I choose Faith

(I apologize for the lack of pictures in this post. I hope you can deal.)

It’s been quite a month.

In the world.

And in my life.

There was fear aplenty.

For me personally, it wasn’t the paralyzing kind, but rather the persistent, nagging, soul-sucking kind, known to most as plain ole stress. Stress and fear are two links of the same chain. Put another way, if sarcasm is anger’s ugly sister, then stress is fear’s obnoxious cousin Eddie.

As for the state of the world, my Lord.  I don’t need to rehash everything, but here are a few of the highlights: A lot of terror followed by a lot of Trump. That would be quite enough for one month, but for all the Hillary haters out there, I’ll throw you a bone…I finally watched 13 Hours. It about did me in. We abandoned our people on the frontlines. Of the war. On terror. Left them for dead. We won’t ever know for sure what happened after that, but need we more?

But the month had not exhausted the extent of its fury. Europe was suddenly thrust in turmoil and Rio had yet to contain the certain danger posed, and never mind that when I heard Brexit and Zika in the same sentence, I pictured two cool girls I’d like to know, not epic implications of worldwide panic. We really should be more careful when naming our referendums and viruses.  It distracts from the issues when we get too cute.

When I’m not busy being stressed (or victim of my own misplaced eagerness to make new friends), I’ve been reading through the book of Mark. I love the gospels because I learn a lot about Jesus just by paying attention to how he interacts with people. It’s fascinating. First thing I notice is he is drawn to faith like a heat seeking missile. Calls it out. Shines the spotlight. His ministry flourished in the face of it, floundered without it. Being God, I doubt he “needed” people’s faith to act, but ever teaching, I think he was outlining two very distinct approaches to life.  And Himself.

In faith or with fear.

You want to know who was most afraid?  Those with something to lose. Those having already lost, threw themselves at Jesus as their only hope. And you know what he did?  Asked them what they wanted. Then willingly, gladly gave it to them. Every time.

But those who lived in fear, held their cards close to their chest, hid in the wings, watched while others got healed, got loved, got free of false religion, while all they got was more and more afraid.  Of having less. Of being less. Of meaning less and less.

So they doubled down (such a tell-tale sign of fear). They’d whisper secrets to like minds, devising schemes on how to kill not just momentum, but the man; stop his grace-flow, turn the tide, get advantage back to them.  Afraid to deal directly (or face themselves at all), they hedged each interaction with clever misdirection, preoccupied with how to make this whole thing work out best for them.

Fear is stressful like that.

Now you might say, “hey girl, I’m just trying to pay my bills over here – not stage a coup. (I hear you, friend, me too.) Or, “you’ve got no idea what it’s like inside my marriage.” (oh, I think I might.) Or, “I’ve loved Jesus all my life, and it has not gone well for me.” (that’s the hardest one of all;  when what we thought this life would be, bumps up against what is. I think we all relate.)

Here’s where things get real.

For those who chose the life of faith (according to the book of Mark), when Jesus called they left what they were doing. Mid-task. Just up and followed him. (Uh, sorry dad, you’ll have to finish up without us, said the sons of fishermen everywhere.) When Jesus sent them out in pairs, to work on his behalf, they went with these instructions: no food, no coat, no wife and kids. Just go. (Really? Is that even wise?) And finally, for all the things that did not jibe (first is last and last is first, tell that mountain to move to the sea, the kingdom belongs to children, and stuff like that), they just kept on following, kept on listening, kept on walking with the man who turned the world completely upside down.

So I guess this is what it comes down to:

I can hold to power (through the mastery of each task). Hold to what I want/deserve/have worked real hard for in my marriage, in my life, even in my Jesus seeking, (but at what cost? For grace flows through the open hand). Hold to hurt, misinformation, and ideals that went awry (be it long ago or just the other day).

And in the end, here’s what I’m holding…a heart afraid to trust at all, a body racked with stress and strife, a mind filled full of worthless lists, and draining, endless contemplations.

Or,

I can keep on…being taught;

that every single tiny snag, is not my big undoing. Jesus covered that.

I can keep on…being tossed;

by winds and waves that blow and blow, because I know who they obey. Jesus mastered them.

I can keep on…being changed;

altered by the time well spent with him who modified this life for me. Even Jesus was transfigured.

And in the end here’s what I keep…my real, authentic, lasting life, hidden safely within Christ; my place beside the reigning Prince of perfect peace; the wonder that enraptured, when I first heard the teacher say, “Hey girl, come follow me.”

It was a very active month.

In the world.

And in my life.

But on the other side I see, faith abounding yet in me.