Faith

I am a man of faith, but not very much.  I was and in some ways still am a pastor, even though I have retired.  As such faith is important to me.  Still, in every community where I have served there have been many members of my churches whose faith far exceeded any faith I’ve ever had.  I take some solace in the parable of the mustard seed.  Apparently one needs but a small amount of faith to be a Christian and to be of some use to the kingdom of God.

Nevertheless, I have always been bothered by my inability to deepen, or expand, my trust in God’s grace.  I have preached it, certainly.  After all, sermons are not rooted simply in the human experience but in divine revelation.  I preach about what God has promised, not about my own capacity to believe the promises.  In fact, my sermons have always left me wanting more.  I tell stories of faithful people.  I find in the scriptures testimony of miracles and wonders.  And I long for experiences which will confirm the promises, but when I catch myself in that longing I realize that I have fallen into a trap.  

And what is the trap?  The trap is desire for proof.  If I want experiences to confirm God’s promises, then what I want is for God to prove what God has said.  And as soon as I ask for proof, then I am no longer a man of faith.  In the epistle to the Hebrews Chapter 11 we find this mystery, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  Not proof, you see.  Things “hoped for.”  Things “not seen.”  As soon as we ask for proof we have fallen into the hands of Satan who tempted Jesus in the same way.  With the three temptations in the wilderness Satan was goading Jesus into asking God for proofs.  But Jesus would have none of it.  He trusted in what the scriptures had to say and left it at that.  He would not put God to the test.

Recently, the pastor of an evangelical church died of COVID-19.  He had declared from the outset of the directives for social distancing that he was not going to close his church, something to the effect that he would keep preaching until he was in jail or in the hospital.  His congregation thought his convictions came out of a deep faith that God would not let anything happen to him.  But I think he was putting God to the test.  And when one puts God to the test, that is not faith.  I am sorry the man died.  But his foolish disregard for the facts of the coronavirus pandemic was not the way to witness to the faith he had.

Still, I wish I had more faith.  If faith is the assurance of things hoped for, I wish I had more assurance.  If faith is the conviction of things not seen, I wish I had more conviction.  But after being a Christian for most of my sixty-three years I have not experienced a dramatic growth in my faith.  So, I just keep plugging along with what little faith I have.  And with it comes this assurance:  that Jesus Christ is the most compelling figure in all of human history and if I could look him in the face I believe I would see in his eyes an indescribable love . . . for me.  And with my faith comes this conviction:  that Jesus wants me to do my best to be a citizen of the kingdom of love that he declared was already breaking into the world in his ministry.

I don’t have very much faith.  But what I do have keeps me grateful and obedient.  I suppose I could be more thankful than I am.  And I know I could be more obedient.  Like I said, my faith is tiny, like a mustard seed.  But maybe that’s enough.  Still, I’ll keep asking for more.