Hey, welcome to our first week of WTFaith?! This series of talks is not for people who have it all figured out. This is for the people who’ve sat in a church service, or listened to a religious conversation, or been at the end of themselves and thought, “God... are you even real?” “And if you are — why are you not helping?” If you’ve ever questioned faith, you’re not off-beat, you’re not broken, and you’re not a disappointment to God. You’re just… human. This series is called WTFaith? because sometimes that’s exactly how it feels. What the faith is going on right now?
I was sailing across the Atlantic, as you do, with a wife, three kids, and a cat and dog. It was night watch. The rest of the family was asleep. We had three days left on a two-week passage when a huge storm hit us a few hundred miles out from Barbados, with six-metre rollers smashing the back of the boat. We’d climb each wave at about 2 knots and then surf down them at 12 knots. It was getting so dangerous that I just whacked the boat on autopilot and went downstairs as I was worried about getting washed away.
I remember praying for God's help and then, as I was standing there praying, looking out to the waves at our stern, in the middle of a prayer for protection for my family, out of nowhere this random thought was like a grenade in my head: “What if none of this is real? What if I’ve spent my life following God, leading churches, giving money, believing that He is for us… what if I’ve been building my life on some lie? Am I just delusional?! Why the hell do I have my family and cat and dog in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?” I was supposed to be praying and be a person of faith, but I felt so alone.
Now, if you've ever felt that, even for a moment, I want you to hear this clearly: doubt doesn’t disqualify your faith. It can deepen it.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve been told the opposite. Someone has suggested to me that my doubt is undermining my faith. “If you had enough faith, you’d never question God.” “If you really trusted God, you wouldn’t be so worried right now.” “If you pray more, read more, believe harder… it’ll all make sense.”
Questioning can be scary, particularly for people who have been brought up in faith or in church circles for a long time. They can be afraid to question. Often people have been taught that questioning is akin to either rejecting or losing our faith.
So let’s smash that idea first! The best evidence against it is the Bible itself. The Bible is a story full of characters discovering God and asking great questions. At the heart of the entire Bible is Jesus on a cross, Himself crying out a question to God: “Why have you forsaken me?” And all the evidence you need — Jesus asked 307 questions in the Bible.
Our doubts lead us to ask questions, and questions are God’s way of getting rid of wrongheaded notions of spirituality and life — ways that help us catch a larger picture of God and ourselves.
But what happens when your best prayers don’t work? What happens when you reach the limit of your “faith”? What happens when your best friend won’t come to church because she likes most of it, loves the people and the music, but some big questions prevent her from going all in? Because when we don’t question, we’ve been taught to just grit our teeth… “The Bible says it, so that settles it. You should believe it too.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Don’t question God.”
That kind of thinking has put so many people off God. That kind of theology looks great on a bumper sticker, fridge magnet, or coffee cup — but take that theology, and your coffee cup that says ‘With God all things are possible,’ into a hospital room, quote that scripture, and see what response you get.
Over three weeks we’ll look at three questioning Bible characters. My hope is that their stories will deepen our faith. We’ll look at an Old Testament guy named Habakkuk, we’ll talk about Peter, and today we’ll talk about Thomas — sometimes nicknamed “Doubting Thomas.” He’s the one disciple who missed Jesus’ first post-resurrection appearance.
The others were like, “We’ve seen him! He’s alive!” and Thomas says, “Cool for you. But unless I see the scars, unless I touch his side, I can’t believe that.” And Jesus doesn’t freak out, doesn’t call him a failure, doesn’t ghost him for lack of faith. Instead — eight days later — Jesus shows up again. He walks through a locked door (Jesus is dramatic like that, always looking for a big entrance!) and He says, “Yo, Thomas. Go ahead. Touch the scars. I'm not afraid of your doubt.”
Thomas gets to do what others didn’t. He touches the wounds of the risen Jesus and says, “My Lord and my God.” His doubt leads him to belief.
Thomas’s doubt wasn’t the end of the story. For some reason people miss that. Thomas’s doubt was actually the beginning of something very real. Doubt isn’t a dealbreaker — it’s often the doorway to a deeper kind of faith. Even though doubts and fears are all through the Bible, people are afraid to question.
