poor, queer & trans person, but I felt them in my very bones, which is why I learned to trust my intuition.

In many cultures and worldviews, trans(cendent/-gender)/gender-nonconforming/queer peoples have been considered sacred, not for our woundedness and the harm we have inherited, but for our ability to go beyond dogma and normalized systems of harm, our innate gifts to look beyond the material world and to touch and embody that which is beyond conventional understanding. Part of my decolonial journey has led me to think deeply about who I am, who my ancestors were and could have been, and living those dreams of what could be in my own life.

The Buddhadharma 仏法 buppou has helped liberate me in many ways, but there is always more work to do. Buddhist institutions and doctrines are riddled with their own problems of patriarchy and institutional power, and so I still struggle with many of the same normalized forms of violence I encountered as someone born into Christianity. Those forms of violence still live on in my own thinking and behavior, and at the same time, I seek to unlearn them and move toward mutual liberation. My ancestors depend on it, and these days, while crisis of meaning/faith unfold frequently, I return to the practice of unlearning oppression and learning manifestations of liberation through decolonizing, through abolition, and through dreaming what freedom might look like for me, my ancestors, and for my communities.

Crisis is an opportunity to learn, to die, to be reborn, and to reorient myself, my values, and my practice.

I do not have a lot of experience with crises of faith, but in thinking about this assignment one situation did come to me, where I had to make a decision, had to decide whether to take on a responsibility or let it pass. It was not at all clear what the right decision was, and I took time to sit with the matter without think about it too much. I tried to just let it be, in the background, without analyzing too much, trusting that with time the right action would become more clear. I also talked about it with my pastor, and did some writing about it. Both of these actions served to declutter my mind. Neither led to a definitive answer. What was new in this approach, for me, was taking a beat, waiting, pausing, and trusting that at some point the path would become clear. I suppose that pause could be seen as prayer, just creating space for wisdom to sneak in.

Clark Kellogg

Christian History, Prof.  Bernard Schlager, Ph. D.

Assignment 1, November 29, 2025

Reflection on the “Questions”

My journey to being a “functional religious person” began with avoiding church. I was an adult with children when we began to seriously attend Riverside Church in New York. Moving to Berkeley in 1994 was the beginning of my opening up to something more than good attendance and fellowship at Epworth United Methodist Church. I frame my answer to the reflection question within the church because my life didn’t include a context for a crisis of faith or crisis of meaning in Christian terms until I was at least 45 years old.

My journey is so much different than Sojourner Truth’s that comparisons are hard to come by. I’ve had crisis of faith in myself and crisis of life’s meaning throughout my life. My crises of Christian faith have come in the last two decades. One was around my mother’s death, and one was dealing with my wife having Parkinson’s disease. In both I found myself deepening my faith to create space to understand and accept my grief, sorrow and anger. These weren’t impulses to move away from faithfulness or questioning God’s existence. Rather, I questioned the depth of my own faith and how I might find my way through the powerful emotions I was feeling. Faith has been a salve for deep wounds and pain.

Crisis of meaning? Yes, continuously. My spiritual life seems more driven by curiosity than by certainty. My relationship with God is evolving as my faith evolves. I admire those people who seem so certain about God’s power and Grace. I covet such certainty and trust. As I’ve grown older, I’ve become less needy of “proof,” and this has opened new pathways of understanding and acceptance of God and the power of faith.

I wouldn’t say that I have “dealt” with these crises in any systematic or even particularly conscious way. I’ve found ways of praying more authentically. I’ve found ways to be still and silent. I listen with contentment. I wait.

In your own faith/spiritual life, how have you dealt with crises of faith and/or crises of meaning?

