If I have one trap that fall into it is the idea that I can figure everything out given enough time, energy, and sufficient resources. I like to think that I can take just about any problem, break it down into bite sized chunks and chew through it a piece at a time until there is nothing left of the quandary except a few crumbs waiting to be swept up.
Over the past few weeks, I have spent a lot of time delving into the objections raised against my faith. I have read articles and posts that support my view with no verifiable evidence to be seen, and I have read scientific articles that refute my faith without an ounce of grace for the ineffable. I read with the intent of proving myself wrong. I like the challenge of submerging myself in the chaotic seas of conflicting ideas and values, and then fighting my way back to the surface in hopes of catching my breath and experiencing that glow of blissful self-affirmation.
But sometimes those waters are deep and murky, and I have a moment of panic as I realize that there may not be any easy answers to be found – that all those opposing views that I let wash over me could drown my faith if I am not careful.
It is in those moments that I have to remember that faith isn’t about having all the answers. It isn’t about having it all figured out, the pieces and the parts carefully wrapped up and labeled with the appropriate supporting evidence, or even being able to make sense of it all.
Faith is about knowing there is a God who is smarter than I will ever be, whose ways are not my ways, and whose thoughts definitely are not my thoughts. Faith is about being okay with mystery, allowing that great unknown to sweep over you, and fill you with awe – not panic.
I am learning that none of this contingent on me knowing all the answers, and I don’t have to make sense of or defend every aspect of what I believe. If that was all there was to it, I would be worshipping my own intellect and not God. And I hate having to relinquish that control, I like the illusion of “knowing” and perfect sense. I like the comfort of fooling myself into thinking that all this world needs is one more brilliantly articulated argument for celebrating my King as I do, but the truth is that was never what the world needed.
Men and women far smarter and wiser than I have already shared dazzling and brilliant insights that illustrate the beauty of my faith, and they are seldom heard. Prophets, priests, preachers, and kings have declared truth, but truth often falls on deaf ears and hardened hearts. Even the words of Jesus inspired contempt and violence because they made no sense to many who heard his voice.
But what did the world hear when he spoke? What element of his life still rings through the ages, even among those who deny his divinity while offering some respect for his humanity?
For many all they know of him was that he loved. In the face of those who wished him silent, he loved. When he was mocked, called a heretic, and condemned for blasphemy, he loved. His message never weakened or softened, he never wavered in before his critics, or spurned his calling when it demanded all of him. Instead, he continued to love with such great depth and integrity that even those who oppose his worship will grant him that honesty.
Did he have it all figured out during his time here as a man? I don’t think so. He talks of the Father alone knowing the day and hour of his return, he wept at the grave of a friend, and he sweat blood as he faced his destiny on that cross. To me these things speak of a man who chose submission to his God and Father, not of one who knew that a friend would cast off grave clothes at his word, or that the agony of crucifixion would give way to the glories of resurrection.
Am I right? Do I have it figured out? I don’t know. Scholars have debated this point for millennia, but I like to think that he knows what it feels like to wonder, to fear, even to doubt. Selfish of me? Completely, but it makes my not knowing feel a little less overwhelming to think that he knows what I face in this life.
The only question of any importance that remains – is can I follow in his example? Can I learn to be at peace with the mystery of faith? Can I grieve with my friends while never doubting the promises of my Lord? Can I question who I am, what I have been called to do and agonize over the cost while still acting in obedience? Can I love so deep that even when other’s become enraged with my words that my life will be remembered not as a tribute to my intellect, but celebrated for the love I showed with such integrity that it cannot be denied?
For if I can do these things - if I can submerge myself in his presence and allow myself to be swept up in the waves of his love, I will have truly lived a life sharing in the experience of my Lord than if I had solved every enigma of faith, and I will know the joy of awe as greater than a God who submits to demands to be solved.
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