On Faith

Remaining Faithful in the Quieter Times   (May 2006)

Not always will we be on the mountaintop, experiencing to the fullest degree the near-tangible presence of God.  We cannot humanly muster the strength, nor the sheer determination of will, to prolong that experience any further than God Himself intends.

And so we find ourselves faced with the challenge—and it is, definitely, a challenge—to remain faithful to God and full of His spirit during the “normal days” of our existence.  Certainly, Christ still loves us, and he is no farther from us than when we felt closest to him.  But the milieu of life gets in the way and we neglect that fact.  Soon it seems as if the ardor of our faith were some distant memory of younger times.  We are eaten up by the world and its distractions, consumed by worry and fear about things indefinitely beyond our control but fully seized by our conscience.  We search for God and strive for faith, but find ourselves weak and empty.  The days are dark and gloomy, even in the bright sun, and the only thing that gets us through is the still-small voice of hope that beats in our breast.

But then, as some sweet little melody that gets stuck in our head, the realization of God’s love returns—be it in a gorgeous moonlit sky or the fullest breeze on our back.  It overwhelms and beckons us back to the blissful faith we first knew when Christ claimed our lives.  Everywhere we look we see God—in each place and every face.  And His voice tells us that He has never been away, never been farther than the hairs on our head.  Just as sure as summer and right as rain, God returns His faithfulness to us.  

By experiencing God’s presence anew, we are restored to the truth of who Christ is.  It is inescapable and unavoidable that Jesus Christ loves us, a fact we must own up to—even though it is much easier to believe otherwise.  It pains us to think that Christ could love us, given who we are and what we have done; yet this is precisely why he loves us.  Christ’s unconditional love for us breaks us, and it must.  Only then can we truly live in him.

This does not mean that we will not be faced with seasons of spiritual darkness.  As Christ was sent into the wilderness, so too will we.  But just as he went before us, Christ also goes with us into that wilderness; his love carries us.  No matter what the wilderness is that we face—the “normal days” of our jobs, our responsibilities, our debts and our dues—we no longer have to face those challenges alone:  the Lord Jesus is with us at every moment. 

If we are faced with solitude, let us celebrate the time we can focus on our relationship with Christ.  If we are enveloped by chaos, let us thank our God that Christ guides our footsteps through the storm.  And if we are given time with the people we adore, let us only love them more in the way Christ has taught us.  So then will our daily, “normal” lives become a faithful response to Christ’s love. 

Amen.

(–written at Montreat & inspired by C.S. Lewis)

 

Meditation   (October 2008 )

For there is no separation, no condemnation, in our Lord Jesus Christ, for he did not die for the strong, but for the weak; did not rise for the bold, but for the meek.  Christ lives and reigns for all, each and every one, regardless of race, position, or authority.  No matter who you are or what you have done, Jesus Christ adores you.  He waits for you.  He lives for you, so you will live in him.

(inspired by “Here I Am, Lord”)

 

Memories   (July 2009)

It is, with some sadness, that I tell you the fact that life moves on upon life’s way.  After greater experiences, more sacred moments, unforgetable encounters, the effort we exert in prolonging those highs is, inevitably, exhausted by the details of life.  Here upon my desk, under my left hand, sits the manual I used last week during the singlemost-moving youth conference I have ever attended.  In it are names and notes and proofs of the sacredness of that experience; yet, in a day or two, bills will come due, and I will have to move that manual off my desk.
 
I think I began writing, in the sixth grade, to chronicle this phenomenon, the experience of bliss transposed upon the necessity of motion.  How do we respond to these stimulae, these incongruous events?  Do we pause upon them at all, to breathe in deeply their scent; or do we simply put them away and move on?  I do not believe I can answer that question for you; I believe we all must answer it for and about ourselves.  But for me, I have answered, and have filled every empty page for the last nineteen years with my response.
 
And so, again, I tell you my sad news that life, of its own course, will not hold open the bookmark upon your sacred days:  if you dare and dream and desire to remember them, do as I and record in your heart and mind their every detail; drink in their substance and style and maybe some small detail, like a faint and pleasing perfurme; make out your memory to come back to as proof of Holiness and evidence of the Divine in your life.  As I did, hone and sharpen and perfect your method, teach yourself your trade, in order to fully and rightfully remember these moments as they deserve.
 
So then, when your manual loses its place for the bills cluttering your desk, you will not misplace the reasons that book matters to you.
 
Amen.
 
(from my journal, with dedications to Montreat Youth Conference Week V 2009: Small Group 36, my fellow leaders, Planning Team, and to all those others who know what I’m talking about.)    M B H 
 
 
 
Dancing For God   (September 2009)
 
“Christ is the music of God; what we see and hear of God.”

 —Dr. Miroslav Volf, noted theologian and professor, Yale University 

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