I want to tell you a story from David Dark’s book The Sacredness of Questioning Everything because it shows why we often fear questioning. Picture a tiny town in the middle of nowhere — a tight-knit community where people share many things in common. As an outsider coming into this town, you’d quickly notice the slightly forced references to “Uncle Ben.” You finish a meal and someone comments on the sunset, “Ohhh isn’t Uncle Ben awesome.”
The more days you hang out there, the more you notice that any good news brings out thankfulness to Uncle Ben. It seems that for this community, Uncle Ben is always on their minds. It’s weird — even when people aren’t talking, it’s like Uncle Ben is still on their minds. You see that look people have when they stop a train of thought before it goes too far, or quickly change the subject when something feels uncomfortable. Even though people are happy, they hardly look each other in the eye for very long.
At the beginning of each week there’s a meeting in the largest house. Everyone gathers outside catching up, with many conversations straining toward Uncle Ben. A bell sounds and everyone moves into the basement. Rows of seats face an enormous rumbling furnace. Seated right next to its door, as if he’s part of it, is a giant man in black overalls, his back turned to the people.
They wait in silence until the man stands, turns around with an angry, contorted face, and with a stare of barely contained rage shouts, “Am I good?” Everyone replies in unison, “Yes, Uncle Ben, you are good!” “Am I worthy of praise?” “You alone are worthy of praise!” “Do you love me more than anything?” “Yes, we love you more than anything and anyone.” “You’d better love me, or I’m going to put you… in here… forever…” and he opens the furnace door to reveal a gasping darkness.
Then Uncle Ben closes the door, turns his back, and sits in silence. Everyone leaves quietly and goes about their week, resuming their thankfulness to Uncle Ben. But to you, it’s perplexing. You can’t understand how blind they are to their crippling fear of Uncle Ben. Their fear limits and censors them, preventing honest talk or doubt.
For the record, the real God isn’t Uncle Ben. But the fear of an Uncle Ben–type, dictator, all-powerful, Wizard-of-Oz god causes us to think doubt and questioning are wrong. It’s how many churches and cultures throughout history have controlled and manipulated people.
When I first read this story, it was jarring and familiar, because in many ways it captured lies I had believed about God. Maybe for some here, if you’re honest, part of your image of God is Uncle Ben. But the good news is, God is not Uncle Ben. He is not afraid of your doubts and questions. He is an all-loving God who doesn’t have His back turned but wants to walk with you through life. He doesn’t hover over a furnace but wants to prevent you from experiencing hell on earth. Jesus spent most of His time explaining how to bring heaven into our world — His kingdom into our lives right now.
So why do we doubt? Sometimes it’s unanswered questions — “Why would God allow that to happen?” “Why does the Bible seem so sexually conservative?” “Don’t all religions lead to the same God?” “How do science and faith co-exist?” “Is the Bible even consistent?” “Why are Jews God’s chosen people — does that make God racist?” “Is hell real? What about heaven?” “If God really wanted us to follow Him, why wouldn’t He just show up right now?”
I’ve wrestled with these questions. Some have been resolved, others I’m still figuring out. Questions can cause doubts, which can deepen faith. Other times it’s unresolved hurt — “A Christian guy cheated on me.” “The church shamed me, controlled me, or was hypocritical.” The trauma causes doubt. And sometimes doubts grow with silence — “I prayed, I begged God… but nothing changed.”
The answer rarely comes the way we expect, but more often than not, the journey itself deepens our faith. Even Jesus’ closest friends doubted. The same disciples who saw miracles, saw the lame walk, watched Jesus rise from the dead — Scripture says of them, “Some worshiped, but some doubted” (Matthew 28:17). And Jesus didn’t split them into good vs. bad groups. He gave them all the same mission: “Go change the world — no matter what your doubts are.”
