In 1951, philosopher-theologian Paul Tillich spoke the famous words, to be published in book form a year later, “The courage to be is rooted in the God who appears when God has disappeared in the anxiety of doubt.”

He spoke these words in the midst of American postwar affluence, at an Ivy League university, as a soon-to-be-famous (adopted) American intellectual. But he also spoke these words as a man who had seen war and death, who was estranged from his homeland, and who looked out on a world trapped in Cold War.

Personally, I came across these words last year, right at the beginning of the original COVID lockdown. By the end of that year, I was on antidepressants and was struggling with the life we had all been handed — political turmoil, the pandemic, deeply toxic social media, loneliness, insecurity about the future, and so on.

In some ways, God had disappeared. Not intellectually. Not emotionally, exactly. Not theologically, really, either. But still, faith had begun to seem irrelevant.

So many who were struggling with reality were doing anything but turning to God. So many, who claimed to hold onto God, seemed to be reacting to everything in society in anything but God’s ways. Many people, on the edges of my church and others, began using the disappearance of in-person worship as a convenient (and invisible) offramp from community. Christians themselves seemed in turmoil about what the world was coming to. Those who claimed to follow a Jesus who said, “Do not worry about tomorrow,” seemed to be doing anything but obeying his command. Including me.

I’m told, by people in the know, that over the last year-and-a-half islanders have availed themselves greatly of psychological services. Many also, I hear, took up meditation. Personally, I’m glad people have sought healing and support. I have, too — as I’ve already said, I’m on meds. It’s been a tough year.

The faith of many, I also know, took a hit. Evangelical Christianity, as an example, came off quite poorly in the last year and deserves much of the reputation it has earned. Embarrassed of their fellow believers, many have fled the church—either literally, or in their hearts. God, it’s sometimes felt, has disappeared.

On the other hand, I’ve had more conversations about faith with non-Christians and non-churchgoers during this past year than I’ve ever had in my life. People seem very open to talking about God. They may not think much of his institutions. They may cringe when I call God a “he.” But God, I find, is on people’s minds. They just no longer trust the church as a place of good news.

But Christian faith is, above all, faith in resurrection. As we head into fall, we’re already heading toward spring. It felt like God threatened to disappear on me last year for a while. But he never quite did. He kept sticking around. (It seems to be what he does.) I threatened to disappear on God a little, too. But I also never quite did. God and I have remained good friends through it all. When my faith failed for a while, God’s faith stepped in and kept me afloat.

“The courage to be is rooted in the God who appears when God has disappeared in the anxiety of doubt.”

Life has been rocky these past many months for us all. It promises, it seems, to remain so for a while. But you and I are still here. We remain. And I hope we all stick around for a bit. God, I believe, is still with us, too. He’s the Presence we feel without feeling it. He’s the Spirit surrounding us without us knowing it. He’s the God who is with us. And I hope, for each one of us, he appears in a way we can find him.

Mike Ivaska is the pastor of Vashon Island Community Church.