To the Young Disciple Who Loves God, but Struggles to Like Him

Doubt, Discouragement, & Questions

Photo by Karl Fredrickson on Unsplash

Note: This is a letter to one of my school of discipleship students.

It is both personal and broad. I have written it in a way that can help anyone struggling with doubting God and His goodness.

This letter is for my student, but it is also for everyone.

Dear Young Disciple,

You said something the other day that struck me with its honesty and its weight. You confessed, almost reluctantly, that you love God, but you do not always like Him.

Those words lingered with me, not because they were shocking, but because they were profoundly human.

I have a hunch that many who sit quietly in Church or gather in small groups feel this tension, but few dare to say it aloud!

But there it is — spoken with a courage that many lack.

And that, in itself, is a gift.

This tension, this paradox of loving God yet struggling to like Him, is a common thread in the human heart, especially in a heart that belongs to a critical thinker such as yourself!

I believe there is a part of every human soul that wrestles not with the reality of God, but with His ways.

It is one thing to acknowledge God’s existence, and quite another to embrace His purposes, especially when they clash with our understanding of justice, fairness, or even kindness.

When you described this feeling, I couldn’t help but think of the Psalmists — ancient poets who dared to voice their confusion and anguish in the face of a God who, at times, seemed distant, severe, or silent.

“How long, O Lord?” and “Why have you forgotten me?” are not the cries of faithless people, but of those who have clung so tightly to God that they are blown away by the roughness of His embrace.

The Psalms are full of this — songs of sorrow that are also, somehow, songs of trust! In those ancient words, I believe you may find a kind of companionship for your own heart.

You mentioned that it is easier to speak about God than to speak to Him. That resonates deeply. I know personally It is far easier to articulate theories of God, to analyze doctrine, or even to teach theology, than it is to kneel and wrestle with Him directly.

It’s sort of like standing at the edge of a roaring sea, where you can study the waves and chart the currents without ever entering the water.

But entering into a conversation with God — bringing Him your doubts, your resentments, your fears — is like wading into the depths. This is precisely what He calls us to do!

Perhaps you feel that the God you speak about is a different God from the one you feel when you pray. In this, you are not alone.

Many of the most faithful have felt this divide — a God who is easier to discuss than to encounter.

But take heart, for God is not offended by your struggle!

I believe He welcomes it.

He is the God who invited Jacob to wrestle with Him in the night, who called Job into the whirlwind, and who let Thomas place his fingers into the wounds.

Your struggle to like God is not a sign of a failing faith, but of an honest one.

It reveals that you are not content with a shallow relationship, that you are not willing to gloss over the hard truths or paint God in simplistic hues.

And this is a rare and precious thing.

For it is only in acknowledging this tension that you can begin to move through it!

You are a seeker — one who is not satisfied with pat answers or neatly packaged theology.

You want to understand, not for the sake of winning arguments, but for the sake of knowing what is true.

And this makes you, in some ways, more like the disciples than you may realize. Those twelve men who followed Jesus were not examples of perfect faith; they were men with doubts and misunderstandings. But they stayed close to Jesus… even when they did not fully comprehend!

You spoke about your frustration with the simplicity of those who seem so confident in their faith, those who find comfort in answers that feel too small to hold the complexities you see.

This is another burden of the seeker I myself feel constantly — to live in a world that is often content with shallow truths.

But let me offer you this perspective: those simple answers are not the end of the road, but the beginning. They are the first steps of children learning to walk, and they are not to be despised.

Your journey is leading you further, into the deeper waters, where certainty is less clear but where faith can grow more profound.

Let me speak plainly to you, as one who understands this road: it is not your task to despise those who are content with simplicity, nor is it your burden to dwell in bitterness over their misunderstandings.

Instead, you are called to a different path — to ask the deeper questions not to dismantle the simple, but to discover the fuller picture.

Remember that the mysteries of God are both deep and wide, and there is room for both the child and the philosopher (and as much as I try to be the latter, I find myself again and again becoming the former.)

Going back to your statment, “It’s easy to love God, but hard to like Him.”

To this, I would say that it is hard to like anyone we do not fully understand. And God, being the Infinite and the Unseen, often remains beyond our grasp.

But let me suggest that perhaps what you are wrestling with is not God Himself, but the image of God that has been presented to you — a version of God shaped by cultural expectations, religious traditions, and human limitations.

The real God is both wilder and more gentle than the one you have been taught to see.

He is not merely the stern ruler who issues commands from a distant throne, nor is He the indifferent spectator who watches the world unfold with dispassionate eyes!

He is the God who walked among us, who wept at the tomb of a friend, who called children to His side, and who forgave those who nailed Him to a cross.

He is the God who enters into our suffering and meets us in our doubts, not to shame us, but to show us that we are known and loved.

I want to leave you with a word of encouragement and a challenge.

The encouragement is this: you are not alone in this journey.

Others have walked it before you, and they have found that even in the midst of doubt, there is a light that shines.

This light is not always bright, and it does not always chase away every shadow, but it is enough to guide your steps. And if you keep walking, you will find that the light grows brighter as your eyes adjust to the darkness.

The challenge, however, is this: do not settle for merely thinking about God. Speak to Him, even if your words are halting or angry or confused.

Tell Him that you love Him… but sometimes do not like Him, and see what He says in response.

I believe that He will meet you there, not with condemnation, but with understanding.

He is the God who invites questions and meets them with His presence.

You are a young disciple who loves deeply and thinks deeply.

And though this path is not easy or safe, it is a good one.

You are being shaped not into a person who merely knows about God, but into one who knows Him intimately.

And that, my dear young disciple, is a far greater thing.

Your friend on the journey,
Aaron

Sermon On The Mount Meditation

After reading the letter, I want you to meditate on Matthew 7:7–8:
“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.”

My friend, your questions and your search for understanding are not signs of a weak faith but of a growing one.

Jesus invites you to continue seeking, with the assurance that your persistence in asking will not go unanswered.

Meditate on these words, and let them be a reminder that your pursuit of truth is not in vain.

God does not dismiss your questions; He promises to meet you in them.