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i recently had an “ahha” moment. have you ever had one of those revelatory experiences where you read, saw, or heard something, and all of the sudden that something clicked? sometimes these “ahhha moments” are painful, sometimes they are affirming and good. every time, i think they are necessary…and it’s our response that makes them matter.
few people, i think want to classify themselves as one of “those people“. that is, unless one of “those people” happens to be amazing… however if the tone is, “those people,” (and i think you know the tone i am referring to) you most likely don’t want to be lumped in with them.
i started reading this book, it’s called “velevt elvis”, weird title, i know. the book is good though. i had scarcely finished chapter one, and it happened…. i realized it. i was one of those people. these moments are strange, and they are strange because ‘those people’ are always them, and never us. or to personalize it, they are always you and almost never me. i can be lumped into the group of people that the author was talking about, and these groups of people are not people i want to be lumped with.
the thing is, the author was talking about faith and bricks and trampolines, sort of. and i realized that i am a person whose faith is built on bricks. initially this sounds all good and well…solid. however… i’m getting older.. life is moving by me, past me, and along with me. life is teaching me a lot. and reluctantly, i am learning. i say reluctantly, because some of the things i’ve learned, make me wish i could be more naive.
but i digress. so back to the bricks and trampolines… oh, and i apologize to the author because i am adding a bit of my own interpretation and experience the matter of bricks and trampolines.
here is what i’ve been learning…
faith built on bricks sounds great, does it not? we get our mortar put in a mold, let it dry, and pop it out… this perfect rectangle of solidarity. then, we build on it, carefully placing every piece in so it fits perfectly. i remember in jerusalem where they were building a new wall made of old bricks. the bricks were numbered, because they had a perfect place where they fit in, everything would work, so long as the right brick was in the right spot. and so it goes, brick after brick, taller, wider, and symmetrical. we like that our faith can be so systematic because it’s comforting somehow. we want it to be concrete. but is it really? what is it that brings us security in faith? systematics? formulas? academics, and perfect answers? what happens when an old brick is not numbered? what happens when someone knocks one of my bricks out of my wall? the problem with faith built on bricks is that when we remove pieces, the wall becomes unstable, not something i would actually be able to stand on…this it would seem, shows that brick faith, was not as solid as i had previously thought. this may sound like no big deal to you, but it is to me. i am remembering with clarity more than one conversation, where i was adamant and unwilling to even begin to acknowledge that a brick could be taken out to be examined. i even said, “when you question that, it tears down everything i know to be true. and i won’t accept that. it’s true, because it has to be or other things make no sense.” this way of thinking is indicative of some serious faith-insecurity issues.
this concreteness is anything but solid.
faith like a trampoline… it is built on springs and we jump. we don’t hide behind it, we engage it, we experience it… and something the author pointed out that i like- others are more inclined to join us. the springs are foundational in one sense, but we can take them out to be examined. everything doesn’t come crashing down just because there are tough and honest questions.
i like that springs are coiled. they are shaped more like question marks. and i am a girl with a lot of questions.
i’m a visual person, so when i think of god, i usually see a big question mark. this used to be a problem for me and so i’d run and hide behind my brick wall (never on top of it), pretending everything made sense. but the order in systematic, linear thinking, is actually kind of chaotic. i’m learning that the question mark is not something that is wrong or something to be ashamed of. it’s not a question mark that says i doubt his existence… it’s a question mark that that says i am infinitesimally small and He is infinitely great, and God is a beautiful mystery. when it comes to faith, i do not ‘check my brain at the door’, i hope you are not hearing that, but i do know that a being far greater than ourselves exists… He is solidarity, but not something to be formulated, constructed, or contained by our mere minds… i can not wrap my intellect or reason around the ‘i am-ness’ of this God who claims to care about such a tiny me, and i am learning that this is okay.
the questions are good. the springs are good. the springs that are shaped like question marks are even better. i would much rather jump on a trampoline than a brick wall. i am learning that the ups and the downs, the questions, and the things that don’t make sense are all okay… because when the dark night inevitably comes, and i am weary from all my jumping, i will be able to lay on my back to watch the stars, amazed by the God who’s hand has formed every single one, the God who’s very hand reaches out to me despite my doubt, not knowing, and questioning.
this is where true security is found.
