Ye of Little Faith

I was recently asked, “Is that the first thing you’ve received by faith?” by a friend after recounting a story of how I waited and waited for a pair of shoes to go on final markdown. (In the midst of the sale at one point, I was told there were no more of this shoe left. I returned to later to find a pair, in my size. Thus my elation!) It was an issue and purchase from the beginning I felt I needed to wait and pray on, and to trust and have faith. To my friend’s question, I thought nothing of it. “No, my whole life is a product of faith. Not the first…,” I responded, brushing it off and thinking nothing of the question again. Until today.

GBU students set up an informational stand for the student activity kick-off this morning. Replete with speakers and music, books, a band-dessine (adult cartoon book), sign-up sheet, and informational posters, students rotate throughout the day sitting at the table offering information to all who pass. I dropped by after lunch to visit with Corinne and bring some candies to pass out. Nari was all smiles engaging students as they passed. Natacha skipped back and forth from Mozaik’s (African student group) table and GBU, introducing students to both. Corinne munched her lunch and invited passing students to sign up for emails and explained more what the group is. Clement discussed the band-dessine with passing students and another Clement arrived as I was leaving. Nari took the information of the Catholic student group’s representatives so we can hopefully organize a joint activity at some point this semester. Armel (do you remember him from camp? he’s back!) dropped by to check in between classes and say hello. The sign up sheet was filled on the front and new names were being added to the back. This all happened in the course of a little over an hour.

Several students, one in particular, showed little interest when they realized what we were. In their eyes I could see avoidance. Others were more open to hearing what students had to say, even though in the end they said it really didn’t interest them “but thanks.” Still others listened well and decided, sure, I’ll sign up. One young student Nari spoke with particularly struck me. He and two friends arrived for the Mozaik table but not before ever bubbly outgoing Nari asked if they were interested in signing up on the email list. She looked at one student asking, as he seemed to not be too engaged, “Are you Muslim?” He was and as she responded, “you’re welcome to come,” and he reached for the Bible. He flipped through it with his friend and turned to Nari, “I’ll sign up, this interests me.”

Between the fearful faces, the hesitant, the disinterested or curious, the open, the warm and friendly, I sat in my chair struck by two realities. One, the GBU students have no choice but to be bold in their sharing and faith. Absolutely every GBU student I saw interacted verbally with students passing, friends or unknown, and kindly and openly invited any and all. I went to Wheaton College, a small, Christian liberal arts school, and I LOVED every minute there and don’t for one minute wish it to be different. I don’t think I would be in France in my current capacity if it weren’t for Wheaton. But there are moments, such as this one today, when I wish during those four years I would have had more need and press to be bold in my faith as these students. Their circumstances have equipped them in a way mine did not. Two, I lack faith and I cannot honestly say that I have trusted in God to provide by faith the way my friend asked of me earlier or the way I see these students being bold in their simply inviting. As the particular Muslim student flipped through the Bible then said “this interests me,” I started praying for all the names on the sign-up sheet, that GBU students would be blessed to see God move and call their friends to himself.

As I walked home I kept praying and turned after to reflecting on what I had prayed. Lord, do I really trust that indeed you can deliver on what I and others am asking? Do I have faith that the young man looking at the Bible might one day be your son? Do I have faith not to just entrust others to you but to keep coming back asking for them? (Luke 11:5-13)

I further thought on how the Enlightenment in all of its splendor (note smidgen of sarcasm) has rendered much of France skeptical and fearful of anything out of the box. I recalled the cartoon of a blind man walking with a stick saying, “I only believe in what I can see.” I thought about our human need for proof and reason and how even the most illogical folk, i.e., French, demand it to believe in anything. Then I thought about myself. I’m a disciple of Jesus. I believe his life and words mean something more than just a good way to live. I pray fervently and often. But I lack faith. I don’t honestly believe in the way of bold faith that Scripture and Christ’s life calls me to do. Did my shoes excite me only because I saw God provide out of faith and prayers, or because I never go out on a limb to have the kind of faith that they required? Do I have faith in my prayers, through incessant pounding on God’s door, in how I wait and trust, in bold words I speak, in releasing that which I know God, and not I, is doing?

Recently I’ve been spending my devotional time in Isaiah, which I think is perhaps my favorite book of the Old Testament book. It does wonders for blowing the top off of God, off of how we envision nations called to him, off of how the Israelites imagined their Jesus would come, off of the Gospel, redemption, justice, and grace. I have a nice theological treatise formed in my head from all of this and it really is—it’s nice. I can handle it in my heart and in my head. It challenges me in who I see God to be and how I see his world. Problem is, “nice” doesn’t get anything done. “Nice” does not transform my sweet prayers into persistent, loud, annoying, I’m not leaving until you give me what I’m asking for knocking. “Nice” doesn’t flip my vision of each and every human being and soul and broken system upside down and see them as beloved daughters and sons and restored. “Nice” keeps me safe as well as them. Try as hard as I might to not live or think in terms of a humanly boxed God, here he goes again, showing me that indeed I have boxed him and his ways in and that my faith needs some stretching. My friend was right to ask, “Is that the first thing you’ve received by faith?” While it’s not, I cannot honestly my faith is as strong as I would like to think it.

With all of this rolling around in my head, I came home and directly went the first two places I often go—Bible and music. John 1:1-18 always proves helpful for me. In particular today I noted, “In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”; “the true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world”; “he came to his own, and his own people did not receive him, but to all who did receive him…he gave the right to become children of God.” I turned to Grits and their song Believe and prayed through the truths they sing—

“…It’s hard to conceive
What the mind can’t comprehend
And harder to believe
What the eyes can't understand
We look to theory, philosophies and thought
For a sure foundation
In a belief we once sought
While the shadow of truth
Cast an image so clear
The closer it gets
We reject it out of fear
If we really wanted truth
We would give our lives for it
Walk in its direction of light…”

I may not be a science-oriented, show me the proof or else type of person. I may also not be the most skeptical or visionless because I was born optimistic. I may not be turning from the GBU table in disinterest or mistrust. But perhaps my prayers and actions resemble them just the same. Too soft. Too safe. Too doable. Too manageable. See, I think God wants the unmanageable and is challenging me personally to come to him and go out in faith, trusting that in fact, he can do the unthinkable. I think he also wants his welcome mat worn out with my scrubby (new ☺) shoe prints. I really believe he sees every person on this globe as he saw unfaithful Israel in the book Hosea, as Ruhama (“she has received mercy”) and Ammi (“my people”); but he’s waiting for his people to do something about it! Throughout Scripture we see patterns of God, yes God, wrestling with his own judgments and punishments, with his hunger for righteousness but his simultaneous acquiescence to love. (If there ever was one to throw a curve ball, it’s Yahweh.) And in the midst, he plants his people, individuals and those he has gathered, to come to him and remind him of his promises. It’s not that he’s forgetful. It’s not that he is doesn’t know how to make up his mind. It’s that this non-laissez-faire God has placed within his regulated spiritual economy free agents called to live and act by faith, in their prayers, in their being wed to a prostitute, in their pleading as David, do not forget me or turn away, in trusting that there is a High Priest interceding and a Holy Spirit turning our illogical prayers into done deals. Do I have the faith then, to join with the witness of Scripture and history, to ask, nay, demand his opening rigid minds and chilled hearts to his liberating love? I think that’s what France needs, at least here in Compiegne. Perhaps it is the least God would do.

Pray as I grow in faith and learn to pound the door.