We’re about to go through some hard times. I know that because yesterday I watched the news for too many hours and listened to enough gloom to make me panic. I had to turn off the TV and search for some faith based direction. I felt led to a particular article, the contents of which confirmed that guidance to me. Although I did not utter any words aloud I felt that the concerns of my heart were heard and comfort was provided.
There are some who consider people of faith to be naive and brain washed, unable to think for themselves. Those people have been on my mind today. There are as many ways to approach a problem as there are people. There is no one size fits all. How we solve and survive the issues that confront us will be done in a way that fits in with our beliefs, values and our experiences. I do not presume to adjudicate anyone’s methods. I just simply do not remember a time when I did not temper my own understanding of the mysteries and hardships of life with the hope and belief that there was something grander going on. That, then, is my north star. Without it, I do not know how to navigate. And so I am curious about those who move through life under only their own guidance. Especially in times like these.
Because if there is no bigger purpose, no reason for any of it, then much of life is just hard. We’re born, we struggle, there are moments of pleasure and joy, we struggle, have joy, and then we die. There is no connection or explanation for any of it.
I’m an introvert. An observer and an overthinker. I’m a cynic and a bit of a jerk. I am not a joiner. So honestly, sometimes religion is a lot of effort for me. Way too peopley. Lots of meetings. Sometimes it’s too much.
But I do like God. I like that basically he says, you must love me, more than you love yourself, and you have to love your neighbour at least as much as you love yourself. And then if you trust me, I’m going to take the wheel and take you someplace better than any place you’ve ever been. There will be some beautiful and terrible stops along the way. Turbulence is guaranteed. But while we’re getting there, you can rest in the fact that you are loved. That you are worth the sacrifice of my son. That this world and everything in it was made for your benefit.
So, while it doesn’t cure me of being a jerk, it does make me try harder not to be one. It gives me love and compassion for others and a knowledge that we are all connected. It makes me concerned with outcomes. It gives me hope and something noble to strive for. Sometimes it gives me someone to be mad at. Often it gives me strength beyond my own. I have a reliable partner. I am assured that I matter and so does everyone else. I know that my actions and behavior are consequential and it gives me resilience when giving up would be much easier. Mostly, it answers the question, what’s the point?
What we’re looking at in the near future is daunting. Everyone will have different mountains to climb. Families may face hardships they could never have anticipated and for which they are unprepared. It looks pretty bleak. I know in the coming weeks I will falter. I freely admit I can’t do it alone. There is a quote that says, “Tell your mountains about your God”. I know which one is bigger and more formidable. For anyone who has gone through high school (and life) with a sibling that was big enough and bad enough to protect your flank, you know you’ve walked your walk with a certain swagger. It might not have been swagger you’ve earned, but it’s swagger that was only a phone call away. That’s how faith makes me feel. Like a can of whoop-ass is at the other end of a prayer.
That holy whoop-ass may come in many forms. It might be in the ability to be stronger, kinder, more innovative and more resilient than I have ever been before. It could be in the blessing of forgiveness and grace. It might come in the form of loving correction. It could be healing, for myself or for someone I love. It might be protection over those I hold most dear, or vulnerable strangers I barely know at all. Or possibly, in the sweet surrender from having to know and do everything. It’s in the peace whispered to a wearied, battered soul.
You might find it in a quiet grove or on a beach or in front of a mountain. It might come at the end of a long dark night and it might come in a different form than you asked it to. It might take awhile before it looks like a blessing.
It might come from Amazon right to your self isolated door.
Maybe it’s a job, a cheque, groceries, an unexpected moment of communion or kindness, or the opportunity to help someone else.
It might be a vaccine.
I’ve never counted but apparently the term, “fear not,” is in the King James version of the Bible 365 times. Doesn’t that seem perfect? It’s just enough to move forward one day at a time.
Something to Shay 