The most likely explanation is that someone is describing a sense of unease and linking that unease to whatever they define as faith. A crisis situation only really seems to exist when an almost existential crisis occurs, one that threatens life and limb. If it’s less acute than that, can we still call it a crisis? Or is it simply that the notions of faith someone holds collide with reality? Has reality then triggered a crisis for those notions of faith? And how sound is that faith, in that case?

What faith actually is for someone is usually determined by the assumptions they hold about the subject. One person sees faith as belonging to a church; another is convinced that faith is primarily one’s own decision to turn to God and thereby “secure” one’s own salvation. Yet another sees faith as a life orientation, carried by Christ and directed toward God’s purposes. The important question here isn’t what is absolutely true, but what faith means for you, so that a crisis of faith can actually be described. Where, exactly, does the crisis take place, and why?

To express what one means, there’s no getting around being more precise. It doesn’t help if the word is treated merely as a screen onto which any arbitrary challenge can be projected—for instance, not knowing whether you passed a school exam and therefore being in a “crisis of faith.” Or not seeing how you’ll pay next month’s rent, and calling that a crisis of faith because the money isn’t in the account.

Both examples tell me something about the expectations someone holds. What’s really at stake are notions of faith that go unfulfilled. In that case, what we may have is merely a crisis of expectation, not a crisis of faith.

If someone pictures God as a kindly uncle who grants wishes, a supposed crisis of faith arises whenever wishes go unfulfilled. That’s not a sober view. But when people say, in all earnestness, that faith “has to deliver something”—that it should bring about “this or that”—then they’ve fallen prey to a prosperity gospel, a belief in miracles, or magical thinking. Such ideas have nothing to do with faith itself. The God the Bible describes is not a wish-granter, not a “genie in a bottle.”

It’s precisely these kinds of faith assumptions and notions that can actually lead to deep crises, once people discover that their notions don’t hold up in reality. That’s the point at which one would need to question the theology that leads to the crisis, along with the notions derived from it.

There’s a widespread notion that “God is always the same” and therefore “must always act the same way.” That notion is a projection. The Bible never speaks in these terms. Read the Bible with curiosity, and while God is indeed spoken of throughout, he doesn’t appear the same way at every point in time. That’s also held against him whenever people say things like: “the God of the Old Testament is vengeful” or “the God of the New Testament is pure love.” Neither is true.

Someone else concludes that the Bible is contradictory precisely for this reason. But that, too, is a misreading, because it misinterprets what the Bible’s validity actually consists of. The assumption being made (a presupposition) is that everything must be true at the same time. The Bible itself never says that. So this isn’t a claim the Bible makes — it’s an interpretation.
One could equally recognize that the Bible describes a development, and that God conveys different impressions within it. Those impressions depend on their respective context. That’s not relativizing — it’s an honest observation. The idea that God is always the same is no blanket excuse for failing to develop a sound theology.

What does the Bible itself call this?

“You are my witnesses, declares Yahweh, and my servant whom I have chosen, that you may know and believe me and understand that I am he. Before me no god was formed, nor shall there be any after me.”
Isa 43:10

The description “God” is defined here as “that I am he. Before me no god was formed, nor shall there be any after me.” That doesn’t mean God is “therefore” now fulfilling your wishes or mine, healing everyone, or performing other wonderful acts. Not a word of that appears here. Whoever draws such conclusions won’t find them in this text. He is the same because he is unique. In this sense, no god existed before him or will exist after him. Pay attention to what the text actually says.

“Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers, I do not want you to be uninformed. … Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone.”
1 Cor 12:1-6

This passage, too, isn’t about God being a wish-fulfiller because he’s supposedly always the same. Paul is writing here about spiritual gifts as they manifested in the chaotic community in Corinth. Paul makes clear that although the gifts vary, the same God stands behind all of them.

There’s a further point: the development sketched out in the Bible is itself always also an interpretation. One assumption is that everything speaks of the same thing, and that this is therefore the truth. But one could equally recognize that there are differences within the text—differences one can paper over, but not always explain. Take the differences between the Bible’s first two chapters, for instance. Are there two creation accounts? They emphasize entirely different themes. Is that a supplement (an interpretation!), or are they two separate accounts (and every indication of difference is likewise an assumption!)? Such things call for caution in interpretation because no one was there.

