The Thrill and the Terror: Why Our Faith Falters
The Thrill and the Terror: Why Our Faith Falters
There's a peculiar tension woven into the fabric of faith. It's a feeling that simultaneously excites and terrifies, a push and pull between the known comfort and the unknown possibility. Faith, in its purest form, is a fascinating thing. It exists in that space before the tangible evidence appears, a confident knowing that something will work out, even before you take the first step.
Think about it. Until you actually step out in faith, you're operating in the realm of speculation. You might hope, you might wish, but you don't truly know. Yet, when faith takes root, that "knowing" precedes the outcome. It's a conviction that settles deep within, a quiet assurance that transcends current circumstances.
So, the question begs to be asked: if this inherent knowing exists within us, why do we so often hesitate? Why do we cling to the shore of the familiar instead of diving into the deep waters of faith? I believe the answer lies in the subtle, yet powerful, influence of the world around us. We've allowed the noise of doubt, the whispers of fear, and the perceived limitations of our circumstances to cloud the clear vision of faith.
I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that God is faithful. This isn't just a theological concept I've learned from the Bible or heard echoed in countless testimonies. My own life stands as a testament to His unwavering commitment. Yet, even with this personal history of divine faithfulness etched into my story, doubt still creeps in.
Perhaps this persistent doubt serves a purpose, a gentle reminder of our human limitations, a constant drawing back to the understanding that without God, truly nothing is possible. This isn't to diminish the importance of effort, education, or experience. These things have their place. But I've come to realize that nothing holds more weight, nothing carries more profound impact, than the unwavering power of faith.
I am no stranger to the tremor of fear that accompanies stepping into the unknown, propelled only by faith. But I am also intimately acquainted with the abundant fruit that blossoms when that step is taken. And yet, here I stand, sometimes paralyzed by the very fear I've overcome before, hesitant to pour all my energy into what I believe the Lord is calling me to.
Honestly, a significant part of this hesitation stems from a lack of self-confidence. And if I'm truly honest with myself, that lack of self-confidence is a direct result of a wavering faith. It's a frustrating cycle, a mental loop that leaves me scratching my head, considering all that I've witnessed and experienced.
Granted, the fear of making the wrong choice again looms large. I've been down that road, and I believe, deep down, I often knew even as the decision was being made that it wasn't aligned with God's best. The ensuing chaos was a direct consequence of my own choices, not a failure on God's part. Still, the memory makes the prospect of "jumping" feel daunting.
My struggles with ADD also play a role, though I refuse to let it be an excuse. I thrive on activity, on being engaged. Our time living in Puerto Rico was a constant hum of ministry, an exciting 24/7 immersion. Here in Michigan, the rhythm is different. There's a quietness that can feel like stagnation. Ministry hasn't flowed as easily, and a sense of boredom can creep in.
Jesus' words about a prophet not being welcomed in his own town resonate, though I make no grand claims of prophethood. I've experienced a sense of my particular calling not finding easy acceptance here. Perhaps I seem unstable to some. But the truth is, I function best when I'm busy, when there's a sense of urgency. Here, that pressure is often absent.
Faith, in its purest form, often turns that pressure up. Maybe that's precisely what I need – to intentionally step into situations that demand more faith, that push me beyond my comfort zone. The most deeply fulfilling periods of my life were those lived on the edge of faith, where the next step was unclear, and the "how" was entirely in God's hands. I yearn for that stretching, that call into the deep.
Perhaps I'm not listening intently enough. Or maybe, a part of me is afraid to truly listen because I know the Lord will speak, and I'm terrified of failing again. The old fears resurface: the fear of being abused, of being used, of rejection, of simply wasting my precious time.
I don't have all the answers right now. I don't know what that bolder step of faith looks like in this moment, in this place. But one truth rings clear and undeniable within me: a life lived without faith is a pale imitation of what it could be. It's a life that risks becoming boring, unfulfilling, and ultimately, useless. And that, more than any fear, is a prospect I cannot bear.
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