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Saturday, August 26, 2017

A Quiet Faith.

I don't write about this to push my beliefs on anyone. I write it because some people have been curious and because I like to write about all aspects of myself.

I don't talk much about my faith. But I think most of the people who know me know it. I remember Facebook asking me about my religious views; I wrote the only words that made sense to me: I can't help but believe.

As a child, around ten, I had deep doubts. Why should I believe all this? Because my mother did? Because almost everyone I knew did? That wasn't enough for me.

The feeling of faith didn't come. So like love, I made a choice. I chose to believe. Blindly. Without understanding all the questions, contradictions, and terrifying Biblical stories. Without believing myself worthy of such a truth as a loving God. Without knowing what I was getting myself into.

And as I stumbled forward, God stepped toward me. At the moment of my baptism in a church camp swimming pool, I felt the impossible peace of the Holy Spirit, and a miracle happened: God transformed my faith. I believe He blessed me with a child's faith-natural, effortless trust. I think that perhaps God gave me this because He knew how sick I would be, and He knew I would need a faith that wouldn't budge.

In Les Miserables, Jean Valjean sings, "My soul belongs to God; I know I made that bargain long ago." For me, it's that simple.

I don't go to church. Even visiting the church I grew up in is a dreadful ordeal (solely due to the shape of my brain). I'm married to an atheist. I don't read the Bible regularly, but its words fall like crystals through the maze of my mind every day.

Maybe God will judge me for these things; I don't know. My mind is so often like an open diary--a prayer. He has brought me comfort through sorrows I couldn't have imagined. He's saved me in terrible struggles. And He accepts my faith, simple as it is.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

A Kind of Prayer.

I feel perplexed and wordless. But I'd rather say the wrong thing than say nothing.

As a person with panic disorder, I live in great fear every day. I dread what many or most barely notice. And I know how fear cripples my ability to love.

Fear coupled with hate breeds cruelty, violence, and evil. This can splatter far beyond the actual objects of the fear and hate. It can cover everything.

Every person needs to acknowledge his or her fear. His or her hate.

Love has got to be stronger than hate.

Love has got to be bigger than fear.

Love coupled with kindness creates hope.

We need hope desperately.