Hours before a surgery, I got out of bed and reorganized my closet. I pondered how my faith had been grown, nurtured, dug up, carried with me, and replanted in the rough spots of my life. Sometimes faith feels powerful enough to bubble up and burst out of me. Sometimes I’ve worked to keep that faith steady. If my faith does have a size, it isn’t likely to measure up to the storied mustard seed.
Later, just before surgery, I thought of how, in the past, grace had helped me discern where best to leap. Grace gave me the confidence to appreciate life and fanned my faith when I doubted. I can plan and act, but grace is faith’s fuel. On my own, I was not capable of something so extraordinary. As I listened to the anesthesiologist and felt my eyes growing heavier, I feared that the hope I mustered might simply be a last resort. It could be enough. It would have to be.
This message is excerpted from “The trouble with faith” by Karris Golden in the November 2020 Gather magazine.
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