So don’t pretend not to doubt. Give voice to them. Talk to God — scream at Him if you have to. He can handle it. Talk with friends or join a life group. You may find answers, you may open up a can of worms, but your faith will grow. Too many people bail when they doubt. I’ve heard it so often: “I gave Christianity a go… I read the Bible, didn’t understand it… it’s not for me.”
That’s why I love Thomas’s story. He came back — even with his doubts. He kept showing up. That’s real faith. That’s the kind of faith we want at Lighthouse. Bring your full, honest self. This isn’t about pretending to be someone you’re not. The Jesus who welcomed Thomas is the same one welcoming you, right here, right now.
We live in a time of deconstruction — pulling apart and examining our beliefs. That’s not bad. Sometimes you have to dismantle a fake faith to find a real one. Too many Christians are trying to follow a formula — often a recent invention. Jesus never asked us to follow a formula. He asked us to follow Him, even with questions and uncertainty. Even if the only prayer you can pray is, “I want to believe. Help me with my unbelief.” Jesus can work with that.
Thomas didn’t stay in his doubt. That doubt made him one of the most effective disciples. History says he travelled further than any other — all the way to India, preaching, planting churches, reaching people no one else went to. Early writings say he built the first church in India with his own hands. According to tradition, when told to stop preaching, he refused, and was killed by a spear — the same wound he once demanded to see before believing. That’s doubt leading to deeper faith.
For me, at 3 a.m. in the middle of the Atlantic, locked below deck in the middle of my storm, I chose to trust God again. Even though I felt helpless and alone, I decided to believe I wasn’t alone. I chose to believe, even terrified, that God had it under control. I’d love to say peace filled my life or perfect love drove out all fear, but that’d be a Christian fairytale. The reality was a long, terrifying night where I felt alone. But the sun came up, and mile by mile, land grew closer. Somehow, through that storm and through the doubts and questions, my faith grew stronger.
That’s what happened for Thomas. He didn’t ghost God because of doubt. He kept showing up, kept sailing. In the end, his doubt didn’t disqualify him — it made his faith unshakable. So maybe your questions aren’t a problem to fix. Maybe they’re the place where something real is about to grow. And when the storm doesn’t stop, when the night feels endless, keep moving toward the light you do see. Take the next step, even if your legs are shaking. Because the presence of doubt doesn’t mean the absence of God. Sometimes, it’s the very place where He’s waiting to meet you.
I was sailing across the Atlantic, as you do, with a wife, three kids, and a cat and dog. It was night watch. The rest of the family was asleep. We had three days left on a two-week passage when a huge storm hit us a few hundred miles out from Barbados, with six-metre rollers smashing the back of the boat. We’d climb each wave at about 2 knots and then surf down them at 12 knots. It was getting so dangerous that I just whacked the boat on autopilot and went downstairs as I was worried about getting washed away.
I remember praying for God's help and then, as I was standing there praying, looking out to the waves at our stern, in the middle of a prayer for protection for my family, out of nowhere this random thought was like a grenade in my head: “What if none of this is real? What if I’ve spent my life following God, leading churches, giving money, believing that He is for us… what if I’ve been building my life on some lie? Am I just delusional?! Why the hell do I have my family and cat and dog in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean?” I was supposed to be praying and be a person of faith, but I felt so alone.
Now, if you've ever felt that, even for a moment, I want you to hear this clearly: doubt doesn’t disqualify your faith. It can deepen it.
I can’t count the number of times I’ve been told the opposite. Someone has suggested to me that my doubt is undermining my faith. “If you had enough faith, you’d never question God.” “If you really trusted God, you wouldn’t be so worried right now.” “If you pray more, read more, believe harder… it’ll all make sense.”
Questioning can be scary, particularly for people who have been brought up in faith or in church circles for a long time. They can be afraid to question. Often people have been taught that questioning is akin to either rejecting or losing our faith.
So let’s smash that idea first! The best evidence against it is the Bible itself. The Bible is a story full of characters discovering God and asking great questions. At the heart of the entire Bible is Jesus on a cross, Himself crying out a question to God: “Why have you forsaken me?” And all the evidence you need — Jesus asked 307 questions in the Bible.
