What’s Wrong With Doubt, Anyway?

I have doubts.

There, I said it.

My husband and I spank our kids. Not often, but on occasion, and I often find myself wondering if it’s a good discipline tool or if I’m damaging them in some way.

I work—a lot. I have a job that requires time during the day and well into the evening. Not every evening, but enough of them. I work on weekends. I’m not away from my children completely, but then again I’m not present either.

My husband and I have recently relocated away from our family and the only home our three children have ever known, and I doubt, at times, that we made the right decision.

We find ourselves struggling financially and emotionally…and spiritually.

That’s right—big doubts spiritually. Was it God that brought us here—or simple circumstance?

How much control do we have over our own destiny and how much are God, the fates, karma, whatever—responsible for?

Last night I took my three little girlies trick-or-treating, and I have constant doubt about whether or not we should celebrate Halloween.

At times, I doubt the significance of all sorts of religious matters. And other times, I doubt the existence of God himself. What if this is all not real? What if I’m wrong about it all?

The problem with doubt isn’t doubt itself—it’s the refusal of so many to acknowledge it—to own it.

So here I am, owning my doubt. Some days it seems to be drowning me, others I barely notice it. But it is mine, and it never goes away.

Maybe if a few more of us would give voice to our doubts we would find strength in one another, or at least find discourse. A place we could bring our doubts and ponder them, maybe even put a few to rest.

What do you doubt? Really…I want to know.


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