The Mysteries of Faith

What is ‘faith? That is a broad and undefined question. Strictly defined it is: “complete trust, belief or confidence in someone or something.”

In the Christian context, we apply that word ‘faith’ to our belief in a God that is unseen, and to some degree, unknown to us.  We are especially challenged in our faith when we profess a triune God who is distinctly revealed in three persons (Father, Son, & Holy Spirit) but is still unified as one God.  So we can’t tell anyone how a triune God works…but I believe we can confidently say why it works. 

Yes, it takes elements of belief, trust and confidence in God, even though we have precious little empirical evidence to prove it…at least scientifically.  But we roll all those things of belief, trust and confidence into one thing we call ‘faith’.  And we cling to that faith.

However, for some, our faith doesn’t make sense.  Some might even say that absent cold hard facts of God, we have a ‘blind’ faith, literally a faith that is without seeing; that we have a faith that isn’t rooted in reality.  Some say “If there is a God, then let him show himself.” Others cannot believe in a God who does not prevent evil, pain and hardship.  The lack of ‘faith’ is found in the unresolved question: “If there is a God, then why would he let this happen?”

Why doesn't God do something obvious, like paint his
name on these mountains? Oh wait...maybe he did.

As a pastor, people ask me these questions; and as an ‘anointed’ representative of God, they expect answers. I preface my response that for the first 37 years of my life, I held the same perspective.  I could never detect any empirical evidence of God.  From my vantage point, God didn’t reveal himself to the world, let alone act in it.  Ergo, there wasn’t a God.

So I can empathize with the perspective that faith isn’t a reasonable and rational worldview. So I get it why faith in God doesn’t make total sense.

But then I challenge people to look at it from the opposite perspective. 

If our objection to God is that he doesn’t reveal himself to us, that he doesn’t ‘prove’ himself to us. I like to ask “how then should he do it?”  If we begin with the assumption that God wants to be known (and I assume that he does), then what obstacles stand in the way of an infinite God of the universe trying to communicate with finite beings in physical world?  How does God cross that which separates us in order to make himself known?

I remind people that we’ve been in this predicament before…we just don’t remember it.

Think of it this way: It’s undisputed scientific fact that everyone who has ever been born at one time existed in a ‘different’ world before they came into this one.  That ‘world’ was our mother’s

We were all here at one point.

womb.  We can trace our beginnings back to a time and space when an egg and a sperm came together in our mother’s womb, and then wonders of nature took over, and we started to be formed into a person. 

And while we are in our mother’s womb, we reach a point of developed where we start pushing against our momma’s belly.  We are also become sentient enough to react to things that are going on outside of our mother’s placenta.  In short, we are in alive.  It may be a rudimentary form of what we now consider alive, but we are alive none the less.

But here is the thing…we had no idea about the larger world that existed beyond the womb.  

To apply the same questions we do to God, could we have posed the same inquiries to our own mom?  While we were in the womb, could we have said: “If there is a mom, then let her show herself to me!”  Or while experiencing the exponential physical growth, which has to be painful, did we cry out: “How can there be a mom when I am suffering this kind of pain!”

Bottom line, how could or would we know we had a mom while we were in her womb?

Now that we have gone through the birth process, grown up and learned how to read and think, those questions are obviously nonsensical.  We understand the pragmatic proof of pregnancy.  But we need to keep in mind that we dismiss those questions only because we now have the advantage of standing outside the womb.  We have the benefit of hindsight, which is always 20/20.   

But we knew none of this when we were in the womb. 

Hello! Can you hear me?!?!

Imagine for a moment if we had the ability to communicate with a baby in the womb.  How would we respond to the questions of existence and pain?  I’m guessing when it came to the issue of existence, we’d probably be saying something along the lines of: “Your mom surrounds you.  She can’t reveal herself because you are inside of her.”  As for the physical pain caused rapid exponential growth in the womb, we could only offer reassurance that kind of painful growth is necessary preparation for life outside of the womb.  As painful as it is, without it we’d die. 

But obviously we can’t do that kind of communication.  Even though babies in the womb are separated from this world only by the thickness of their mother’s skin, the two shall remain separated until the time is right for them to leave that ‘world’ and enter this one.  The best that a mother can do is tenderly rub their belly and quietly sing lullabies to the one insider of her.

If all that is true; if all of that is reality; could we say the same about God?

Maybe having ‘faith is an exercise of humility to admit that perhaps the process isn’t quite done yet.  Maybe ‘faith’ is the perspective that we don’t have enough information to make completely informed judgments about what is happening to us.  Maybe ‘faith’ is realizing that this world isn’t as good as it gets. Maybe ‘faith’ is an enduring patience for being birthed from our mother’s womb into God’s own womb. Maybe ‘faith’ is the realization that God surrounds us to the extent we can’t see it because we don’t yet have the benefit of standing outside of it. Maybe the personal pain and societal evil of the world is similar to the exponential physical growth that happened inside the womb, with the difference being that it’s not about our bodily development, but our spiritual formation.

In the end, maybe ‘faith’ is nothing more than preparing us for the ‘world’ that we are separated from just by the thinness of God’s skin. 