Our doubts lead us to ask questions, and questions are God’s way of getting rid of wrongheaded notions of spirituality and life — ways that help us catch a larger picture of God and ourselves.
But what happens when your best prayers don’t work? What happens when you reach the limit of your “faith”? What happens when your best friend won’t come to church because she likes most of it, loves the people and the music, but some big questions prevent her from going all in? Because when we don’t question, we’ve been taught to just grit our teeth… “The Bible says it, so that settles it. You should believe it too.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Don’t question God.”
That kind of thinking has put so many people off God. That kind of theology looks great on a bumper sticker, fridge magnet, or coffee cup — but take that theology, and your coffee cup that says ‘With God all things are possible,’ into a hospital room, quote that scripture, and see what response you get.
Over three weeks we’ll look at three questioning Bible characters. My hope is that their stories will deepen our faith. We’ll look at an Old Testament guy named Habakkuk, we’ll talk about Peter, and today we’ll talk about Thomas — sometimes nicknamed “Doubting Thomas.” He’s the one disciple who missed Jesus’ first post-resurrection appearance.
The others were like, “We’ve seen him! He’s alive!” and Thomas says, “Cool for you. But unless I see the scars, unless I touch his side, I can’t believe that.” And Jesus doesn’t freak out, doesn’t call him a failure, doesn’t ghost him for lack of faith. Instead — eight days later — Jesus shows up again. He walks through a locked door (Jesus is dramatic like that, always looking for a big entrance!) and He says, “Yo, Thomas. Go ahead. Touch the scars. I'm not afraid of your doubt.”
Thomas gets to do what others didn’t. He touches the wounds of the risen Jesus and says, “My Lord and my God.” His doubt leads him to belief.
Thomas’s doubt wasn’t the end of the story. For some reason people miss that. Thomas’s doubt was actually the beginning of something very real. Doubt isn’t a dealbreaker — it’s often the doorway to a deeper kind of faith. Even though doubts and fears are all through the Bible, people are afraid to question.
I want to tell you a story from David Dark’s book The Sacredness of Questioning Everything because it shows why we often fear questioning. Picture a tiny town in the middle of nowhere — a tight-knit community where people share many things in common. As an outsider coming into this town, you’d quickly notice the slightly forced references to “Uncle Ben.” You finish a meal and someone comments on the sunset, “Ohhh isn’t Uncle Ben awesome.”
The more days you hang out there, the more you notice that any good news brings out thankfulness to Uncle Ben. It seems that for this community, Uncle Ben is always on their minds. It’s weird — even when people aren’t talking, it’s like Uncle Ben is still on their minds. You see that look people have when they stop a train of thought before it goes too far, or quickly change the subject when something feels uncomfortable. Even though people are happy, they hardly look each other in the eye for very long.
At the beginning of each week there’s a meeting in the largest house. Everyone gathers outside catching up, with many conversations straining toward Uncle Ben. A bell sounds and everyone moves into the basement. Rows of seats face an enormous rumbling furnace. Seated right next to its door, as if he’s part of it, is a giant man in black overalls, his back turned to the people.
They wait in silence until the man stands, turns around with an angry, contorted face, and with a stare of barely contained rage shouts, “Am I good?” Everyone replies in unison, “Yes, Uncle Ben, you are good!” “Am I worthy of praise?” “You alone are worthy of praise!” “Do you love me more than anything?” “Yes, we love you more than anything and anyone.” “You’d better love me, or I’m going to put you… in here… forever…” and he opens the furnace door to reveal a gasping darkness.
Then Uncle Ben closes the door, turns his back, and sits in silence. Everyone leaves quietly and goes about their week, resuming their thankfulness to Uncle Ben. But to you, it’s perplexing. You can’t understand how blind they are to their crippling fear of Uncle Ben. Their fear limits and censors them, preventing honest talk or doubt.
For the record, the real God isn’t Uncle Ben. But the fear of an Uncle Ben–type, dictator, all-powerful, Wizard-of-Oz god causes us to think doubt and questioning are wrong. It’s how many churches and cultures throughout history have controlled and manipulated people.
