Most of my friends are,
essentially, atheists. I am surrounded by them and love them. Most likely
you’re in the same situation. I know these friends try to understand me, but
most of them don’t really. They wonder why I pray, go to church, strive to
follow Jesus, and most curiously – why I believe in the “hocus pocus” stuff
like Christ’s presence in the Eucharist, spiritual healing, and the power and
strengths of God’s Holy Spirit. Stuff that they can’t see or find in a
data-set. That’s okay. I accept them as friends on anonymous spiritual
journeys; that is, experiencing life through its inevitable ups and downs.
They may see me as quaint,
old-fashioned, or even irrational (and I thank them for loving me in spite of
this). But they see that I press on. I don’t try to tell them what they should
do. I only try to do what I believe I should do (and that takes up most of my
energy anyway). At this point in my life, changing others is no longer on my
“to do” list. And if somehow they find Jesus, well, Hallelujah!
If they are my friends, I am sure
they have seen the exciting journey my life has taken the past twenty years
since I was “called” to serve God. I hope they have seen how my calling and faith
has enabled me to struggle through all kinds of trouble: death of a
granddaughter, son’s suicide, Sabine’s cancer, and the agony, loss, and grief that
emerges from these troubles.
Could I have weathered these
life-events without my faith? Possibly. But I see many others emerge from these
events losing their faith and blaming God. For me, the gift of faith is
understanding that through tragedy can come learning; a learning that can grow
one’s spiritual life and faith in God.
Maybe that’s what faith is – the
strength God gives us, through our relationship with Jesus, to be able to take
away from big emotional hits, overwhelming periods of grief, something that
will help not only oneself, but others as well. A gift that enables us to press
on.
Isn’t that the Cross?
