Faith is like a shimmering veil. You can’t see through it. It’s like a cold shower. It wakes you up early and makes you shout, “O God!” Faith is like running on the sand by the ocean, losing your breath, bending over at the waist, sobbing for breath, your sides aching. Faith is catching your breath again and walking. Faith is the starfish, the tidepool, the foam on the crashing wave: all waiting, all trusting. Faith is salt and light.
Faith is a real pain in the ass, too. It’s delayed promises that make the heart sick with longing. It’s thinking something is going to happen and then realizing … it may not happen any time soon. It’s a constant struggle with impatience.
But then, faith makes you look up at the stars and try to count them. Faith is when you stop counting, because of an encounter with the One Who Counts on a strange road where, blinded by light, you start seeing things differently.
Faith is jumping on a trampoline and reaching for the sky. Faith is riding on a ferris wheel and kicking your toes at the clouds. Faith is falling asleep without fear. Faith is persevering through fear. Faith is being hidden. Faith is being found. Faith is a gift.
Photo Credit: Daria Obymeha
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