In My Opinion
By L.N.P.

Statement of Faith

The other day my husband was telling me about his efforts to bring someone he loves back into the faith, and it made me think. What, exactly, would I tell this guy if he asked me? After all, he seems to be doing just fine without the fire and brimstone religion he was brought up with, and I’m certainly not one of those evangelistic types who spends every waking minute worrying about someone’s eternal salvation. So what is it about this faith of ours that I’d wish for someone else?

Certainly the longer we’ve been Christians, the more doubts, questions and inconsistencies we’ve been forced to deal with. The growth comes, I think, when you realize that’s OK; we’re allowed to question God, to get angry at him, even to doubt him. We can’t possibly know all the answers to something as mysterious as faith, and when we turn to our fellow human beings, the answers they can provide usually fall far short of satisfying us. Sometimes, in fact, those answers contradict each other, bringing with them added confusion. My husband and I are the challenging type too, which doesn’t make it easy on those for whom we always have unanswerable questions. It doesn’t make it easy for us either; blind, unquestioning faith would be so much easier.

So what is it about our faith that has grown stronger, even as we grow more discerning and more dissatisfied with pat answers? Well, for me, the first is that I can no longer imagine a world in which I don’t acknowledge a Being greater than myself; the very thought is now inconceivable to me. How could I possibly not want to put my faith in Someone infinitely more powerful, more loving, more merciful, more awesome than myself? I believe in a creating and an intervening God. If you were to ask me why I believe in a creating God, I could only point to the stars and the galaxies and the trees and the butterflies and the inexorable way the earth rotates and the winds blow and the moon rises. I can no longer accept any of that as random chance. If you then asked me why I believe in an intervening God, especially in light of all the misery and suffering in the world, my answer would be at once very simple on a personal level, and far more complex on a global one.

I have faith personally because I know, I am certain, that God acts in my life. You can’t debate me on this because “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Heb. 11:1) So I’m certain, and I can’t prove it. For the many who tell me that something good happened to me because of what I did, or how hard I worked, or because I was lucky, or that it was a coincidence, I can only respond that I disagree. That may be their faith, but it’s not mine, and of that I am surer now than I ever was. After all, it’s not called faith for nothing!

Globally the question of faith becomes far more complicated, with no easy answers. But still, there are some. Perhaps the most persuasive is free will. God created us all with the ability to make choices, and it would be difficult for anyone to refute the fact that much of the suffering, violence, and pain that occurs in our world is the direct result of choices made by human beings. Secondly, of course, is that God does not intervene when it comes to natural law. Having put it in place, God has left it alone. Natural law accounts for the tsunamis and hurricanes as well as the gentle breezes and nourishing rains. It accounts for the sun drenched sky as well as the drought; the glorious abundance as well as the famine. Then, human greed, poor judgment, indecision, indifference, selfishness and all the other traits we’re free to choose from do the rest.

I guess I struggle most with illness. No person chooses to get cancer. No couple chooses to lose their child, or watch a loved one suffer with an incurable disease. When something dreadful strikes someone who clearly has done nothing to deserve it, where is God?  That question probably stretches faith about as far as it can be stretched, at least for me. And yet, I’ve witnessed the most amazing phenomenon happen to a few people to whom this very thing has occurred. They’ve become closer to God. I don’t know how this happens, but I know that it has to do with the fact that in a person’s darkest hours when there is nothing left but God, they discover that God is the only one they can cling to—and God is all they need. At this moment I have no idea if that’s what would happen to me; I can only pray that’s the way I’d respond. But, I’ve watched terribly ill people grow stronger in their faith and deeper in their personal relationship with God. I’ve also watched them be tested to their limits and come out stronger, with a deeper faith. I don’t believe God causes illness (or personal tragedies of any kind) but I DO believe that when they happen He uses them to grow us in our faith.

The second thing that I would tell the guy my husband was talking to is that trying, even just making the attempt, to put God first in your life, to live more like Jesus did, can’t help but improve the quality of your life. Putting God first doesn’t in any way diminish the love I have for my husband, my children, my friends, because that’s exactly what we’re called to do. To love. Putting God first also calls me to service—treating others, especially those less fortunate, or those who are different, as I would want to be treated; somehow hearing and reading about that great command all the time helps reinforce what is best in me. Sadly, I wasn’t raised to care much about my “neighbor.” I wasn’t taught that in my school. I didn’t suddenly develop a strong moral imperative to be more giving, more compassionate, to serve others more. I realize that some do this on their own, and I applaud them for it. Personally, I needed to develop a deeper relationship with God and a better understanding of what He wanted from me before I felt moved to love my neighbor as myself. I learned that from the Bible, from sermons, from prayer, and from others striving to live the same way.

And that brings up the third thing I’d tell this guy. I am surrounded by other people striving as hard as they can—failing often, because they’re human—but struggling to live to please God. To be, somehow, a little kinder, more giving, less materialistic, less judgmental, more eager to serve and do some good in this world. It’s not that faith requires organized religion or attendance at a church, but it’s been through the church that I’ve found the most people engaged in that struggle. When we moved to Texas and had to leave our old church I thought I’d never find such a warm and loving church family again. These were people who would do anything for me (or my neighbor), who would offer help of any kind when I couldn’t ask my other friends; who had, in fact, done all that and more.

But I quickly discovered a new church family with other people just like that, and I admit it; I enjoy being surrounded by them. Certainly, there have been Christians who‘ve let us down, disappointed us, shown us that hypocrisy comes in all flavors. That doesn’t shake my faith; it just confirms that humans are as flawed as they’re alleged to be. That’s why I need to believe in Someone greater than they are, greater than myself.

I guess in the end, it all comes down to whom (or what) you worship. When I’ve been surrounded by other people, the object of their worship was often their career, or their kids, fame, drugs, sex, money, success, SELF… the myriad things we humans can and do idolize.  Somehow, when God is who you worship, the bonds of fellowship between you and your fellow humans seem to grow increasingly more powerful.

Lastly, I guess I’d tell him that the older I get, the more I appreciate the hope of eternal life over the finality of the grave. My evolving concepts about that eternity are for another column, but suffice it to say that I don’t imagine myself sitting on a cloud, wearing wings, or playing a harp. I imagine, instead, a new earth, one without the heartache and pain and suffering of this one. One with all that is good, and nothing that is evil. I have no proof of that either. But it’s a hope that brings me greater joy than the thought of decaying in the ground, so I’m going with it.

Send me your opinions at LParis@netlistings.com