I Am a Believer (In Spite of It All)
A public confession and a declaration of faith—still standing, still healing, still hopeful.
Welcome to In Spite of It All, a series reclaiming faith from the wreckage of empire, performance, and fear. This isn’t just deconstruction—it’s resurrection. It’s about telling the truth, naming the harm, and still daring to believe in a gospel that heals. If you’ve been pushed to the margins, if your heart is bruised by the church but still aching for God—this is for you.
This post is my cornerstone. My testimony. My fire-in-the-bones confession of what I no longer believe, and what I still do.
“I Am a Believer (In Spite of It All)”
By J. Francis Druhan | The Layman’s Term
I’ve got a confession to make.
Not the kind whispered in shame behind stained glass.
Not the kind that seeks forgiveness from a pew.
But the kind that sets you free.
I am a believer.
And I don’t mean that in the way church folks might expect.
I am a believer—not in the sky-God of empire,
not in the angry patriarch with a thunderbolt temper,
not in the transactional deity who blesses the rich and burns the rest.
I do not believe in the God used to justify slavery.
I do not believe in the God used to silence women.
I do not believe in the God used to erase queer people.
I do not believe in the God of gold thrones, bloodlust, or book deals.
But I am a believer.
And here’s who I believe in:
I believe in a God who is not above us, but among us.
Who does not dwell behind velvet ropes or theological gatekeeping,
but sits in ER waiting rooms, shelters, and street corners.
A God who isn’t interested in being worshipped from afar—
but longs to be followed, imitated, and incarnated in love.
I believe in a God who transcends maleness, whiteness, straightness, and status.
A God who mothers and fathers and siblings us into wholeness.
A God whose pronouns are too big for our liturgies,
but who shows up, every time, in the voice of the silenced.
I believe in a God who does not send people to hell for being human.
No flames, no trapdoors, no theological “gotchas.”
Just a love that refuses to quit—
even when we run, hide, or rage.
Because love that threatens isn’t love.
And mercy doesn’t come with a bill.
I believe in a God who never set us up to fail.
Who didn’t bait Adam and Eve with a fruit trap,
or demand a blood sacrifice to fix what He allegedly broke.
I believe in a God who said from the start:
“You are good.”
And meant it.
I believe in a God who came through the womb of a poor teenage girl.
Not to shame her, but to honor her.
Not to override biology, but to show us that every birth—
every body—is holy ground.
I believe in a God who speaks many languages.
The Torah, the Gospel, the Qur’an, the wind, the silence.
Who is found not just in Christian churches,
but in mosques, temples, forests, marches,
and anywhere truth walks barefoot.
I believe in a God who didn’t demand blood to love us.
The cross wasn’t a divine contract.
It was a protest.
A mirror held up to empire and religion alike.
Jesus didn’t die to change God’s mind about us—
He died to change our mind about what love looks like.
I believe in a God who values your mind.
Who invites your doubts.
Who welcomes your wrestling.
Who gave you a brain on purpose.
And wants you to use it.
Faith is not blind allegiance.
It’s courageous trust in the midst of uncertainty.
I believe in a God who dismantles patriarchy.
Who calls women to preach,
queer folks to lead,
and the oppressed to rise.
Who doesn’t sanctify control—
but sets captives free.
I believe in a God whose plan is not Armageddon, but Jubilee.
Not a holy war, but holy healing.
Not a rapture, but a revolution—
where swords become plowshares
and justice rolls like thunder.
I believe in a God who doesn’t require fine print.
No theological contracts.
No spiritual performance.
No “I love you, if…”
Just love.
Always.
Already.
Enough.
So yes—
I am a believer.
Not in the god of nationalism, white supremacy, or divine authoritarianism.
Not in the god made in man’s image to bless man’s empire.
Not in the god whose kingdom looks suspiciously like Caesar’s.
But in the God of Jesus—
The barefoot rabbi.
The table-flipping prophet.
The friend of outcasts.
The challenger of kings.
I am a believer in the God who whispers through the margins:
“You are already loved. Already whole. Already mine.”
I am a believer in a church that is rising—
Not to reclaim power,
but to reclaim love.
Not to gatekeep,
but to gather.
Not to dominate,
but to liberate.
Because Jesus didn’t come to start a religion.
He came to start a revolution of love.
And that revolution is still going.
So I will stand, shoulder to shoulder,
with the doubters and dreamers, the deconstructing and the determined.
And I will say it again—
I am a believer.
In spite of it all.
Because of it all.
Amen.
📖 Series Navigation
This post is the prelude to the series In Spite of It All
→ Start Here – Series Index
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