Believe, and Love

I cling to two words: believe and love.

There are days – stretches of hours – where hanging on them is all I can do. Sometimes I hang from them, because, honestly, I have let go, but something unseen has caught, and holds me up, feet kicking in air, too far from solid ground. But this is a good thing.

In these times, the whole of all the study, all the revelation, all the epiphany of these eight years of Spiritual Transformation is broken and sifted down to these oh-so-hard-to-hold … rewards. Yes, yes, that is what they are – rewards, because they do not come from me. Not at all. And they are things to keep living for.

I have not always had them. I simply did not know them. I believed, in the way I knew the sun would rise each day: I saw it. Its warmth touched me. But I was never quite… held.

I loved, in the way I cared about myself, seeking and taking every pleasant and nice thing and experience: I felt. I tasted. I drank. But I was never quite… full.

And then one day, everything changed, when something that logically can’t be explained happened to me. It wasn’t something I could see or taste or smell or hear or touch. Not exactly. (Although it did literally involve the bell of a timer going off.) It just was, and I could not not believe anymore. And, since then, I’ve been learning about love.

I’ll never be rid of them now: belief and love. They are the only things that make sense of this miraculously beautiful yet pitifully wrong world in which I live. They are the only things I know I can try to do right.

My Dear Friends,
If we don’t feel that we are doing wrong,
we can be without fear when we come to God.
1 John 3:21 (ERV)

So, you see, I can not believe in randomness. I have to believe in purpose for all this. Sadly, I know I can’t prove it to anyone, except that they see the faithfulness of my belief, except that they come to understand: that even when I can’t hold on to belief and love, they are sure to hold on to me.

 

 

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