a gospel or a gospel.

It was the altar call that got me.

A missionary spoke at James River tonight. A missionary with a great story, and a great ability to tell it. As he spoke, I felt more alive than I've felt in some time, and more hopeful that my struggles in faith will somehow work out for God's glory, and my peace. I felt...great.

By the time we got to the altar call, I felt almost strong again. Almost ready to face the mistakes I've been making, to go back to God and allow Him to work. Ready to acknowledge how my denial of His love has been affecting my ability to love others.

Then, the altar. The missionary had asked people to come forward to pray if they were willing to sacrifice their own lives for the cause of Christ, and as I watched from up in production as they all streamed forward, I thought...I'd stay in my chair. Firstly, because I have a deathly fear of a crowded altar. Secondly because, as the missionary had spoken of martyrdom, I knew I didn't have that kind of faith. But as he called people forward, I realized why I don't.

It's because I don't believe. Not really. I mean, if you really believed that all people needed Christ, of course you'd lay down your life to bring others to Him. I don't. I find that to be a fuzzy no man's land of theological doubt. Whenever it comes up in my mind, I've ignored it. Because I don't want to think about it. Because I know the truth about my own mind and heart.

I think...but, Ash--you applied to seminary, and to work at a church, and you're doing your thesis on how better to engage people in the life of the church. You've done all of that sincerely. But each of those things is tied up in some other idol. I love learning. I love well-run organizations that help people right their lives. I love helping people right their lives. For me, it comes back to what it always was when I was liberal theologically--people. I like people. I like seeing their lives transformed. But can I say with certainty that I understand and believe that He died for me? That some metaphysical reality shifted as a result of that death? That ALL people need Christ to live?

I can't.

Here's the problem. I also cannot say that I think there's any hope without that story. Not just the story. The reality. I can't say that I think that we have the ability on our own to love people to rightness. Not with therapy, and not with kinds words, or kind deeds, and not ever with drugs or money, or our own sense of righteousness or grace.

So, on the one hand--I searched myself tonight and found no real belief in the Gospel. On the other, I found an absolute inability to accept any possibility aside from the Gospel.

What does that mean? What will happen to me? Is there hope?