Yesterday, I read a really good article on how becoming a mother gives us
way to review or discover our own faith composition. I
quote her in saying, ‘when babies start growing up, you begin thinking about
everything you believe—how it matters, how it transfers, how the responsibility
of passing things on suddenly bears weight.’ There have been several times
where I find myself feeling guilty, knowing I probably haven’t yet set a good
foundation needed for Jonah to learn about God. Yes, I've bought books, we pray
every night, and I try to constantly remind him how much Jesus loves him. I worry I have let my own frustrations about
church and my own doubts get in the way of allowing him the opportunities to
discover who Jesus is-- where the trees come from, hear the stories, sing songs, and recite bible verses that I reviewed so
many times while growing up in various church activities, camps, and Sunday
school.
I am drawn to reminisce in the memories of my own childhood,
and review a pride I have let slip. I remember
accepting Jesus as my Savior at the age of three and memorizing bible verses
for AWANA , singing on Sundays, and attending camps. In later years, my weekends consisted of
church activities, small groups, and daily devotions. I had an overwhelming support system of
mentors and friends who gave way to my
personal growth with Christ, and what I believe helped keep me out of trouble
for at least a few years of my adolescence. I give much credit to my mother in the earlier
years, who despite any financial or economic circumstances she faced as a
single mother, made God a constant priority in her life, transferring what
matters, passing on her own beliefs, and teaching me what she knew was right
and true. That desire to learn, dive
into faith, and develop a relationship with Christ was so strong. I was eager. I tend to become sad as I
reminisce the days of my childhood where my faith was so prominent in my
life--Sad, knowing that today my faith is nowhere near the level it once
resided.
In those teen years, I was young and like any teenager, held
a desire to fit in with those around me.
Competition, self-discovery, and temptation all sat within a bird’s eye view.
But I think those life lessons all encompass
what it means to ‘grow up’. This ‘growing up’ could have coincided with
the alternative, had I not chosen the narrow option. I rather enjoy the fact
that I wasn't involved in much trouble young teens indulge in at that age. Discovering myself and what my faith consisted
of in an environment lacking any drugs, sex, or immorality presents a pride in
itself.
This pride, both derived from my mother and choosing the
narrow has seemingly slipped into a blind spot. Masked by the doubts centered around faith, and frustrations later years
have brought. I quote the author in feeling ‘For a long time, I
viewed my faith issues much like I view my house when it gets too messy—I stand
back, take it all in, and conclude the mess is too overwhelming, so I make a
cup of coffee and walk away.’ It becomes a fear to really sit down and muster
through the unknown. Many excuses and reasons have been given in hopes that it
will be put on the back burner for a little while longer. I guess this article has not only
forced myself to accept the need to understand my own beliefs, but it validates the importance of them--For in order to diminish any doubts
regarding Jonah’s personal growth in Christ, I must strengthen my own.
Noting this, I have prayed asking to desensitize any fear. Digging
deep into the doubts I hold, may bring forth new doubts, may confront the
reality that my faith is nowhere near the level I state. That truth is scary. A
couple of weeks ago, Patrick and I watched “The Passion of the Christ.” Every
time I see that movie, it brings me to tears.
Weeping more is a word to describe the nature. Amongst the reminders
given of what I know true, I always get a sense of guilt and the doubt I hold
resurfaces. The definition of faith is
perplexing; a belief in the unseen. Jealousy surfaces and I question why the
followers of Jesus and those living among him so many years ago had the privilege
of seeing Him. Why must I live in a world where just believing
is the means of salvation? Why can’t I touch His nail struck hands, or see Him
walk on water? And even if I was present
in that day and age, would I have believed in Him had I seen? I do believe I would have, for I know I
believe in Him without such vision..but it just always leaves me with a ‘what-if’
mentality and makes me question my own faith foundation.
And to note the familiar question--one I am sure is present with the disastrous event in Boston-- why must we live in
such a world of destruction? Reading of
all the turmoil taking place in our country and those foreign makes me ask why?
Is it evil? Why must evil be present and occur in the lives of the innocent? Why so vividly must it lie in
the time I live in—the time my children live in? And if I don’t know the answer
to that—how am I to answer to a child with similar wonder? Unprecedentedly, I've grown to know these frustrations give root to an arrogance towards those who lack any such doubts. Claims of growth and validity of one’s faith
tend to frustrate me further--Most likely crediting to the lack of answers in
my own faith.
With this prayer for a deeper understanding into the doubts I've let live within me, I have also prayed for a validation of the things that I do
know. If I stood back and took into
account the things that I do know and have learned in younger years more often
enough—various verses, life lessons, bible passages--I think I would surprise
myself. I think it would allow me to move forward and
re-open the truth of what I've learned. It
would give me the means to put forth a stronger effort and probably diminish
some of the guilt I feel in not setting that stronger example of faith. The
example I desire to set for my children.
What I do know is that my God is love. He is the definition of
it. He gave His son for us and died for us.
The author validated the same—in that she wants her children to know the limitless love of
God. If what I pass down to my children
is God’s love, and showing them that loving one another is what matters, I know
He will work in their lives in a deeper way imaginable. For I know the faith I
held in younger years was a result of knowing the love God holds. My parents
may have had doubts in their own faith, but never allowed their own issues to
get in the way of teaching me about our loving Savior.
It’s evident, as I
mentally process this post that I must face these doubts head on. I must focus on mending my inner struggles
and faith issues within. I ask that a
continuous prayer be made on my behalf for the courage to do so. To parallel that, however, I vow to reaffirm
what I do know, and take the more simplistic approach that endorses the
innocent faith God asks us to have. Jonah is noticeably in the stage where he
will believe most everything, we as parents, tell him. My hope is that God’s
limitless love is seen in my actions, words, and heart as a mother. Thus resulting
in a childlike, un-tampered faith. A strong faith that can one day withstand adulthood.
An assured one…and coincidentally one less
complicated.
