What Kind of Faith are
You Looking For?
“I pray
that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be
strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ
may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in
love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints,
what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge,
so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”
--Ephesians
3:16-19 NRSV
Growing
up as a preacher’s kid, I have heard people talk about the word “faith” my
whole life. Yet, as I grew up in the
Southern Baptist/evangelical bubble, I came to hear the word “faith” in all
sorts of negative ways. Being a person
of “faith” meant condemning people judged as immoral. Having “faith” meant holding to a certain set
of beliefs that didn’t affect a person’s behavior all that much; people with
hurtful behavior continued to act that way regardless of what “faith” they
had. Most of all, I heard “faith” as an
exclusive term used to differentiate us, righteous people from them,
the heathens.
When I began working in the more progressive
denominations of the Disciples of Christ and the United Church of Christ, I was
excited to see what “faith” would look like among people who weren’t interested
in condemning others. I’ve loved finding
churches that were more inclusive, welcoming of everyone and open to diversity
of belief. Yet, I have to admit that “faith”
was often more of an intellectual exercise than something that transforms one’s
life. Furthermore, I’ve found that
Christians who are left of center (myself included) often have an easier time
describing the kind of Christian they are not rather than the kind of Christian
they are. It’s not enough just to be reactive
against the excesses of more conservative forms of Christianity. One has to actually be something and be open
to a certain way of life.
So, I find myself on my journey looking for a “faith”
that is inclusive and grace-filled but also reveals the calling of God upon my
life. I’m looking for “faith” to be more
than doctrine or a set of beliefs, but also an experience of God that demands
more of me every day than my passivity.
I’m looking for faith that is rigorous when it comes to reason and
experience, that is open to mystery, and that means something in a beautiful
and also frightening world.
What kind of “faith” are you looking for?
The apostle Paul or one of his followers write in the
letter to the Ephesians that “faith” means Christ dwells in our hearts so that
we may be “rooted and grounded in love.”
That sounds like a good starting place for us to begin looking for “faith”
that is more than just angry tribalism, an intellectual exercise or a way to
look down on others.
United Church of Christ minister Matt Fitzgerald put
it this way:
Whoever looks a panhandler in the eyes and
says "Hello" is also faithful in much.
Whoever puts his wine glass down to play trains with a two-year old is also faithful in much.
Whoever writes get well notes to church members she doesn't know is also faithful in much.
Whoever let's a teenager make the playlist on a road trip is also faithful in much.
Whoever helped you move the last time you rented a Uhaul is also faithful in much.
Whoever lets his partner choose the corniest movie is also faithful in much.
Whoever indulges her ten year old's vegetarianism is also faithful in much.
Whoever keeps her composure when her elderly mother calls her the wrong name is also faithful in much.
And whoever (ok, me) gets visibly frustrated when the confused old man in front of him at the grocery store takes forever to dig out a checkbook is also faithless in much. After all, if I believe that God loves befuddled old men, I should strain to see their loveliness. And if I believe that Christ has saved me into eternity, I shouldn't care about three extra minutes at the grocery store.
Faith isn't what you say "yes" to in church. It has very little to do with intellectual assent to Christian doctrine. And it isn't lying dormant, waiting to be proved in some unlikely display of heroism. Instead, your faith is in your life right now. In the day-to-day, where Jesus lives.
Whoever puts his wine glass down to play trains with a two-year old is also faithful in much.
Whoever writes get well notes to church members she doesn't know is also faithful in much.
Whoever let's a teenager make the playlist on a road trip is also faithful in much.
Whoever helped you move the last time you rented a Uhaul is also faithful in much.
Whoever lets his partner choose the corniest movie is also faithful in much.
Whoever indulges her ten year old's vegetarianism is also faithful in much.
Whoever keeps her composure when her elderly mother calls her the wrong name is also faithful in much.
And whoever (ok, me) gets visibly frustrated when the confused old man in front of him at the grocery store takes forever to dig out a checkbook is also faithless in much. After all, if I believe that God loves befuddled old men, I should strain to see their loveliness. And if I believe that Christ has saved me into eternity, I shouldn't care about three extra minutes at the grocery store.
Faith isn't what you say "yes" to in church. It has very little to do with intellectual assent to Christian doctrine. And it isn't lying dormant, waiting to be proved in some unlikely display of heroism. Instead, your faith is in your life right now. In the day-to-day, where Jesus lives.
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