The Weight of Doubt

The Weight of Doubt

Faith has to include the questions—

the dark ones we don’t say out loud,

the ones that keep us pacing at night.

To stuff them down, smile bright,

chant the hymns by rote,

is not to bear the cross—

it’s to pretend it’s featherlight.

I’ve seen the way we train ourselves,

how we preach proof,

stone upon stone of scriptural evidence,

until the weight threatens to crush.

Doubt’s not the enemy—

it’s the bell that rings in the dark,

reminding us we’re still awake,

still capable of walking a path.

The cross was a paradox—

penalty and forgiveness,

death and life entwined.

How can we bear it lightly,

if it’s meant to kill us first?