Isobel Kuhn - By Searching: My Journey Through Doubt Into Faith

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THE QUESTION THAT PIERCED THE MIST

Canst thou by searching find out God?Job 11:7

THE ANSWER

Ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.Jer. 29:13

Jesus said unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. John 14:6

Search the Scriptures they are they which testify of me.John 5:39

If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God.John 7:17

To every man there openeth

A way, and ways, and a way.

And the high soul climbs the high way,

And the low soul gropes the low.

And in between on the misty flats

The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth

A high way and a low

And every man decideth the way his soul shall go

O F COURSE no one in this enlightened age believes any more in the myths of Genesis and But here Dr. Sedgewick paused in his lecture as if a second thought had occurred. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, Well, maybe I had better test it out, before being so dogmatic. Facing the large freshman class, who were hanging on his words, and pulling his face into gravity, he asked: Is there anyone here who believes there is a Heaven and a Hell? Who believes that the story of Genesis is true? Please raise your hand. He waited for a response.

Up went my hand as bravely as I could muster courage. I also looked around to see if I had a comrade in my stand. Only one other hand was up, in all that big group of perhaps a hundred students. Dr. Sedgewick smiled, then, as if sympathetic with our embarrassment, he conceded: Oh, you just believe that because your papa and mama told you so. He then proceeded with his lecture, assuming once and for all that no thinking human being believed the Bible any more.

Brought up in an earnest Presbyterian home (my grandfather was a Presbyterian minister and my father an ardent lay preacher) I had been carefully coached in the refutations of modernism before my parents had allowed me to enter the university. If it had been a case of arguing the claims of modernism versus fundamentalism, I do not think I would have been shattered in my faith. But there was no argument. There was just the pitying sneer, Oh, you just believe that because your papa and your mama told you so, and then the confident assumption that no persons nowadays who thought for themselves, who were scientific in their approach to life, believed that old story any more.

On the way home from class I faced the charge honestly. Why did I believe the Bible? The Genesis explanation of lifes origin? Why did I believe in Heaven and Hell?

It was because I had been taught it by my parents and church from the hour I could understand anything. Was that reason enough for accepting it? No, I agreed with Dr. Sedgewick that it was not a sufficient basis to build my life upon. We had experienced remarkable answers to prayer in our family lifedidnt that prove the existence of God? But my psychology course taught that mind had a powerful effect over matter. If I had not been so gullible, maybe I could have seen a natural explanation. Our twentieth century believed only when there was a test and a proof. We were scientific in our investigations; we did not swallow the superstitions of our ancestors just because they were handed to us.

Dr. Sedgewick, Professor of the English Department in our university, was an ardent follower of Matthew Arnolds sweetness and light philosophy, and of Thomas Hardys materialism. Yet he was so apparently patient and kind toward us whom he felt were still bound by our parents old-fashioned thinking that he won our affection and respect.

At the end of my walk home, I came to the conclusion that I would henceforth accept no theories of life which I had not proved personally. And, quite ignorant of where that attitude would lead me, I had unconsciously stepped off the High Way where man walks with his face lifted Godward and the pure, piney scents of the Heights call him upward, on to The Misty Flats. The in-between level place of easy-goingnothing very good attempted, yet nothing bad eitherwhere men walk in the mist, telling each other that no one can see these things clearly. The Misty Flats where the in-betweeners drift to and fro life has no end but amusement and no purpose where the herd drift with the strongest pull and there is no reason for opposing anything. Therefore they had a kind of peace and a mutual link which they call tolerance.

I did not know that I had stepped down to The Misty Flats. I was just conscious of a sudden pleasant freedom from old duties. If there was no God, why bother to go to church on Sunday, for instance? Why not use Sunday to catch up on sleep, so that one could dance half the night away several times during the week?

Again, if the Bible was but a record of myths and old-fashioned ideas, why read it every morning? That took time and it was much easier to sleep until the very last moment, getting up just in time for the first class at college. Prayer, too, became sillytalking to someone who maybe did not exist.

I would not call myself an atheist because, well, there were those childhood answers to prayer still to be accounted for. But I called myself an agnosticI frankly did not know if there was a God or not. It was a popular thing to be on The Misty Flats: you had plenty of company. And one was respected as being modern and intelligent to question the old faiths. Life drifted along so pleasantlyfor a while.

My home training still had an effect upon me. Jesus Christ, now seen blurred in the mists which denied His Godhead, is an acknowledged historical character. And His name was still an ointment poured forth to me. He was like a perfume which haunts and calls so that one stops, lifts ones head and drinks it in wistfully. His name was the sweetest melody I knew and it never failed to stir my heart, even though I had ceased to seek Him. His purity and holiness made me hate besmirching things.