I started a blog earlier about faith and found it boring and rambling so here’s the revised version.
It started with Amy’s blog about her search for God and her own faith. She’s been struggling lately and, as you all can I’m sure, I can really relate to her struggle, especially now when she’s going through huge upheavals in her life. I wanted to give her comforting words and advice but realized that my own strength of faith is hit and miss at best.
My friend, Kim, who just came down for a visit from Canada, had the most unshakeable faith of anyone I know. Through hard times, through the sudden, tragic loss of her brother a few years ago, I have never seen her faith waiver. We’ve never talked about it but her constant reassurance to me to trust, to believe and to keep going is visible evidence to me of her faith.
Like Amy, I think sometimes my faith comes from having no other choice but to have faith. Particularly in the past year, as I’ve struggled with anger, resentment, loneliness, heart-breaking choices and life-changing events, I’ve tried to hold on to the thought that there is a reason behind all of this. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of it. Sometimes, it’s as simple as the lovely night the other night with Chairman, Zadra and Monica. Sometimes, it’s seeing the work I’m doing, like “Weight of the Word” and the new script.
But the every day, moment-to-moment, letting go kind of faith is hard. It’s particularly hard when there isn’t evidence that the faith will result in something in the long run. Of course, I want that something to be what I want, not necessarily what God wants. Of course, if it’s contrary to what I want, then it can’t be right. It’s hard to let go and believe when the results are not what you were praying for.
Through those times, I say I have faith that this is where I’m supposed to be and that things will be what they’re meant to be and that I accept the things that are put in front of me. But a huge part of me is going, are you nuts? THIS is it? What about… and then there’s… and how come… My faith goes right out the window then, leaving me with nothing. And nothing sucks. So I put on my game face for God and say, okay, I trust you… because you’re all I’ve got. I have to trust you because you’ve proven in the past that things I can’t see yet are coming and things work out in the strangest way on God’s plan, if I can just get out of the way. But sometimes I don’t want to get out of the way. I want to scream at the heavens, “but you put this here and you did this and you gave me this and now I don’t get to have it and you take it away but just out of arm’s reach, not completely away, so I can see it but I can’t have it, what the hell is that?” Faith goes out the window. And there is no big, booming voice saying, “Trust me and have faith and all will be well.” I just basically run out of energy for fighting and realize that faith is just that – just letting go and hoping against hope that God knows what he’s doing in my life. I sure don’t so somebody must.
Sometimes having faith is painful and difficult and pisses me off. Sometimes, faith means accepting the things that you don’t want, only to hang on to the thought that something greater is coming. Sometimes, faith just bites.
But I don’t know what my life would be like without my tiny, little, shaky faith. I can’t imagine getting through the dark days without some tiny, little thought that something better must be coming around the corner.
Right now, even as I write, I am struggling with having faith about a seemingly silly situation, compared to what Amy’s going through. But to me, it’s enormous and I just can’t quite see what’s on the other side of it. But I’m hanging on to my faith by my fingernails that there is something better there. It’s hard and I hate it and I wish it would be easy and that an envelope would appear on my doorstep, telling me what to do. But if I hang on and I listen carefully to that tiny, little voice buried way deep down inside of me, the answer will come, whatever it is. And I do have faith that God will get me through that answer and help me on to the next one.
Because what else is there?
1 comment:
Aw, honey, your words ARE comforting. "Sometimes faith is getting off the floor and trusting that tomorrow you won't end up on the floor again." That's the most real thing I've heard in days.
And I think MY situation is silly compared to some other people I know, so don't worry about it. We've all got stuff to wrestle with. It all counts. It all matters.
And I always think of my faith as "ragged." Tattered, big gaping holes in it. But still wobbling in the breeze, for better or worse.
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