These are uncertain times. Uncertainty seems to hang in the air like a bad odor, seems to course through our veins like a dark dye. It’s a car poking along in front of us on a road where we can’t pass. We feel trapped behind it.

And I pride myself in trying to live in oblivion by limiting my exposure to the news. I like to be able to speak intelligently about national and global affairs, but the doom and gloom is often more than I care to digest. Whenever possible I try to starve my fear’s appetite for looming disaster. I do a pretty good job, so don’t expect any riveting posts on current events in the near future. While trying to emaciate my anxieties, I am always trying to fatten my faith.

Oh no, here she goes again…

Faith is this nebulous, obtuse, abstract (yes, I know they all kinda mean the same thing – I just love them) thing that makes people think Christ-followers are straight up nut jobs. It’s true. The concept of placing faith in something outside of ourselves seems to make people uncomfortable.

It shouldn’t; we do it all the time. For instance, every morning I rush around like a crazy person getting people fed, dressed, and in the car with all the necessities for the day. There’s usually not a minute to spare, honestly. And when I put the key in the ignition and turn it, I expect it to crank. I have faith in my nine year-old 112, 000 mile Pathfinder. In nine years it has started every time I have turned the key except once (when the battery exploded – frightful). My truck and I have history; it has been very faithful. For that I am grateful. I demonstrate my faith in my truck by how I live my morning. I don’t build in extra time for car issues. I don’t have a back-up plan if my transportation fails. I know the car is going to crank. It always has. As my car gets older and more worn, I am headed for a day of disappointment. The first time it leaves me high and dry; my faith in it will take a hit and perhaps collapse all together (depending on where I am stranded, how long it takes help to arrive, and how many children I have in the car at the time).

My point is this – we all put our faith in something. Our money, the company we work for, our spouse, our children, ourselves. That’s all fine and dandy until the economy crashes, our company folds, our spouse dies unexpectedly, our children rebel, and we totally come unglued. Those things happen every day.

What are you putting your faith in?

I’ll go first, and I’ll shoot straight. My big picture faith is in Jesus Christ. Constant. Eternal. Faithful and True. His character and His promises don’t change with the Dow; He isn’t surprised by the energy crisis, and He can’t be usurped by the next President. He doesn’t worry or waver, and He is the only certainty, the only fail-safe fool-proof unshakable strength and security in the face of our uncertain circumstances.

But, truth be told, my daily little picture faith is in myself. I tend to think I can handle things quite nicely on my own. Honestly, that never turns out well. I am moody, and impatient, and I often have sharp edges. I can be insecure and selfish and undisciplined and weak. I am proud, often loud, opinionated, and bossy. Really…who would sign up to put their faith in that? I’m taking my name off that sign-up sheet (wish it were that easy…). Seriously, my truck is more dependable than I am. However,…

There can be certainty. Of that, I am certain! Are you?

Originally posted on September 30, 2008

Like yours, my life is noisy. Carson got a singing Hannah Montana doll and card and a singing Ariel card for her birthday, so she and Campbell were well armed with noisemakers as we left Savannah earlier today. I did step up as the party pooper and nixed all of the plans for a very Hannah Montana ride home.

But before we left, the girls went to the store and to see the ducks with Granddaddy and Gran- Gran. I was upstairs gathering our things when I noticed it. Everything was still and quiet. No appliances whirring. No birds chirping. Silence. And I just sat down for a few minutes to listen. Not to think – just to listen.

There’s something about experiencing God in absolute silence. I experience Him differently when I am singing my heart out in praise than when I am surrounded by the beauty of Creation than when I am in silence. Not that He changes; I am just drawn to different aspects of His character in different settings. During my own “Shout to the Lord” sessions I am overtaken by His soveriegnty, His omnipotence, His goodness, His grace, His forgiveness. The evidence of God in nature leaves me filled with wonder, amazed at His attention to detail, His creativity, His perfection, His beauty. I am awestruck as I notice the growth of spring, peer up at the mountains, or stare endlessly over the ocean from the shore.

But silence speaks to me of His comfort, His peace, His companionship. And I just feel like I don’t have to do anything or say anything or try to hear anything from Him. Just be with Him. It’s exactly like riding in the car with Chris, being glad to be with him, enjoying his presence, and feeling perfectly comfortable to be quiet and be together.

Sometimes I try to plan silence, but it’s usually shattered by a dog barking, construction workers sawing, phones ringing, or UPS men buzzing the doorbell. And there are other times when I just become aware of it – like this morning. It was like this sweet, little, perfect gift that I found tucked away out of plain view and was able to keep it all to myself.

Originally posted April 20, 2008