I've shared my faith online the whole of my blogging experience and I've never been nervous to do so. It's such a huge part of who I am but it has been evolving and changing so much that often I look back and wonder if I didn't scare people away, turn people off or seem disingenuous, at times. I'm recognizing that there is a period of time, usually in ones twenties, when they really do believe they understand and know and have figured out God. They have all the answers.
I had that time and when I look back, sometimes I see it.
I think that might have been a reason I said goodbye to No.17, in the end.
It didn't feel right anymore.
I didn't know who I was becoming, but I was becoming something else, which is what we should all hope, if it is what God is wanting.
And now I sit here, 32, and realizing I know very little and especially know very little about my faith. When I say this I mean this.
I don't think that knowing verses and stories and how to lead someone to Christ's forgivness is really knowing your faith.
I believe those are the acts of faith and they are good but they are no longer what I am looking for. Mainly because I'm no longer driven by appearing that I know what I'm talking about because as I have proven to people and myself, in the past, I don't.
I fail, you fail, we all fail.
When I sat in church this morning, I was filled with emotion that the mere mention of Jesus, hanging on the cross, made tears well up in my eyes and I couldn't control it.
Which is exactly what I feel is wrong with Christianity in America and in the hearts of believers all over.
We want so desperately to control our faith and control understanding and control answers and control perception but we can't and I'm learning {slowly, at times} that is shouldn't strive towards that.
I sat in church this morning and realized I want that overflowing, out of control, emotion for Christ all week. I don't want to look forward to Sundays. That feeling comes sometimes, on a Wednesday, but it's usually when I'm running out the door. Or it appears and I choose to tackle laundry rather than talk to my Father.
I try to control it.
Which is odd because I truly don't want to control it and I especially don't want to have answers or even look like I have a few, because when I think I have the answers, I reach the end of my learning and true "knowing" my faith. That is when faith becomes about acts and that isn't what I want.
I don't even know if all this makes sense to you because often it makes no sense to me.
Which, like I alluded to, might be a very good thing.
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Happy Sunday, friends. Keep seeking.
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