FAITH...

This is such a weighty title that it puts the fear of the Lord in me. I hate such titles because I sometimes feel like they have been over done. It is almost like watching a romantic comedy; I can predict what the person is going to say because I have heard it all before. You can ask my mother on a Saturday morning during the Muvhango omnibus how much I detest repeats. With that being said I hope that this is not a repeat of a sermon you’ve heard or a best selling Christian book. If it is, please feel free to wait for the next blog, whose date is unknown. While I’m still there, apologies for the late update.

Between the last blog post and now, I have been going through an interesting phase of my life. Read ‘interesting’ as ‘awful, but there should be some good in the midst of this, right?!’ It all started when I got an email asking me to apply for a programme at my dream organisation. Exactly a year ago, I found out about the UNESCO Young Professionals Programme. If anyone knows me and finds out what UNESCO is all about, they will see that what that organization is aiming to do resonates so deeply in my heart. I will not get into details for fear of getting side-tracked. This, and not the invitation to apply, was what posed my problem. I wanted this so much that the world lost its luster. Everything palled in comparison to this opportunity. Still don’t see the problem? Well…

What if I didn’t get in?

Have you ever wanted something so much that you procrastinated doing it for two weeks because you would rather face your own regretful wrath than the possible rejection? I have. But this still wasn’t the root of the problem either.

In everything I have ever attempted or wanted, God (you know? Jehovah Jirah? The one that provides? Yes! That guy) well, he has always been apart of it. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t go to him, seeking solace. This time somehow it was different. Hard as I tried, I could not utter anything more than a “Jesus, PLEASE”. Disconcerting, I know. When I got to the bottom of this I found that I actually did not trust God.

 And all the Pharisees, myself included, began to throw stones. “How dare you not trust GOD?!”

Over the last couple of years, I have been disappointed in so many things; relationships, leadership opportunities, travel opportunities, the list goes on. All the while during these times, I had had hope anchor me. I had had faith. It seemed as if God had been pulling pranks and I was the unsuspecting dim-wit who kept going back to the hanging carrot, even after he had said “PSYCH!” so many times before. This is what it felt like in that moment when I attempted to type out that application. In that moment I was reminded of all that I had felt cheated of. But here is the catch, I wasn’t even angry at God. I was angry at myself. How could you, being saved by miraculous grace, not trust the one who gives you life everyday? Just because that guy you loved so much didn’t wait for you like he said he would, just because you didn’t get that Italian adventure, how dare you distrust God?

This sounds so noble, so Christian. But somehow it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

More times than not, I believe I give God a way out. I make up excuses for him because it is easier to think of God as one who is faithful more than I could ever be. Don’t get me wrong, God is more faithful than I could ever imagine. The problem is how I get to this conclusion after a disappointment. The only reason I flee to get God off the hook is because it is less painful to think that he would let me get disappointed.

A couple of days ago, my cellphone was stolen. Now, I should probably explain my relationship with my phones. I have never lost a phone (excepting one R60 phone that was left at the beach). I have had the same number since I was fifteen. I credit this to the fact that I have prayed over my phones (excepting the R60 one that was left at the beach). This white beauty was no exception. I loved that phone more than any other phone I had ever had. I loved discovering new things on it. I loved how versatile it was. It was my baby. And now some other idiot had it.

I was upset and I didn’t understand. Instead of going to God and saying “Hey, Daddy, why?!” I just resorted to my normal self battery. Leave God out of your carelessness. That was the initial reaction. The next one was redeeming God; “maybe God has a better phone (insert ‘plan’) for me. Maybe this one was going to get me into trouble and God is protecting me… etcetera etcetera.” Hmph. Don’t you get tired of yourself sometimes?

I have taken the long way round to get to the point of this blog post. Forgive me.

When I got home and delivered the news about the phone to my mom, she put on her full armour and we prayed with a friend of hers for the safe return of my baby. Meeting this woman, I was suddenly injected with a portion of a kind of faith I had never had before. The authoritative kind. The kind that tells demons to flee and raises the dead. Needless to say, the next day, I was expectant. Nothing. And then the next day I went even more expectant. Still, nothing.

There he goes again, laughing with the angels, “we got her again, hey Michael? PSYCH!”

What do you do with your faith when the substance of what you hoped for does not come? Do you do what I do and hide behind excuses like “maybe I didn’t hear God properly” all in the name of keeping faith alive, or do you raise your fists at the heavens like Job eventually did?

Being the person that I am, I am very grateful that God is very secure; that his identity is not shaken by our thoughts about him. I wonder why he requires that we have faith. Why does he say that without faith, it is impossible to please him? Why does he insist on it like it is some magic potion that fixes everything, when my life and so many other lives clearly prove that it doesn’t always work? I know that God is not mean spirited; that he is not out to get us, but why? Why does he do this? Tells us we can move mountains, walk on water with just a little bit of faith? Is he crazy?

I have tearfully pondered upon these questions over the last couple of days and have come to a conclusion. I am tempted to think that this is yet another way of getting God off the hook, but I am going to be ironic and have a little faith. So here it goes; here is my proposition.

Maybe the purpose of faith is not the ‘what’ that we have faith for. Maybe the purpose of faith is the ‘who’ we have faith in. What if the fish instead of the snake is just another way of getting to the father? What if that rejection letter is meant to take you back into his arms?  What if the sole purpose of having faith is to get you even closer to God, regardless of the result of that faith? Remember Abraham? Taking Isaac, the promised heir, up that mountain to be slaughtered, Abraham had faith that God would make a way to fulfill his promise. The focal point of his faith wasn't the ram or the son, but the God! Wow.

So here I am waiting for that response from UNESCO, hoping for the job but being undeniably sure that there is God on the other side. I am going to have faith that I am going to get that license the right way and meet God on the steering wheel. I am going to have faith that in my foolishness I didn’t miss my husband because at the end I will find Jesus at the real wedding banquet. Here I am, finding myself smart phoneless, but so much closer to God.

When you remember that the purpose of your faith is to get you to God, you are never disappointed. 

Selah.