Faith is the last elbow in a fist fight.
It’s the new born screaming for his mom trusting he’ll be fed. It’s desperation without despair. Faith is a tight rope and we all walk a bit buzzed. Every man, woman, and child, can’t walk in a straight line and this is the blessing of faith: we’re mysteriously made strong.
Faith is the man who doubts but still grieves over his doubts. Faith is the woman who is so afraid but still believes one day she may be made brave again. Faith is the child who thinks hope is still worth believing in. It is the new purple morning and a crimson evening. Faith is the dew on the summer grass and the hail storm in spring. Faith is violent and patient all at once. Faith is groaning and silent. Faith is found in weeping and in the stages far beyond the tears.
Faith carries the man to prayer and then carries his worn hands to healing. Faith is a stretcher for the hopeless widow. Faith costs all we have but never a penny more. Faith does not ask we come different from how we are but rather demands we name our condition. Faith will not benefit the scheming man – looking for ways to manipulate his prayers and pleadings. Faith is a wheel chair when we only want a crutch. Faith invites us always to the cross.
Faith shows us the bloody beam – it’s not afraid of our wounds.
Faith shows us the grave – it’s not afraid of our doubts.
Faith shows us the empty tomb – it will not leave us in the graveyard.
Faith does not mock the poor man but laughs at those who think they are well off. Faith does not scorn the needy but shuts out the man who rejects the gift.
Faith is a boxer fighting without the gloves.
It is a bloody, beautiful world and we are held by our bloody faithful Savior.