Finding My Faith: The Beginning

As I sit here writing this morning, the sky out the front window is pink. Or maybe orange. Actually it’s somewhere in between the two, like a color from Heaven that doesn’t exist on Earth. It’s pretty amazing.

God continues to surprise me. (Really, why should I be surprised? He’s God.)

This morning I got an email from a friend who said she really related to my recent post on faith. (This wasn’t the first time, but it was written in a way that really struck me.) It’s weird to share something so personal only to find that someone else feels the same way.

Sometimes I wonder why God made me the way He did. I’ve never felt like a complete mistake, but like maybe (as I so often do) He overlooked the details. Why, when I have the ability to express myself through writing, do I have such a hard time articulating my thoughts and feelings verbally? Why do I want so desperately to do things differently, and I find myself doing the same old thing? Why am I so totally driven by emotions? Why do fear and anxiety have such a stronghold in my life? Will I ever be free of them or will they haunt me forever?

Since my dad died in December, I’ve had to face the overwhelming fear I’ve been running from my whole life – the death of my parents. Over the last year of trying to make sense of it, I don’t think I’ve made much progress. I still am confused why I prayed more fervently than I ever have only to watch him die. I still struggle to understand the point of prayer. I don’t understand how a God who created and desires intimacy still feels so far away. Why do I cling to something that, in the darkest hours of my life, didn’t seem to make much difference?

I guess it’s in the face of these questions that faith really becomes faith. When there is no evidence and it seems like anyone in their “right” mind would give it up, stubbornly I still believe. I still believe that God is good and loves me. I still believe that He’ll make good on His promises that death is not the end and I’ll see my dad again. I still believe that He hears my prayers.

I don’t think I’ve found faith yet. I’m just beginning to see what it might look like in my life. Until I questioned my faith, there was no way to know if it actually existed. Because what I thought was faith wasn’t.

Faith isn’t what I do on a daily basis or how I think. It’s what’s left when there’s nothing else to hold on to.

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