Faith and Trust

There’s an exercise of sorts that I do in my religion classes to demonstrate the difference between belief and faith.  I ‘pick on’ a student who I know and I tell the class that there is a difference between saying I believe that Abby exists, and that I believe IN Abby.  To prove she exists I can point to her presence in her chair, her activity taking notes, her comments to me and to her classmates.  There is ample evidence of her existence; there’s not much debate about that.  To say, though, that I believe IN Abby is to say something quite different.  It is to say that I trust her to do more than simply exist, to take her place in the world, to create meaningful relationships with others, to offer the work of her mind and her hands for the benefit of the world she exists in.  I trust her to be and do much more than simply occupy her chair in my classroom.

So, how does this work with God?  Well, much theological ink has been spilled over how to summon sufficient evidence to prove that God simply exists.  Some point to the expanse of the cosmos and its beauty and perceive the hand of a Creator at work.  Others note the persistent claims of an Ineffable Presence, known by many names in many cultures, as evidence that such a Presence must exist.  One may also credit God with miraculous events, things that seem to happen with no other possible cause but divine intervention.  Well, as this Presence itself remains intangible the validity of the evidence remains in the mind of the beholder, so to speak.  But what does it mean to take that further step and say one believes IN that Presence, that I believe in God, as the Creed states?

How does one come to trust in the Unseen Deity, the Ineffable Other?  Let’s be honest, it’s a big lift.  It’s a bit like taking that last leap off the cliff, and trusting that one will be caught by someone somehow even if one does not know in advance how or where or if that landing will take place.  The way this kind of faith has worked in my life consists of having trusted God to provide care and guidance during difficult decisions and transitions in my life.  Some of those decisions were terrible, by the way.  Some had to be undone (think: divorce), some had consequences that proved to be disastrous.  And yet, somehow, there seemed to be a force, an energy, a presence that guided, that pointed without pushing, that indicated quietly and gently that things could be different, could be better, could indeed be wonderful, whether I could see that option or not.  So I hesitantly, awkwardly took a step in that direction.  Maybe two steps because, what the hell, it can’t get worse!  Believing in God meant trusting that if I follow that gentle urge it really will get better.  And I will confess, it worked.  Not perfectly – some of the hurts still hurt – but enough better that some of them can be redeemed in the form of empathy for those whose hurts may be similar. 

Faith, then, is so much more than belief about God, it is the practice of trusting that God is actively taking the hash we make of our lives and converting it into something incredibly glorious.  God is doing just that in this very moment, even in the midst of great suffering, and invites us to trust in the divine capacity to do the same for each of us.