I would not describe my spiritual experience / journey as a crisis of faith, because I see it as the necessary path that I needed to take to arrive at a place in my faith that best supports my personal journey and understanding of God. As a child I was always curious about the subject of God and why individuals in my family had such devoted faith and reverence for an entity that could not be seen or heard. They clung to the scriptures in the Bible and the Sunday sermons as if their lives depended on it. This ignited a curiosity in me that made me want to know more. So, from an early age I began to be learn more about God and The Word. During the journey I witnessed what I would consider discrepancies in the teaching of the Bible from the ministers of the different churches I attended. It felt, from my point of view, as though they were manipulating “The Word” to fit their individual agendas.  I could have been wrong in my interpretation, but that is what it felt like to me at the time. It was something about how the individual ministers delivered their sermons that they did not sit right with. However, the curiosity remained which made me want to continue the spiritual journey.

As I matured, I began to gain a better understanding of the Bible scriptures and stories. This helped me to decern how the individual ministers crafted their sermons to fit the moment. However, it was still something about the method of delivery/teaching that did not completely resonate with me. Something about it did not feel authentic to my soul. It was not until I was exposed to other spiritual philosophies that helped me make better sense of it all. This helped me to better understand and reinterpret the previous lessons, scriptures, and sermons in a way they had been originally taught. It was at that time that I was able to utilize the teachings in a constructive manner and easily apply them to my daily life. This is why I was meant to travel the path that was taken to arrive at a place that allows me to be at peace, solitude, and be open to whatever else comes my way.  For this reason, I am deeply grateful. 

R. Lomax

Christian History and Social Change

Lesson 1

In your own faith/spiritual life, how have you dealt with crises of faith and/or crises of meaning?

In my own life there have been times when I didn’t understand why a particular situation was unfolding or even why it was happening at all. I guess I would say my faith was shaken for a period of time in my youth and young adult days. I had to learn that faith in God did not mean that everything would go my way, but I realized having faith in God’s plan, even though I didn’t know what it was, is trusting that he know’s best. Although things were not as I wished, God was still taking care of me in other ways. Once I viewed my situation as an opportunity to share with others that trusting God to take care of everything, including the things I hadn’t thought of brings peace of mind. 

I also went through a time of not being sure of what I was meant to do. I spent many years just blending in, not wanting to stick out, or be called on to do anything in church or in ministry. I let fear keep me from growing spiritually because I was so concerned about what others would think. When I finally embraced my call to the ministry, allowing myself to be used by God in the way he sees fit, it has been the most liberating time in my life. I face what a lot of people would consider a crisis right now, but my faith in God and his plan for my life is not in the least bit shaken.

In your own faith/spiritual life, how have you dealt with crises of faith and/or crises of meaning?

I don't know if there is one way that I have handled crises of faith or meaning. As a person who is a communicator, one way that I have navigated this is through reaching out to others in my community to connect. I have found not isolating to be one of the best things that I can do in a time of crisis. The ability to talk to a person who is not in crisis and is able to share a broader or different view is invaluable.

Having a regular spiritual practice is also pivotal as it allows for having time for spiritual reflection built into your daily routine. This is helpful because it increases the chances of you not being separated from other people of faith or the deepest lessons of your spiritual tradition in times of crisis.

And finally, I have found that trying to keep an open heart is another way to make it through crises. Sometimes I don't have the answer or know how to make it through a situation, but if I have an open heart I can receive answers and be receptive to being spiritually-

led.

Amanda Weaver

Christian History & Social Change

Lesson 1: Reflection

I’ve fortunately not had to deal with many situations that would qualify as a crisis of faith or meaning. More often, I experience what I think of as a temporary distancing of my faith; these are times when church doesn’t seem to fit, for lack of a better description, and they usually come before or after a period of personal growth. I used to deal with these periods by simply disengaging from my faith; I would stop going to church, reading scripture (or anything related), and praying. Eventually, something would nudge me to pick up the Bible or attend a service, and I would come away with meanings and connections that I hadn’t seen before. I am learning to lean more into community during these times. Instead of disconnecting, I lean into prayer, and I am learning to listen for an answer instead of trying to make up the full conversation.

