Where Did My Faith Come From?

Even in the darkest moments, it has been there

Where did it not come from, my faith? There is nothing I can answer to that. Everything has informed the presence of faith in my life. I listen to a movie theme and feel it. I watch the wind through leaves in a tree and feel it. I hear a child’s laugh and feel it. I read a magical story and feel it. Everything matters. I read the Gospel of John and in its power of faith I feel whole.

There is no absence.As I mourn the terrible catastrophe visited upon tens of thousands of little children in the Middle East, yet my faith stays. Why? What does that mean? Do I care less if I do not rail in anger and tears do not come?But the anger does come. So do the tears. So does the feeling of helplessness that I cannot make it better for the little ones whose lives are at risk, wherever they are. I cannot stop the rebels and invaders who see these children as expendable.In another place and time I would rent the garments I wear and my voice would climb the skies in anguish.But we are too civilized for this now, we think. I’m not so sure. It may be instead we have taken a massive backward step into darkness because we have put mourning aside. I feel this.