When I first read this story, it was jarring and familiar, because in many ways it captured lies I had believed about God. Maybe for some here, if you’re honest, part of your image of God is Uncle Ben. But the good news is, God is not Uncle Ben. He is not afraid of your doubts and questions. He is an all-loving God who doesn’t have His back turned but wants to walk with you through life. He doesn’t hover over a furnace but wants to prevent you from experiencing hell on earth. Jesus spent most of His time explaining how to bring heaven into our world — His kingdom into our lives right now.
So why do we doubt? Sometimes it’s unanswered questions — “Why would God allow that to happen?” “Why does the Bible seem so sexually conservative?” “Don’t all religions lead to the same God?” “How do science and faith co-exist?” “Is the Bible even consistent?” “Why are Jews God’s chosen people — does that make God racist?” “Is hell real? What about heaven?” “If God really wanted us to follow Him, why wouldn’t He just show up right now?”
I’ve wrestled with these questions. Some have been resolved, others I’m still figuring out. Questions can cause doubts, which can deepen faith. Other times it’s unresolved hurt — “A Christian guy cheated on me.” “The church shamed me, controlled me, or was hypocritical.” The trauma causes doubt. And sometimes doubts grow with silence — “I prayed, I begged God… but nothing changed.”
The answer rarely comes the way we expect, but more often than not, the journey itself deepens our faith. Even Jesus’ closest friends doubted. The same disciples who saw miracles, saw the lame walk, watched Jesus rise from the dead — Scripture says of them, “Some worshiped, but some doubted” (Matthew 28:17). And Jesus didn’t split them into good vs. bad groups. He gave them all the same mission: “Go change the world — no matter what your doubts are.”
So don’t pretend not to doubt. Give voice to them. Talk to God — scream at Him if you have to. He can handle it. Talk with friends or join a life group. You may find answers, you may open up a can of worms, but your faith will grow. Too many people bail when they doubt. I’ve heard it so often: “I gave Christianity a go… I read the Bible, didn’t understand it… it’s not for me.”
That’s why I love Thomas’s story. He came back — even with his doubts. He kept showing up. That’s real faith. That’s the kind of faith we want at Lighthouse. Bring your full, honest self. This isn’t about pretending to be someone you’re not. The Jesus who welcomed Thomas is the same one welcoming you, right here, right now.
We live in a time of deconstruction — pulling apart and examining our beliefs. That’s not bad. Sometimes you have to dismantle a fake faith to find a real one. Too many Christians are trying to follow a formula — often a recent invention. Jesus never asked us to follow a formula. He asked us to follow Him, even with questions and uncertainty. Even if the only prayer you can pray is, “I want to believe. Help me with my unbelief.” Jesus can work with that.
Thomas didn’t stay in his doubt. That doubt made him one of the most effective disciples. History says he travelled further than any other — all the way to India, preaching, planting churches, reaching people no one else went to. Early writings say he built the first church in India with his own hands. According to tradition, when told to stop preaching, he refused, and was killed by a spear — the same wound he once demanded to see before believing. That’s doubt leading to deeper faith.
For me, at 3 a.m. in the middle of the Atlantic, locked below deck in the middle of my storm, I chose to trust God again. Even though I felt helpless and alone, I decided to believe I wasn’t alone. I chose to believe, even terrified, that God had it under control. I’d love to say peace filled my life or perfect love drove out all fear, but that’d be a Christian fairytale. The reality was a long, terrifying night where I felt alone. But the sun came up, and mile by mile, land grew closer. Somehow, through that storm and through the doubts and questions, my faith grew stronger.
That’s what happened for Thomas. He didn’t ghost God because of doubt. He kept showing up, kept sailing. In the end, his doubt didn’t disqualify him — it made his faith unshakable. So maybe your questions aren’t a problem to fix. Maybe they’re the place where something real is about to grow. And when the storm doesn’t stop, when the night feels endless, keep moving toward the light you do see. Take the next step, even if your legs are shaking. Because the presence of doubt doesn’t mean the absence of God. Sometimes, it’s the very place where He’s waiting to meet you.