March 1, 2024
What In the Name of Heaven is Faith?
Spring 1985
I stood confidently before an audience of my peers, knowing exactly what I would say and how it would be received. The auditorium was filled with teens like myself, all of us trained to understand what was expected of us by the church. I searched the faces before me and began.
“Faith is believing so completely in what God says He will do, that we do not hesitate, no matter what He requires of us. ”
I said this with confidence as I looked around the room.
“We don’t question what He says. We don’t question what He does. We jump when He says to jump.”
The audience, like me, had heard it all before.
“It’s kind of like this,” I explained. “My baby brother is only two years old and he likes to climb onto the top of an old trunk and there he teeters expectantly on the edge.”
The room was quiet. Everyone seemed to be listening.
“With arms outstretched, I tell my little brother that it’s ok to jump because I am waiting there to catch him.”
I extended my arms, pretending that I was reaching out to catch my little brother.
“That’s what it’s like to have faith in God,” I said with confidence. “When God tells us to jump, we know that He will be there for us. We know that anything He asks of us is for our good or the good of others. We just have to have faith”
The speech, a scholastic requirement, went well. The words I spoke sounded convincing. At seventeen years of age, I thought I knew all there was to know about God and faith. I had heard it all since I was but an infant.
Spring 2009.
Lying in a tight knot, face down in the cold, damp grass, I pounded the dirt with my fists. Then I raised my head toward the darkness of night and screamed in anger at God. I repeated this uncontrolled cycle of pounding and screaming again and again.
“Why?” I screamed. “What is it You want from me?”
“Why would You do this?”
“How could You do this?”
“Why? Why? Why?”
Initially, I had accepted that somehow even my son’s death had a Divine purpose. However, six months later a series of minor disappointments threatened to tear me apart. To top it all off, after hours of struggle that resulted in the birth of a dead calf, I was physically weary and emotionally spent.
That’s when I found myself alone, on the ground, in the middle of the night, questioning my beliefs and screaming at God.
March 2024
Although I dared to question the Almighty that night in 2009, I never stopped believing. I continued a practice I had started after Josh’s death, of visualizing myself held safe in The Arms of Love. Within that circle of love, I also visualized my son, the two of us held in a single, warm embrace.
These days, I’m not jumping off any cliffs and neither am I expecting God to catch me if I should accidentally fall. I question everything and none of it comes easy. I am, however, still clinging to a Love that holds me when I am broken.
Is this not also faith?
Dear Reader,
I just finished the audio version of a book narrated by the author Ann Patchett. THIS IS A HAPPY MARRIAGE is a collection of previously published personal narrative essays. The last essay touched me especially.
Ann spent the majority of the chapter describing her relationship with the Sisters of Mercy in Nashville. Starting with the authoritative role the nuns played as teachers in the parochial school she attended, she describes the sweet friendships she later developed with these women when she was an adult. As the chapter closes, Ann and one of the elderly nuns are discussing death and what happens after. The Nun briefly allows herself to express doubt before quickly returning to faith. Ann then asks the Nun what it is she would like to have upon her death when she reaches heaven. The Nun replies, “ I would like for God to hold me.”
I was struck by this essay because I understood clearly the Nun’s sentiments.
I once heard a story about three blind men who were taken to an elephant and told to describe it. Each of them, using their hands, explored the parts of the elephant they could touch. When asked to describe what they experienced, one man described a huge leg, another man described the trunk, and a third described the tail. Each of them believed they alone were giving an accurate description of an elephant. Were any of the men wrong? No, of course not. Were any of the men complete in their understanding? Again, the answer is no.
I have reached out to explore the Divine and maybe I have only experienced the trunk while someone else may have experienced a massive leg or the tiny tail. The point is that what is being revealed to us is greater than any of us can comprehend.
Divine Love is big. It can hold me even as I kick, scream, and demand answers to my questions. I believe that. I believe it’s big enough to hold me in death as well. I’m not naive enough now to think I have all the answers. That version of me died when I lost my son. I do believe, however, that those who seek Divine Love will find it revealed to them. That’s my leap of faith.
All My Love,
Tammy
To fear is to expect punishment. To love is to know we are immersed not in darkness, but in light. ~ Mother Teresa
“Faith lives in honest doubt.” ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson
Notes:
I continue to be blessed with opportunities to share articles with various homesteading and self-reliance magazines including Grit, Backwoods Home, Self Reliance, and now Hobby Farms. As an incentive, one of the publications that buy my work has increased the pay while allowing me to write as many articles as I want. My problem now is finding available time to write more often! It’s a great problem to have!
You can typically buy most of the above-mentioned periodicals in your local Barnes and Noble, Rural King, and Tractor Supply. Subscriptions can also be ordered so that you receive the magazines either electronically or in your mailbox.
This month, I have been asked to speak to a small, private group of Homemakers in Floyd, VA. I am thankful for the invitation and the opportunity to share a meal with these ladies as I talk about Homesteading, Writing, and Writing about Homesteading.
Thanks to all for your continued support.
Oh, Tammy, I felt for you and cried for you when you've spoken about loosing your son. But I now have a deep real understanding. I lost my daughter that lived here on the farm and did most of the animal care on January 28. She became ill not long after I returned from Kansas last fall. She was diagnosed with tumors in her brain. After treatments she got infections in her lungs. That is what took her.
I can't say that I ever thought I knew it all about God but I have cried out why. Even just last night. It seems to get harder as time goes. I know God is here.
I also long for Him to hold me.