Anyone who feels they’re in a crisis should take that feeling seriously. There’s a further task here, one that can be pursued alone or with the help of others. It concerns two things:

1. What triggered the feeling of a crisis?
2. What assumptions made that feeling possible?

Assumptions matter enormously. They often determine whether and how a discrepancy with reality arises. If faith is expected to provide endless security, and something unexpected happens, that can throw a person off balance. That’s not a crisis—it’s the reality of this world, against which a notion of faith shatters. We don’t have things under control; we don’t govern this world, and we may simply be offloading that wish onto God. Is it his job to keep everyone safe and secure?

Whether someone falls into a crisis or instead remains resilient depends on their own understanding and their own attitude. Of course, extreme situations can have real consequences. Illness, the loss of a loved one, bullying at work, and many other things can lead to a genuine crisis. There are existential challenges, both financial and personal. That belongs to our reality. Whether we describe them as a “crisis of faith” depends on our own notions.

Whether someone falls into a crisis or instead remains resilient depends on their own understanding and their own attitude.

Of course, there are also genuine crises of faith, in which someone asks what, in their faith, actually holds up. That’s a legitimate question—but it can equally be seen as a reaction within a series of notions. In that case, the crisis is a symptom of a discrepancy, not in God, but in one’s own expectations.

What I wish for now is that my notions of faith be harmonizing with reality. What I strive for, as a human being and as a believer, is this: congruence in thinking, believing, and acting. That’s a wish, an orientation. Whenever one of these three comes under pressure from the other two, I need to reconsider the relationship and the function involved. If, for instance, my notions of faith can only flourish outside of reality, I don’t necessarily need to discard them—but I should recognize that they stand outside reality. That doesn’t make them untrue, but it means they serve a different purpose. What purpose is that?

Human beings are complex creatures. We can imagine things that lie outside visible reality. We speak of spirit, of love, of God—none of which we can see. Not even in the visible world is everything visible. This isn’t about pitting the visible against the invisible or setting faith against a materialistic world. Both belong to our world and to our experience. Striving for congruence is what we can attempt. Faith belongs to that effort—meaning the function faith serves, more than any particular set of conclusions and notions.

If we want to work through crises, it’s certainly about the feeling of uncertainty. But it’s also about reality and the internalized notions we hold about this world, faith among them. When things simply don’t fit together, that can be perceived as a crisis. But what if this feeling only marks a discrepancy in expectations?

More often, though, I’ve also heard people who are deeply unsettled speak of a crisis of faith when their notions collide with reality. Notions and reality don’t line up. That’s an entirely different challenge—one concerning those internalized notions. Reality is the ultimate test for the faith one holds.
Reality is the ultimate test for the faith one holds.

There are two possible ways of handling a challenge like this:

• Eyes shut, and push through.
• Eyes open, and push through.

Imagine something doesn’t work out the way you’d hoped. How do you deal with that? Which is your preferred approach? Why? Where do your resources lie?

Correcting one’s own notions can do a lot of good. That requires, however, that one examine one’s own assumptions. If you are eager to explore your own perspective and discover where you might need to look more closely, you can divide your own understanding into three areas. Three things belong together: worldview, view of humanity, and view of God. They condition one another. Whoever redefines one of these also changes the other two components. More on this on the following page:

There’s no one-size-fits-all recipe for working through a crisis. Neither “drink some tea and wait it out” nor “just pray a bit more and God will sort it out” comes with a guarantee of success. Recognizing that, however, isn’t a given. Shouldn’t we pray, and doesn’t God respond? Or does he not? Black or white?

The trouble with a guarantee of success is that there’s nowhere to claim it. There’s no complaints office for unanswered prayers. Usually two things happen at once: on the one hand, people are urged to pray; on the other, God is supposed to be responsible for every genuine fulfillment. In the worst case—and this happens more often than one might think—people are told that a lack of fulfillment stems from a lack of faith. In plain terms, whether God answers a prayer depends on your effort. With ideas like that, prayer or faith becomes a currency offered to God as part of a deal. It’s a payment, an attempt to bribe God.

There’s no complaints office for unanswered prayers.