Deborah Anderson

Crises-Resolution Reflection

Throughout my life, crisis has often arrived just when I thought stability was within reach. One of the most painful moments came when I unexpectedly lost custody of my young daughters—an experience no one, including the courts, saw coming. That decision shattered my world and threatened my identity as a mother. Yet when I realized I could not change the ruling, I chose to embrace the role I still had. I became the best non-custodial mother I could be, pouring love into every moment we shared and supporting other mothers who faced similar heartbreak. Through that crisis, I discovered not only my own strength, but also a fierce, resilient form of motherhood that no court could take away.

Years later, I experienced a different kind of loss: my call to ministry. Through miscommunication and misunderstanding, I was removed from the ELCA roster. I stepped away from ministry entirely, carrying anger, grief, and disappointment into a new career in social work. Over time, through healing and the quiet persistence of the Holy Spirit, I realized that God’s call had never left me. I applied for reinstatement—and after twenty years away, I was recently welcomed back into ordained ministry. Both of these crises taught me that God’s grace does not spare us from breaking, but meets us in the very places we feel most powerless. Like Sojourner Truth, who refused to let injustice define her worth, I learned to stand in my identity even when others questioned it. In each resolution, I found not a return to what was, but a deeper strength and compassion shaping who I am today.

Leonard Bailey

11/28/25

The Self in the History of Christianity and Social Change

ASSIGNMENT 1 | FORUM QUESTION | THE SELF

How I’ve Dealt with Crises of Faith or Meaning

Honestly, my faith journey hasn’t been a straight line. It’s more like a winding road with moments where I’ve questioned everything — from God’s presence to my own purpose. I think the biggest crises of meaning for me have shown up in those quiet, heavy moments where I felt like my life didn’t match the promises I heard growing up in church.

There were times I looked around and saw injustice, pain, or just plain struggle, and I couldn’t help but think, “Where is God in all this?” Especially when I worked so hard and still felt stuck — academically, financially, spiritually. It’s easy to say “God’s got me,” but sometimes I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel seen.

But what I’ve learned — and what Sojourner Truth’s story reminded me of — is that faith doesn’t always feel good, and it definitely doesn’t always make sense in the moment. She went through hell and still found a way to trust that her voice, her life, her presence mattered. That’s powerful.

In my own life, I’ve learned to sit with doubt instead of running from it. I’ve found God in hard conversations, in long walks when I couldn’t pray, in music, in quiet moments of reflection, and in the strength of my ancestors — people who had far less freedom and yet found hope anyway.

I think crisis doesn’t mean the end of faith — sometimes it’s the very thing that grows it. What grounds me now isn’t the belief that everything will be easy, but the belief that even in confusion, I’m not alone. That’s faith to me — not certainty, but connection. And it’s enough to keep going.

In my role, I don’t have personal faith, spirituality, or lived experiences. But I can share patterns that many people across spiritual traditions, ministry, leadership, and personal growth communities describe when facing crises of faith or meaning.

A crisis of faith often begins when inherited beliefs, personal suffering, institutional disappointment, or unanswered questions no longer fit together cleanly. For many people, the turning point is realizing that doubt is not always the opposite of spirituality — sometimes it is part of spiritual maturity.

Common ways people navigate these crises include:

• Re-examining beliefs honestly rather than forcing certainty.
• Separating spirituality from disappointing institutions or individuals.
• Allowing grief, anger, or confusion to exist without shame.
• Returning to practices that ground them: prayer, meditation, music, service, journaling, nature, silence, or community care.
• Studying broader theological or philosophical perspectives, especially traditions that make room for questioning and complexity.
• Finding meaning through action and relationships, not only doctrine.

Many spiritual thinkers describe crises of meaning as moments of reconstruction rather than collapse. People sometimes come out with a more compassionate, less rigid understanding of themselves, humanity, and the sacred.

For someone in leadership or creative work, crises of meaning can also emerge from burnout, responsibility, isolation, or carrying other people’s expectations. In those cases, people often rediscover meaning by reconnecting with why they started their work in the first place — not the image, performance, or pressure around it, but the deeper purpose underneath.

One idea that appears across many traditions is that certainty is not always the goal. Sometimes integrity, honesty, compassion, and continued seeking become the deeper form of spirituality.