The title of this piece is not the thesis of Erin Hicks Moon’s book, “I’ve Got Questions,” a story of deconstruction or, as she puts it “having it out with God.” But it’s what I took away from the book. Burn it all down. Then look at what’s left, even if it’s just ashes. Consider what you want to replant or rebuild, what you want to do differently and what you want to walk away from forever Remember that fire heals, purifies, sanctifies—but don’t feel bad if in the process you douse it with gasoline and throw a match over your shoulder as you walk away in a perfect slo-mo action movie moment, rage fueling every step.

I’ve been a fan of the author for years; Erin is the host of Faith Adjacent, a podcast I’ve listened since it was called The Bible Binge and the co-hosts retold stories from the Bible, casting celebrities as characters and being as irreverently loving with the scriptures as I was becoming in my own study. (Some of my favorites: Winona Ryder as Miriam, Viola Davis as Mary the mother of Jesus, Danai Gurira as Queen Vashti, Jon Hamm as Xerxes—really all of Season 8, the season of Esther, is gold; Chris Evans as Adam, Selena Gomez as the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Listen to this podcast.)

Because of this podcast, I knew a little about Erin’s faith journey (drink*). I knew she’d been evangelical, I knew she’d been Episcopalian. When I picked up this book, I didn’t know what she considered herself. I finished the book. I still couldn’t tell you what she considers herself. And that spoke to me because I don’t know what I consider myself.

As promised: questions

Erin starts with a list of questions that look a lot like mine. Here are a few:

• Why does an institution that claims freedom so frequently yoke its members with unnecessary burdens?
• Why is there cognitive dissonance between what we read in the Gospels and the way our faith is lived out?
• Why does Christianity have a reputation for hatred, bigotry, and hidden abuse?
• What do you do when the church you love pretends not to notice when the vulnerable are abused?
• What do you do when the church is complicit in the abuse?
• How do you untangle the knots of grief, anger, and pain in a place that is supposed to bear the fruit of joy, peace, and kindness? (p. 17-18)

I don’t need to explain why those questions stood out to me. Although Erin doesn’t answer these questions, she offers herself as an example that buoys the journey (drink) of so many people looking at the church that they loved and sacrificed for, the faith that carried them through hard times, the doubts they’ve always been able, until now, to place to the side. So many people, especially women, are looking at the religious beliefs they have been taught and saying, “This is not working.” And they are asking why. They are exploring what will work. And often, this puts them at odds with their churches and the men who run them.

In this book, Erin talks about grief and the importance of lament. She writes that grief can be a profound gift: “It’s the way we signal to ourselves and other people: This means something to me, and I am bereft without it” (p. 71). Grieve for it—the lost faith, the lost certainty. The last time I went to Relief Society, I remember realizing how much I missed that certain knowledge that it was all true. I would never go back to that certainty; it was illusory. But it was so much more comfortable. Grieve what you had.

Question. Doubt. Struggle. Wrestle.

The Bible is not filled with stories of people whose faith came easily. It is not filled with stories of people who were unafraid to challenge God. Erin talks about being the bearer of doubts (which is worth noting—you don’t have doubts. No, you are a majestic bearer of doubts, one strong enough to think and question everything you have been taught since before you can remember.) and how people around you, hopefully well-meaning people, suggest that you strengthen your faith. You do that by reading your scriptures and praying and going to church and fasting and ignoring-ignoring-ignoring those doubts and that cognitive dissonance and the voice that whispers, “but Jesus never said anything about gay people and he said we should be feeding the hungry, so why are we ignoring the hungry and going after the gay people?”

“Lobotomizing the part of yourself that is angry, hurt, or frustrated with God is not the answer,” Erin writes. “Beloved, you have a strong faith because you wrestle, not in spite of your wrestling. It is a gift. Don’t believe anything to the contrary” (p. 115).

‘Just because they say it, doesn’t make it so’

This is not an advice or a self-help book; it’s not a map for you to go on your deconstruction. What it felt like is a companion, a reminder that I’m not walking this path alone—that even though I’m the only one on my journey (drink), so many other people across all religions are spiritually walking with me. It’s a reminder that it’s OK to be angry—no, it’s a moral necessity to be angry when I realize I’ve been told not to trust myself or to ignore what I see or to question my worth because I don’t fit the mold.

The book offers a flashing red light that church is not God. That a belief system isn’t Jesus. That other people don’t get to tell me who God is. That no one has the right to tell me that God is not female or to deny access to God-She. That my relationship should always be with God, not with an organization.

It’s a good reminder that I could be wrong. In fact, I probably am, regularly, about a lot. And so are you, and so is everyone around us. That sounds scary, but it’s actually freeing. Knowing I can be wrong is an opportunity to experiment. Decades ago, when I was in Young Women, the theme one year was “Experiment upon the word.” Let’s do that!

The book circles back to what actually matters: Loving God. Loving your neighbor as yourself. Loving yourself. Why is that one so hard? Be good to yourself. Go easy on yourself when you mess up. Be better; don’t worry about being perfect. Trust yourself. Trust the God that you have come to know on your own, in the quiet places in your mind and heart where there are no outside voices drowning out what you say to God and what God says to you.

“They play keep-away with the keys to the kingdom, but the gates have always been unlocked” (p. 137).

“I’ve Got Questions: The Spiritual Practice of Having it Out with God,” published Feb. 4, is available on Bookshop.org and Baker Bookhouse (and lots of other booksellers too). Support local bookstores when you can!

*This is Erin’s joke.

Photo from www.erinhmoon.com

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