Doubt Wasn’t My Problem – Control Was
When doubt stops being about God—and starts being about us.
Somewhere along the way, my skepticism stopped sounding like questions—and started sounding like control.
Lately I’ve been reading through the Psalms each morning.
I sat frozen yesterday when my eyes came across this verse:
In his pride, the wicked man
does not seek him;
in all his thoughts,
there is no room for God.
— Psalm 10:4
Let’s be honest: skeptics usually have good reasons for being skeptical about following Jesus.
Most of the time, they didn’t wake up one day and decide to doubt God for fun.
They carry spiritual questions like a pocketful of rocks—heavy, familiar, sometimes sharp. And those rocks have names: betrayal, hypocrisy, philosophy, science, confusion, unanswered questions, unanswered prayer, silence.
But here's what I've noticed—especially in men:
Skeptics don’t stop being skeptics after they follow Jesus.
They just weaponize their skepticism toward other targets: Politics. Institutions. Experts. The church. Church leaders. Their friends. Their wives.
Since skepticism isn’t just a natural response to truth claims, but a mindset—one people choose—Christians who were skeptics before Jesus often remain skeptics about everything after becoming his disciple.
But here’s the twist no one talks about: They almost never question why they’re skeptics in the first place.
I know, because I used to be that guy.
I was a skeptic before Jesus and I remained a skeptic after following Jesus—just not about God.
And honestly, I was doing fine...
Until I started seeing the fallout of my skepticism—not in my soul, but in my kids.
Pointing out logical inconsistencies in every conversation.
Excessive use of sarcasm.
Distrusting anyone’s motives.
Skeptics are just hard people to be around.
And my natural way of being affected my kids in ways I didn’t realize.
I can live with hurting myself.
I’ve even made peace, in dark moments, with hurting my wife.
But the thought of hurting my kids?
Once I realized it was happening? That cracked me wide open.
There’s something about holding a newborn—tiny, trusting, utterly defenseless—that makes it impossible to keep lying to yourself.
One day, I picked up G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy, and this line grabbed me by the throat:
“The madman is not the man who has lost his reason.
The madman is the man who has lost everything except his reason.”
That was me.
Suspicious of everything.
Reasonable to a fault.
Logical to the point of loneliness.
So I started digging.
Books.
Therapy.
Retreats.
Mentors.
Quiet mornings and long, messy talks with my wife, drlisajones.com
And what I discovered is this:
For me, logic was never the problem—before or after following Jesus.
Logic was the moat.
Pride was the wall.And inside the fortress?
A grown man in armor, guarding a wounded boy’s heart who had made a vow:
No one’s getting in close enough to hurt me again.
That’s what skepticism had become for me:
Not a search for truth—but a survival tactic.
A way to stay in control.
A way to keep God at arm’s length as a non-believer…
and keeping people at arm’s length after my baptism.
I didn’t doubt God because I was proud.
I stayed proud so I wouldn’t have to doubt me.
Maybe you’re not pushing God away because you doubt Him.
Maybe you’re just tired of trusting anyone — even yourself.
But what if surrender isn’t the risk?
What if pride is?
A note about my new newsletter:
Dear Friends,
I’ve restarted my weekly newsletter, and you’ll find it’s being sent from Substack – a fantastic newsletter tool for writers to connect with readers and friends.
If you received this, fantastic!
If you don’t want to continue, I understand, times change, as do people.
For those who stay my hope is to offer a midweek pause for you to think and reflect.
And since it’s been a minute since we’ve connected, here are a few changes that have happened in my life:
First, we’re going to be grandparents! Two of our daughters are due in October!
Second, we are the proud owners of 13 chickens! We live in the Unami Forest outside Philadelphia and are slowly building what we call Meadow Brook Farm(ish).
Third, God willing, if I can get our fence up this summer, we hope to add 3 Old English Southdown Babydoll Sheep and Nigerian Dwarf goats next Spring. I’ve been trying to make this happen but something has stood in the way…
Fourth, for the past few years I’ve been derailed by three major surgeries: a back fusion and fusions of both SI joints (thank you football). Since 2020, thesse three surgeries have taken the wind out of my sails, but I’m so much better, I’m training and and ready to get my farm-ish going. (I can hear my daughters looking at this picture and saying, “Dad, ew, no. Not that pic.”)
Fifth, our red golden retriever Meadow is five years old now and is still super snuggly and loves chasing squirrels, groundhogs, rabbits, foxes and deer on our property.
Sixth, Lisa and I will celebrate our 37th anniversary this July. FYI, this is us riding a gondola in Colorado to mountain bike 3 miles down a mountain. (the equipment makes me look super jacked thank you very much)
Seventh, I’ve started writing my next book, which I’ll share updates about on occasion. Should be ready early 2026.
Finally, on October 5th, we’ll celebrate the 25th anniversary of Christ’s Church of the Valley in suburban Philadelphia. For a quarter of a century, it has been our joy and honor to plant and serve this incredible church family. In that time, over 2,800 people have come to faith in Jesus and grown as his disciples. Together, this community has planted churches around the world, built centers to fight human trafficking, and rescued thousands of children from poverty in Kenya and Haiti—all because ordinary people chose to live extraordinary lives for the sake of making more and better disciples of Jesus.
Until next week, friend.
Brian