Have you ever prayed a prayer like this:
Dear Father,
I come to you with this salutation — aware that I don’t really understand much of who you are or why I greet you in this particular way. There are more than a few times when it feels like you are more of an assembly of ideas, than anything else. And when that occurs, I feel aware that I need to pick something, as an access point to that conflation of ideas about what and who you are, God. I wonder what that means about me and my ideas about you.
My tradition has made me feel that such ambiguity (about you) indicates this kind of honesty is a problem; because lack of clarity about you, God, must translate as an imperceivable faith (at the very least a lack of it). Imperceivability about faith is a big no-no. Faith should be obvious, overt, unwavering....
At least, we're talking though, God...aren't we?
But, can we stop for a minute and consider what faith really is?
Obviously, this is no small task (maybe that's why we prefer quick and simple versions of faith definitions); the ages are full of people — faithful people, by the way — who have asked this question.
So, for one thing, I'm not alone...when I ask such a question from time to time.
And that, by the way, is a critical ingredient. Faith is not a constant (nothing is); it ebbs and flows, like everything else in life. Sometimes, I am full of faith...the crystal-clear kind. At other times, I scrape around for even shreds of it. What of the sublime is not like this? Joy? Kindness? Mercy. Even, love. Everything is a full range of experience. It has been said, "There is a time for everything..." — a time even for things that are polar opposites of each other (or appear to be).
Faith is like a condition, a state of being. Something is known; something that is unknown. Held; and also illusive. It involves trust, believing in something that doesn't always feel verifiable. It has an object (or, if you prefer, a subject).
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