A Question of Believing
I'm sitting here with my Bible open in my lap, more for comfort than anything. I WANT to believe, but I've been hurt so much.
I've been let down, disappointed, broken, very ill, and yes, even abandoned for reasons I don't understand.
It leaves me somewhere between humiliated and humbled.
I was contemplating this Book in my hands, a book so cherished by "Christians." Those early Christ followers, they did not have a label to define them, nor did they have the convenience of scripture to sling around to confirm their personal convictions by. They had little more than blind faith.
They were the true believers.
We are choosers rather than believers. We believe in The Book more than Who it is about. Maybe, just maybe we are supposed to believe WITH the penmen of The Book.
Forgive me if I am being.....dishonoring. I don't mean to be. This existence I am in, it seems to take a toll on me. My faith has evolved.
Some feel I've fallen away. Quite the contrary. I've believed more, but far differently than I once did.
I do not take lightly the sacrifices that were made for these pages to be turned while it sits in my lap. It gives me hope that this longing in my heart will be satisfied.
A particular passage stands out. "For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, Now I will arise," says the Lord, "I will set [her] in the safety for which [she] yearns." Psalm 12:5 (NKJV)
Dare I hope? Dare I believe?
I am a fusillade of emotions. Its so hard to hide mourning, that deep sadness that rips you to shreds inside. But it is contained by a physical body that seems to hold it all together when the heart can't.
What if everything I've gone through, every poor decision I've made, every circumstance, every consequence and every experience have been exactly what they were supposed to be?
The Book. The comforting Words that flow from its pages soothe an aching, desperate soul. I will be set in safety, I will have the yearning satisfied.
I believe. Even when I doubt, my deepest self believes.
I've been let down, disappointed, broken, very ill, and yes, even abandoned for reasons I don't understand.
It leaves me somewhere between humiliated and humbled.
I was contemplating this Book in my hands, a book so cherished by "Christians." Those early Christ followers, they did not have a label to define them, nor did they have the convenience of scripture to sling around to confirm their personal convictions by. They had little more than blind faith.
They were the true believers.
We are choosers rather than believers. We believe in The Book more than Who it is about. Maybe, just maybe we are supposed to believe WITH the penmen of The Book.
Forgive me if I am being.....dishonoring. I don't mean to be. This existence I am in, it seems to take a toll on me. My faith has evolved.
Some feel I've fallen away. Quite the contrary. I've believed more, but far differently than I once did.
I do not take lightly the sacrifices that were made for these pages to be turned while it sits in my lap. It gives me hope that this longing in my heart will be satisfied.
A particular passage stands out. "For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, Now I will arise," says the Lord, "I will set [her] in the safety for which [she] yearns." Psalm 12:5 (NKJV)
Dare I hope? Dare I believe?
I am a fusillade of emotions. Its so hard to hide mourning, that deep sadness that rips you to shreds inside. But it is contained by a physical body that seems to hold it all together when the heart can't.
What if everything I've gone through, every poor decision I've made, every circumstance, every consequence and every experience have been exactly what they were supposed to be?
The Book. The comforting Words that flow from its pages soothe an aching, desperate soul. I will be set in safety, I will have the yearning satisfied.
I believe. Even when I doubt, my deepest self believes.
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