Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day 8-Faith

 

“Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith
that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel
as far as you wish without having to step outside it.” Rainer Maria Rilke

Faith.

It has always been a part of my story.

In my study at church, beneath my degrees and next to a picture of Dorothy Day, hangs my baptismal certificate. 

Stuck in one of the corners is a picture that sums up my faith:

My grandpa Quine holding me as an infant on the day of my baptism. Standing to his left is my dad and to my granpda’s right, the pastor who baptized me. 

What sticks out the most to me about this photo?

The smile on my grandpa. It’s a big smile. Ear to ear. I’m sure at close look we could see every tooth in his mouth. 

He is holding me, smiling. 

When I think of the Divine and my faith—our faith—I imagine it similar to what is happening in this photo.

I don’t remember that moment. And yet, I remember it. I feel it. I see it. 

My faith isn’t my own. It is of those who have gone before me. 

Like my grandfather. 

Who taught me about faith. Not so much with his words. But with the way he loved those in his life. But not only in the way he loved us—but in the way he knew, deep in his bones—in his smile—that he—that I—that we—are a part of something much bigger than him—me—us.

And that much bigger is this dance called life with the partner leading the way—the Divine.

Today’s picture ins’t of that picture. Instead, it is of how I’m feeling. 

Tired. Spent. Needing to be plugged in.

Today’s photo came at the end of a conversation with a dear friend who has become family—someone who knows what my grandpa knew. Someone, like many of you, who fills me up and restores my faith in what we do—being the church.

Church is a noun. It deserves a captial ‘c.’ 

But it is a verb—it is a way of being, a way of living, a ministry after all.

If we aren’t looking for ways to alleviate the pain, the burdens, and the suffering of others—then we aren’t doing it right. 

Tonight, my faith—which isn’t on empty but is in need of witness—has been restored. 

The smile of my grandfather—the laughter of a friend sibling—replinished my faith. Our brief talk reminded me that God’s song for us is a love song—just look to Isaiah. It is a song of resurrection.

It is a song so sweet that it will make even the grinchiest of Grinches smile. 

Some days faith-ing is easy. A lot of days its difficult. Thanks be to God that we don’t have to faith it alone. We have the Divine—we have each other.