Faith

It's Advent season, a time of anticipation and preparation for that portion of believers who observe the church calendar. We hear sermons about the Old Testament prophets foretelling the arrival of the Messiah, John the Baptist telling us to get ready, and the need to prepare our hearts and minds for His coming. It's a challenging time, because we all know from past experience that He's coming, but He didn't exactly fit the image that the followers of old had in mind - They were expecting a warrior king, majestic and powerful, to lead them to greatness. He was a king, but He was born in a barn. He was a warrior, "mighty in battle", but he never led a conquering army. He was majestic and powerful, but also "a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief". Come to think of it, He doesn't always fit our expectations, either: Every time we try to put Him in a category, He defies our expectations, leaving us scratching our heads, trying to understand...

In the end, when our expectations aren't met, we're left to stew, sometimes doubting and confused, sometimes angry and sullen, pining for answers before an inscrutable God. Our faith is tested. I mean, He was supposed to take care of us, make us happy, prosperous, full of vim and vigor, no?

Along those lines, I received this poem from a good friend. The author is, unfortunately, unknown.


BUTTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night I had a wondrous dream
One set of footprints there was seen
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.

But then some stranger prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, What have we here?
Those prints are large and round and neat,
But Lord, they are too big for feet.

My child, He said in somber tones,
For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait.

You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know.
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt.

Because in life, there comes a time,
When one must fight and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their buttprints in the sand.


And so, we are left to wonder... butts firmly planted in the sand.

Perhaps this is the essence of Faith - i.e., if we possessed a clear and certain understanding of Jesus - all that He was, and is, and ever will be, in our lives and in heaven above - If we could put Him in a box, then Faith would become Knowledge, and it would lose something very precious and essential in the process. Instead, Faith, when fully grown and matured, becomes Trust.