...of questions and answers...

I’ve spent thousands of hours reading literally dozens of books trying to answer the questions: What and Why? What is wrong here? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you? Why? Why are you hurting me? Why do we hurt each other? Why is this happening? Why did God let this happen? When I get too far sunk down into what my mom used to call the ‘pity pot,’ I have to remind myself that I’m not the only one to ask such questions as these. I remember One who asked: “My God! My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” I remember he said something about wanting the bitter cup to pass from him; wanting that he didn’t have to drink it. I’ve felt like that. I’ve wondered why I felt so alone. Had God forsaken me? Is he there? Has he removed himself far from me? Have I removed myself far from him? Was he ever there in the first place? Was I ever near to him? I’ve hated the taste of the bitter cup I’ve filled, in some degree, for myself. If the glory of God is intelligence (as is the doctrine of the church to which I’ve belonged since 1985), and if the struggle is what makes you stronger (as I tell my training clients), I hope God will be understanding as I struggle and grow…I hope I’m growing…I hope… None of us are born strong. We’re born weak and small; naked. We learn to dress, cover and protect ourselves as we grow up. We learn to walk and run…to be strong. We grow to meet the measure of our creation, and before we know it, we’re half way through this life. What have we become? Have we grown up to be as our Father? Have we gone astray? Is he there to receive us, if we return home? What does all of this mean? Why is it painful to grow? There are so many questions to ask, but none of them have I been the first to ask. To some questions, there are no answers, I think. To some questions, the only answer is: I don’t know. When the follow up question of “Who does know,” is answered with the same “I don’t know,” it seems to me that there can be no conclusion that makes sense. My logical mind has kicked against that notion. But you know what? I’m not alone. We’ve all passed this way, or we will pass this way before we’re done. For whatever the reason, it’s necessary. The sooner we accept the thorny path for what it is, the sooner we can let go of trying to make sense of it and just get on with making our way toward the destination we seek. And what is that? For each, it may be a different goal. For me, it is peace and harmony. I’m reminded of the familiar words: “Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole? When with a wounded heart, anger or malice, I draw myself apart, searching my soul? Where, when my aching grows, where when I languish, where, in my need to know, where can I run? Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish? Who, who can understand? He; only One. He answers privately, reaches my reaching in my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend. Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching. Constant he is and kind, Love without end.” The idea has become very clear in my mind that the power Christ has in my life is only as real as my belief in him. I remember the man who brought his crippled child to Jesus to be healed. The Savior told him he would heal the child, if only the father would believe. The father at first said he did believe…then said, “Help thou my unbelief.” He wanted to believe. He knew he didn’t have sufficient faith…but wanted to believe. He did have the faith to at least bring the boy to Jesus. That was something…but he lacked sufficient faith for his son to be healed. But, you know what happened? The Savior did heal the boy. He either healed him in spite of his father’s lacking faith, or he healed the father’s faith first, and then healed the boy. Either way, the end result is the same. Anything touched by the hand of Jesus is healed, isn’t that what we’ve been taught? I’ve been like that father. I thought I had faith. I guess I had enough to pray and read the scriptures and go to church. I went through the motions…but I don’t guess I had sufficient faith to be healed. I have a son with cerebral palsy…I’ve prayed for him and fasted...so many times over the years. He still has a crippled body. I guess I haven’t had sufficient faith for him to be healed. I have a baby daughter who I found dead one Sunday morning, when I got up to get dressed for church. I begged God to put her life back into her body. I thought about Lazarus and Jairus’ daughter…and other stories I’ve read about people being raised from the dead. I believed God could do it. I begged him to...but he didn’t. Did I have insufficient faith? Was it not his will..? I'm divorced now, after 29 years of marriage. I prayed for years that God would heal my marriage. He didn't. Did I lack faith? Did I not work hard enough? I stopped asking those questions. What is; just is. What has happened; has happened…most of it didn't have anything to do with me. There are some things that have everything to do with me. Whether or not Christ is real; whether or not God IS, is up to me. Whether or not I believe in Christ doesn’t make him exist or not exist. He either IS or he ISN’T, regardless of whether or not I believe. BUT—if he is able to heal me, it will only be because I allowed myself to believe. If I choose to let him be real to me, he will be. If I choose to be healed by him, I will be. He can have no power in me, unless the magic of belief is in me first. That’s the key. There has to be a particle of belief before anything can grow from it. What will grow? I don’t know. Will I see a miracle? Probably not...but I'm open to the possibility... Will I find peace? More than likely…in time. I know there is certainly no peace to be found anywhere else. Can Christ raise me from my metaphorical grave? Yes. He can. Will I let him? Yes. I will.