Tomorrow, if you ask me what I have to say as a young person, you might get a different answer.
Today though, I’ll readily admit that most anything I have to share comes from a place of uncertainty.
If you asked, I would tell you that the things I know are few.
[But maybe it’s not really uncertainty after all.]
I might quote my favorite line from that Sleeping at Last song:
“I don’t have all the answers, just a little light to call my own…”
[I even wonder about that line sometimes. Is “light” capitalized? And what does it mean to call it mine?]
I might tell you that this not-knowing is OK, that after all, my faith hinges on a small word that starts with “m.”
And now we proclaim the mystery of faith– Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.
[Every Sunday, I say the verbs punchy, like a protest, in the face of everything I see. ]
I would tell you I recite the creed in chorus, knowing that every line that begins with “I believe” does not always mean the same thing as “I understand.”
[I pronounce it week in and week out, so it is in my heart like a catchy song, an earworm I hope I never lose.]
But they are “I believe”s I cup in my hand, stealing peeks between my thumbs whenever I get a chance. Sometimes, they are big enough to swim in.
Besides that, I’m not sure about a lot. I’m not sure why some mamas cannot have the babies they ache for, or why the earth is full of violence. Most days, I don’t know what church is all about or the ways in which the Lord speaks to you or to me. I couldn’t tell you if it is better to be excellent for the sake of Christ or a servant of the least of these. I don’t know exactly how to be a champion of the poor and save the planet, too. I don’t always know what to do with the fact that the word that translates to “steadfast love” in scripture can also mean “rebuke.”
I do not mean that the questions do not have answers, that the Truth is beyond our grasp. I only mean to say that I’m not there yet, that maybe none of us are, and so if I say anything, I hope to say it humble, and I ask you to do the same.
I pray for Grace to bridge the gap, to change my heart and make it one of wisdom. I pray that one day I will have enough gray hairs and good stories to temper these wild wonderings.
So, now and forever, I stand and say the “I believe”s, knowing them to be true.
And I remember the rest of that Sleeping at Last lyric:
“A speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow darkness whole.”
Though this post is perhaps less than what I promised last week, this is the one I count as contribution to my dear friend Preston Yancey’s synchroblog directed to young people.
[However, I may be the only one who cares about the distinction.]
Please, please read the beautiful words others have written, by clicking the image below: