I Lack the Love of God: Some Notes on a Personal Struggle and Doubt
My lips tremble and mouth waters. I say to myself, "Let us finish what has begun in our hearts."
I am about to write an article following up my telling of the gospel, which can be found here. Both, but especially this upcoming article, have been very painful to write, and I want to open this with a public confession to my readers: the love within me is growing cold as I realize who my neighbors really are. I write this while begging God to restore my love and patience, and would appreciate any prayer my readers can spare for me. This entry will be an attempt to focus my mind, and yours, on the absolute centrality of love and the love of enemies. I am unworthy to do so.
I increasingly desire action, not words. Numerous people are suffering; an increasingly fascistic populace is transforming the American government into not only a police state, but a militarized police state; thousands are being rounded up and disappeared; free speech is nearly dead; right-wing, racist militia and hate groups are gaining strength in the U.S. The judiciary is essentially helpless, and no one seems to wish to enforce the law, at least not for the betterment of humanity. The violence of the 20th c. is incomplete; the great wars are unfinished in our hearts, their causes lurk just beneath the liberal veneer of the 21st c. My conscience is shattered and a terrible static electricity hums through my skull. It is unbearable, and I am not even one of those being targeted. What can words accomplish?
Many of my fellow "Christians," even my fellow Orthodox, cheer for the oppressors of mankind. To wish harm and vengeful suffering on the wicked is contrary to the love of God, but these supposed followers of Christ are also mocking the suffering of the innocent (or those we should presume are innocent). Their jeering fills my mind as the earth slides further towards hell.
Would the God of love make excuses for bombing civilians in Gaza? Would He twist Himself into knots to justify the rounding up of migrants into overcrowded and unaccountable prisons? Would He command us to punish our enemies for the sake of retribution? Would He command us to bring little children, without their parents or a lawyer, before a judge for a deportation trial? Would He prioritize His own autonomy and freedom over the lives of others (be they born or unborn)? Would He ask His faithful to prioritize the maximal flow of money and goods ("the economy") over the well being of the rest of creation? Answering "yes" to any of these would be so outlandish and contrary to the gospel I described previously that, in my mind, such morally obtuse views are worse than heresy. And yet I am in the minority in my religious communities.
How can I stand and pretend to worship the God of love with those who craft elaborate apologia for evil? Surely, someone is needed to preach either hellfire to scare us, or true love to soften us. But the Church, in my corner of the world, appears to sit idly by, teaching neither love nor hellfire, but mere symbology and metaphysical myth. It is as if the Catholic and Orthodox around me have become Protestants, simply with more complex ideas. "Believe in these myths, engage in these rituals, understand these symbols, and you will be saved!" These are not the goals of God. What is the use of our religion if inculcating unconditional and infinite love is not the goal? What is the use of Orthodox theology if it is not union with and imitation of the God of love? My faith is being challenged by the heinous character of many deeply involved in the Church.
Violent expressions of the evil within us seem inevitable if we do not purge ourselves of reactionary anger. As we draw nearer to violence, as we open ourselves to its possibility, the brutality of what might happen (and what has already happened) is becoming clearer. And yet, there is something appetizing about violence and its horrors. My lips tremble and mouth waters. I say to myself, "Let us finish the murder begun in our hearts. Let us make the spiritual alienation between us physical. No more pretending; let us never drink the wine nor eat the bread as one again."
I do not love my enemies, and am losing hope in the effectiveness of love. These are both core Christian teachings; they transcend and are more fundamental than any dogmas. They are the function, end, aim, purpose of Christ's ministry and incarnation. To doubt these is to doubt the foundations of Christianity in a way that cannot be overcome by intellectual investigation. Can minds change? Can our values be rewritten? In my experience so far, no... Those I love and trusted increasingly reveal themselves to be consumed with anger and hatred, and seem to be unreachable. I have developed a keener sense for the depravity of humanity, and the warmth in my heart may not survive. So what right do I have to preach to anyone about the God of love, and to declare His promises of victory? None. Pray for me, as I do my best to subjugate myself to Christ and consistently meditate on His loving nature.
