Everything Old is New Again

Faith.  It's a funny thing.  I've "walked" in my faith for so long that, like an old pair of pants, I've forgotten how much I was  in love with them when I first bought them.  My faith has been washed, ripped, stretched, flooded and worn to the point of being just like those old pants I'm ready to throw away because they remind me that I'm not {new, young, skinny, vibrant, fill in the blank...} anymore.  The fresh faith that carried me through so much of my teens and twenties is now tired, worn, and... what was that word I used on Facebook yesterday?  Ah, yes, reticent. 

• ret·i·cent

1. reserved: unwilling to communicate very much, talk freely, or reveal all the facts about something
2. reluctant: unwilling to do something

What a sad word to have to use to describe my faith.  Reticent.  Unwilling to communicate, talk freely or reveal all the facts.  Reluctant.  Unwilling.  "...having a form of Godliness, but denying it's power," is the way Paul phrases it to Timothy (2 Timothy 3).


But here I am blogging, as I am prone to do when I need to think through my life and faith... when I need God to make me new again.  When my reticence must give way to the life of faith (because make no mistake--any faith described as reticent is no faith at all).

This all comes on the cusp of God telling me "no".  I've had "faith" that God would provide financially for my family in a couple of very specific ways as I start Graduate school next week.  As of Thursday, He has officially said no to both of my expectations.  It makes me angry.  It hurts my feelings.  It makes me want to cry and kick and scream and potentially give up on this dream I have watched God hand deliver to me over the past year. 

But that is not the way of faith.  The way of faith takes the first step without seeing every step on the path.  The way of faith allows God to direct.  The way of faith is simple.  It is not overthought, hyper-planned or easy.  It is serendipitous.  It is beautiful.  It is fun and unexpected.  It is allowing God to make me smile instead of counting on myself for joy.  It is peaceful--something I have not been for months.

Faith lets go.  Faith opens its heart.  Faith smiles.  Faith breaths.  Deeply.

So as I begin this journey... however long it takes and wherever it may take me, I will breath.  I will be quiet.  I will stop trying to be in control of everything just because that's what responsible middle class American adults do (ha).  I will learn to walk in the way of faith--a way I started walking 20 years ago--and I will learn what faith looks like each day.  And if you happen to see me, please ask me how my faith is growing and changing.  And if you sense any bit of resonance in my answer, ask me again.