When what you used to believe doesn't fit anymore.

Maybe you grew up believing certain things about God, faith, the Bible, church, or how the world works. For a long time, those beliefs made sense. Maybe they gave your life structure. Comfort. Community. Meaning. A way of understanding who you were and where you belonged. Or maybe that was simply the way it worked in your family, and by default, you went along with it.

And then something changed.

Maybe you experienced something that didn't fit neatly inside what you'd been taught. Maybe you began asking questions you had never allowed yourself to ask before. Maybe someone you trusted spiritually hurt you. Maybe you watched people who talked about love behave in ways that didn't seem loving. Maybe some intense suffering changed the way you understand God- I thought God promised He wouldn’t give me more than I can handle. I trusted Him, He let me down and I don’t know what to do with that anymore. Verses and church and small group leaders aren’t able to do or say anything to me that is helpful or makes sense anymore.

Maybe science, another religion, another person, or simply your own life exposed you to ways of seeing the world you hadn't considered before. Or maybe nothing dramatic happened at all.

You just aren't sure you believe what you used to believe.

And that can be surprisingly frightening. Because beliefs don't exist by themselves. They become tangled up with family, friendships, marriage, community, morality, identity—and sometimes even our sense of whether we are a good person. So questioning one belief can begin to feel like pulling on a thread that might unravel everything.

You may find yourself wondering:

What if I'm wrong? What if everyone I love thinks I've lost my way? What if I question this and eventually stop believing altogether? What if I still believe in God—but not the God I was taught to believe in? What if I don't know what I believe at all?

You don't have to answer those questions here. And you don't have to choose a new set of beliefs to replace the old ones.

Not knowing can be a place to begin.

There can be space between “I can't believe this anymore” and “Now I know exactly what I believe instead.”

Spiritual direction can be a place to live in that space for a while.

You don't have to replace one certainty with another.

When beliefs begin to change, it can be tempting to immediately search for something new to hold onto.

A different church. A different theology. A different spiritual tradition. A different explanation for God. A different set of people who seem absolutely certain that they have finally figured it out. Sometimes discovering something new is exactly what we need.

But sometimes we need permission not to know for a while.

Spiritual direction isn't a place where I'll hand you a new set of beliefs to replace the ones you're questioning. I'm not going to decide which parts of your faith you should keep, which ones you should let go of, or where you should eventually land. Instead, we can become curious about what is happening.

What no longer feels true? What still does? What are you grieving? What are you relieved to be letting go of? What are you afraid might happen if your beliefs change? What do you miss? What are you angry about?

And beneath all the questioning, is there anything you still long for?

Maybe you aren't sure you believe in your Higher Power anymore—but some part of you still longs for something Other.

Maybe church no longer feels safe, but you miss community. Maybe prayer doesn't make sense anymore, but you miss feeling connected to something greater than yourself. Maybe you've let go of beliefs that once defined your faith and discovered, unexpectedly, that something sacred still seems to remain.

Or maybe right now you feel absolutely nothing.

All of that belongs here.

You don't have to defend the person you used to be. And you don't have to become a different person before you're welcome. We can simply pay attention to what is changing, what is falling away, and what—if anything—still feels alive.

You are allowed to discover what you believe slowly.

Questioning your faith doesn't mean you've failed at faith.

For some of us, questions were welcomed growing up.

For others, they weren't.

Maybe you learned—directly or indirectly—that good people believe certain things. Good Christians (or followers of any belief system) don't doubt. Faith means trusting even when something doesn't make sense. Questions can be dangerous. And somewhere along the way, you may have learned that certainty was evidence of faithfulness.

So when certainty begins to disappear, it can feel like something is wrong with you.

Maybe you feel guilty for asking questions. Maybe you're afraid of disappointing God. Maybe you're worried that if you examine your beliefs too closely, everything will fall apart. Or perhaps you've already experienced what can happen when you say your questions out loud.

Someone tried to correct you. Someone gave you a Bible verse. Someone told you to pray more. Someone became worried about you. Someone tried to convince you that the goal was to get back to where you were before. But what if going backward isn't the point?

Sometimes questions arise because something within us is asking to be examined more honestly. That doesn't mean every belief you question needs to be abandoned. Some may become more meaningful when you choose them for yourself. Some may change. Some may fall away completely.

And some questions may remain questions for a very long time.

Spiritual direction gives us room to explore all of that without deciding ahead of time where you're supposed to end up. I won't be frightened by your questions. I won't need to defend God from them. And I won't measure the health of your spiritual life by how closely your beliefs resemble mine.

Your questions are welcome here.vSo is your anger. Your doubt. Your curiosity. Your grief. Your hope. And even the part of you that isn't sure there's anything left to hope for. You don't have to know whether you're losing your faith, changing your faith, deepening your faith—or discovering something entirely different.

We can simply begin with what is true for you now.

You don't have to believe anything in particular to begin.

Maybe you still call yourself Christian/follower. Maybe you don't. Maybe you still believe in God, but your understanding of God has changed. Maybe you believe there is something greater than yourself but don't have a name for it. Maybe words like God, Divine, Spirit, Universe, or Higher Power all feel inadequate.

Or maybe you're honestly not sure there is anything there at all.

You are still welcome in spiritual direction.

You don't need to pretend to believe something you don't. You don't need to use spiritual language that feels unnatural to you. And you don't need to worry that I'm quietly trying to lead you toward the conclusion I think you should reach. I'm not.

What matters is your actual experience—not the spiritual life you think you're supposed to have. We can talk about what you've believed, what has changed, what you've lost, what you're questioning, and what you may still be searching for. We can pay attention to the moments when something feels meaningful, sacred, alive, beautiful, unsettling, or difficult to explain. And if you want to talk about God, we can talk about God.

If you're angry with God, there's room for that too.

If you're not sure God or any Higher Power exists, we don't have to solve that before we begin. There is no belief test at the door. There is simply an invitation to bring your questions honestly and see where they lead.

If you don't know what you believe anymore, you don't have to figure it out alone.

I'd be honored to sit with you in the questions.