Faith—do you have enough of it? Sometimes I wonder if I do too.
I love proof and promises, sure things, highlighters, and plans, which makes it difficult for me to trust this thing called faith. I speak to God, echoing my hopes, concerns, requests and gratitude into space, and I wonder: did you get that, God? Can you hear me?
We’ve been spoiled by iPhones that immediately assure us when people have read our messages and taught that all true things should be empirically proven.
But faith—indefinite, messy, necessary faith—defies the boundaries of logic. It is grasping and embracing an unseen truth, being sure of what we can merely hope for (Hebrews 11:1 NIV).
When did you first start to have faith, even just a little?
I was a chubby eight year old at Camp Geneva in western Michigan, a place where kids learn about Jesus, eat peppermint patties, and earn badges for plunging into icy Lake Michigan at dawn for a week straight. A kind, college-student counselor shared her love for Jesus with me, and by the end of the week, I knew I wanted Him by my side forever. I had faith, a crumb of faith, even when I didn’t understand it all.
God ran with it.