I want you to know: your broken-hearted honesty is not a disqualification—it is a proof that Christ is alive within you.
The saints did not love the world because they found it lovable; they loved because they knew Christ’s love was stronger than its hatred. What you are feeling—the shattering, the sorrow, the unbearable ache for justice and true mercy—is not a sign of failure. It is the wound of God opening inside you. It is participation in the Cross.
In Desert and Fire, I often write that true love is not sentimental; it is crucified. It bleeds. It questions. It aches in the silence when easy answers have rotted away. And yet—and this is the miracle—it holds on. However frail, however trembling, it clings.
You are closer to Him than you think, because you are sharing in His agony for the world. The flame may seem like it is flickering out, but even a hidden ember is enough for resurrection. Christ does not ask you to save the world—only to stay with Him in the garden a little longer, even if it is in tears, even if it is in weariness and confusion.
Your cry matters. Your love, however battered, is still love. And the God you are fighting to believe in is even now fighting for you, more fiercely than you know.
Do not lose heart. You are not alone. I am praying for you today.
Hey man I wanted to let you know that I really appreciate this article, especially at this time. I feel that it is somewhat providential that I have come across it. I'm a young Orthodox Catechumen who hasn't been to liturgy in about five weeks because I was struck by a crisis of faith surrounding the exact same anguish, observing the multitudinous orgy of sinful omission, complicity, and complacency present within a Christianity that follows a culture more than it does Christ. The awareness of this phenomenon in not only American Christendom and not only in so-called "internet-Orthodoxy," but in the parish that is supposed to be a bastion of protection from the evangelical fundamentalism I was raised in has struck me deeply. I truly appreciate this article as I attempt to breathe through this tumultuous season.
I have no inborn insight whatsoever, nor qualifications, but if I may offer one piece of unwarranted and unsolicited advice from a person suffering according to a paradox akin to you own, there is something that I have found helpful. I actually was looking at your substack and found this article in particular whilst researching Dostoevsky. And amid my own love for art and my own lack of being some great social worker or person of agency--just a hapless 19 year-old playing Fire Emblem, reading, and whistling along to Blood on the Tracks for the ten millionth time--I've been thinking about the nature of Christian love and the calling to help the world when everything seems predestined towards darkness curling around and snuffing out the last torches placed alongside the pathways of life. And Dostoevsky has been my only consolation. The oft-cited remark, "beauty will save the world" is meaningful in a specific sense that is often overlooked. If we look at the total picture, life will always appear dismal and impossible to change. But it is in particularity that the efficacy of love is possible. It is a virtuous thing to think that one ought to hyper-emphasize every second of time so that it may be optimized for the maximum contribution towards social utility, but this is an inhuman relationship to the world. It is in relating to the world in particularity that we live for the beauty of the present and come to the aid of those given to us, and it is in this calling that we aid the whole. For however great it may be to aid society at large, there is a sense in which it is an even greater calling to help a single friend, to love a single person such that they might have joy and life. For the many are capable of helping society, and we ought to do our part, but there is a scarcity of those who can help particular persons, who can adore particular flowers, because only those with the proper proximity can aid them truly. That being said, we must focus on the whole story, and attempt to help society at large. But as individuals, we are only effective, and only happy, when we live for particularity, aiming to find and promote the beauty present within the little lilies of the field that belong especially to our garden. We save the world through the joy and love granted to us by the beauty of particulars. It is this that will redeem us, universally.
I don't know if that's helpful or coherent. But may God bless you
"Is it true, prince, that you once declared that ‘beauty would save the world’? Great Heaven! The prince says that beauty saves the world! And I declare that he only has such playful ideas because he’s in love! Gentlemen, the prince is in love. I guessed it the moment he came in. Don’t blush, prince; you make me sorry for you. What beauty saves the world?" - Ippolit