If prayer is thought of as a “method for moving God,” it’s bound to fail miserably. It should also be said that treating prayer as a method closely resembles magical thinking. If prayers and wishes go unfulfilled, that’s no reason for a crisis of faith—but it is a strong hint to critically re-examine one’s own notions. Anyone who thinks God depends on our prayers before he can act at all does not have a God worthy of the name.

Examining one’s own assumptions, upon noticing that they don’t hold up in practice, creates a unique opportunity to improve one’s own notions. Whoever examines themselves self-critically can learn something in the process.

Crises of faith can also arise in another way—through the apparent success of other Christians, which leads someone to start doubting themselves, their trust in God, and the soundness of their own notions. This can even happen through the pastor when he announces from the pulpit all the answered prayers Jesus or God has granted over the past week. Full of pride and confidence, the wonderful things that have happened are reported.

As a rule, these are everyday accounts that can just as easily be explained by projection. Imagine someone reporting that God answered “this or that”: isn’t that an interpretation? Nothing, after all, comes stamped with a sender’s name. Nothing allows us to conclude that this must be God’s doing. So it’s up to the individual to interpret it that way. That’s basically fine, since it’s a person’s own decision about their own understanding. But if someone declares this to be the only, supposedly correct way to believe, they’re standing on thin ice. It isn’t always presented as a pattern for others to follow. But when community leaders present it that way, it comes with the weight of authority. Many then take it as a standard for themselves, sometimes with catastrophic consequences.

Here’s the delicate side of it: anyone who constantly interprets things this way works their own faith up into something that’s evidently carried by experiences of success. Is that faith—or rather a sign of insecurity? And when someone wants to establish this as a standard for others, is that manipulation or a search for external approval?

I’ve seen this happen. There’s a Christian culture that thrives on such “testimonies.” They hype a certain understanding. I put the word in quotation marks because I think they’re more likely projections of the human mind.

Gratitude, however, belongs in a different category than experiences of success in which someone supposedly moved God’s hand through their own faith and prayer. The very same experiences occur, but they’re classified differently: sometimes as a sign of successful faith, sometimes simply with gratitude.

At the same time, I’ve also seen people shake their heads and say that faith doesn’t work that way for them. They’re right! I’ve seen how successful Christians unsettle others, how some pastors, preachers, and teachers lead people directly into crisis. That’s not funny. It fosters an attitude in which faith is supposed to look exactly the way this or that person holds it up to be. What that reminds me of, more than anything, is manipulation and misdirection.

Can it? Yes. There can be other starting points for one’s own understanding and one’s own notions of faith—ones not defined by special effects. Here are a few pointers:

• Being grateful
  “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.” (Phil 4:6). “First, I thank my God” (Rom 1:8). “I give thanks always.” (1 Cor 1:4). “Rejoice always! Pray without ceasing! Give thanks in all circumstances! For this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thess 5:16-18).
• God builds up
  “And now I commend you to God and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up.” (Acts 20:32)
• Grace
  “Assuming that you have heard of the stewardship of God’s grace that was given to me for you.” (Eph 3:2). “Called in the grace of Christ” (Gal 1:6).

Whoever builds their life on God’s grace and learns to give thanks for everything won’t so easily fall into crisis again. Grace is the foundation. Giving thanks is its logical consequence. Whoever understands this doesn’t build their life on special effects, special insights, or supposed experiences of success. It also requires no exhausting projections of things that aren’t actually happening. There may be no extraordinary miracles—and one no longer needs a belief in miracles either.

But one can rely firmly on what has actually been promised:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds, as in a fortress, in Christ Jesus.”
Phil 4:6-7

Peace is the result—specifically, the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding. It guards hearts and minds. They are as secure as in a fortress, in Christ Jesus. No special effects, no text message from heaven, no ecstatic or miraculous answers to prayer—just the peace of God. It’s promised to us, it holds, and it comes after grace.

• Are you currently going through a crisis of faith?
• If so, have these reflections helped you?
• If grace were the foundation of your faith, would that put your life more at ease? Why (not)?
• Find other building blocks of a sound faith.
• Look up the words “give thanks,” “thanksgiving,” and similar terms in the New Testament. What attitude of faith do you discover there?