Keep the faith,

"Ehh...You Get Used to It."

This picture doesn't do
justice to the actual view. 

I am greeted by this sight most days when I drive down my street and turn the corner to leave my neighborhood.  Because our house is roughly 7 miles east of where the Rocky Mountains start popping out of the plains, I can see both the intricate details of the smaller ‘front range’ hills, as well as the white capped majesty of the taller mountains of the ‘back range.’  It is an idyllic vista, especially on the mornings when the rising sun splashes it with hues of red and orange against the backdrop of a deep blue sky.   In fact, you’d think most humans would label it “awe inspiring”. 

And it is. 

However, the sad reality is that these days, when I see this sight, awe and inspiration are not on the docket of things I experience.

Why?

How is it that God’s beautiful creation that is especially apparent here where I live in Boulder, Colorado, is unable to inspire awe within me?  How can it be that the sight of the craggy slabs of the Flatirons sitting askew to the horizon, looking to all the world as if some huge toddler had been at play, imaginatively building castle walls with flat stones that had been laying about, not make me feel a sense of reverence?  After all, does not Romans 1:20 say: For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God.

Yet, so frequently my mind is somewhere else, focused on something else.  When my eyes scan the horizon and drinks in the sight, the only processing going on in my brain is trying to determine the weather.  The author(s) of Psalms frequently speak about the heavens and the earth declaring the glory of God, but my only interest is whether or not the heavens will open up and rain that day because I suddenly realize that I failed to bring a rain coat. 

Is there a problem here? Yes.  But I don’t think the problem is God. I’m pretty sure the problem is me.  Actually, I know the problem is me.

It reminds me of a trip I took 8 years ago with my wife to the Hawaiian Island of Oahu. We were celebrating our 20^th wedding anniversary. We stayed on the east side of the Island with a close and dear friend whose husband is a helicopter pilot in the Marines.  We had the privilege of wandering Pacific beaches that were almost uninhabited because the Marine base is closed to civilians.  We also toured the sights; ate the food; enjoyed the atmosphere. The sun, the climate, the ocean…all of it added up to the descriptive word paradise that is frequently associated with Hawaii. 

But there was one moment in particular that brought something into sharp focus for me.  It happened when I was playing a round on the base’s golf course.  Many of the holes run parallel to the Pacific.  On one of them, I stood on the tee box that was on top of

The tee box on the
14th hole...if memory serves me.

a bluff and gave incredible views in every direction.  To my right, sapphire waters speckled with whitecaps stretched off to the horizon.  Straight ahead, the verdant cliffs of Oahu towered in the distance, reflecting a spectrum of green vegetation.  Above me, puffy low lying clouds scuttled along in the tropical wind before they collided with the cliff heights and turned into a light grey mist. Below where I stood, the ocean waves were crashing into the shore, echoing sounds of its relentless quest to pound coral into sand.  The spray tossed up the kind of salty and alluring fragrance that only a tropical ocean can.  All in all, it was a full body experience of the spectacular beauty of the creation of God…and I was overwhelmed in awe and reverence.

At that moment, as I gazed at the splendor, I said out loud to my two playing partners, both of who were life time residents of the island: “How wonderful it must be to wake up in this beautiful place every morning and see this gorgeous scenery.”  One of the men, who was busily lining up his tee shot, shot back a reply without even looking up from his petty task: “Ehh…you get used to it.” 

“Ehh…you get used to it.”

I think that statement can epitomize how we embrace our faith over time.  The first time the power of grace of Jesus enters our life, we are bowled over with awe.  We are infused with reverence.  Excitement courses through our veins and we want to run around yelping with delight over the inherent beauty of forgiveness, love, joy, and peace that emanates from God and being citizens of his Kingdom.  It is like the gorgeous views of the Rocky Mountain; the whole body experiences of a tropical paradise. But maybe over time that excitement fades because we simply ‘get used to it.’  Like my golfing partners in Hawaii, the beauty slowly morphs into the mundane and routine. 

But this happens to us humans.  They say that familiarity breeds contempt.  Maybe we don’t slide that far down in our faith, but perhaps we’ll slip to the point of apathy or indifference.  The amazing reality that the God of the universe came to dwell with us in the person of Jesus Christ is something we have gotten so used to it that we no longer see the beauty or appreciate the wonder.

So what are we to do?

I have a tactic that works for me, whether I am talking about trying to revitalize my faith or re-appreciate the beautiful landscape that surrounds me: “Renew by getting a different view.”  For instance, when I start to take the mountains here in Colorado for granted, I search out a different location to appreciate them.  I might take a hike on a new trail, or simply go to a different part of the state.  But I know this much...whenever I see the same mountains from a new perspective, I always find that I am rejuvenated.  I try to do the same with my faith.  I read and study something about the faith that is unfamiliar to me, or worship in a different setting, or serve the Kingdom in new context.  In other words, I strive to intentionally position myself to the Lord in a way that feels new and fresh.

It is then when the awe of God returns, and the "Ehh...You get used to to it" feeling fades. I am reminded of real beauty of my faith...and on most morning as I turn that corner of my street and see those mountains yet again, that is exactly what I need. 

Keep the faith,