By Kat Wordsworth

Vicious, destructive and unnecessary. All words that might come to mind if you observe a gardener scarifying a lawn without understanding what you are witnessing. Watching someone forcibly raking through grass, ripping out moss and stabbing deep holes into the soil appears to be the antithesis of the careful, tender gardener who gently coaxes seeds into bloom. How could the grass possibly survive? Will anything remain? Is it truly necessary?

But within this death, there is life. Scarifying a lawn is essential for its health. Without it, the grass risks weakness and suffocation. The moss and weeds block light and steal nutrients.The soil becomes compressed by the weight of life above. This seemingly brutal process is an act of grace. It lets the light in. It allows air to enter. It might even awaken some unexpected wildflowers.

When doubt scarified my faith, I took the role of the indignant observer. I didn’t ask for it to happen, I saw no benefit, and I couldn’t recognise the presence of a loving gardener. I thought I was fine as I was. All I saw was destruction. Relentless, doubt showed no mercy, scraping my faith bare, removing parts that I thought were vital. With certainty stripped, I was forced to examine everything. What I believed about God, what I believed about myself. Who I thought God was, who I thought I was. At first, I held doubt accountable. I blamed it as the instrument of destruction, failing to recognise that it was an instrument of grace. Doubt was the rake, the refiner’s fire, not the moss. The true suffocater was fear, not uncertainty.

Doubt opened fractures, created scars, and though I feared they would render the whole structure unstable, they exposed something unexpected. Buried under the questions, shame and confusion was a longing for God that I didn’t know was there. Faith that lay dormant was discovered. A seed awakened. Hope exposed to the light, with space to grow, nutrients to absorb.

Grass doesn’t regrow overnight. After scarification, you water and feed. You make allowances for the slightly disheveled appearance. You hope. And slowly, something miraculous happens. From the destruction, within the death, life wakes. Life, faith, which is healthier, with deeper roots and more resilience. It blooms, searches for the sun. And then the process begins again.

Kat Wordsworth

Kat Wordsworth writes from the tension of doubtful faith in order to make doubt a less feared and misunderstood topic within Christian culture. Her debut book, Let’s Talk About Doubt, will be released in early 2023. She lives with her family in Yorkshire, England. You can connect with Kat on Instagram at @about_doubt.