Faith is harder when life is going well, I think.
When things are at their lowest, it’s pretty easy to remember. Truthfully, when you’re at the bottom, it’s hard to think of anything other than hope.
But when things are going well, it’s so easy to forget. It seems second nature to latch onto this idea that we have anything to do with our successes and the good will we experience. It’s easy to say it was hard work; we tried our best. Things fell into place because we tried with every little bit of our being.
Try as hard as you might, you’re never going to make anything happen that wasn’t supposed to.
And that’s where I get caught up.
I forget that good will and the ability to work hard are a blessing.
I’m learning that bad days are also a blessing. God has this amazing set of checks and balances where he reminds me that I did none of this, I screw up regularly and shit happens.
I had a hard time with Easter this year. I don’t really know why; on paper, it should have been a grand celebration – one of the best Easters of my life. I’m more active in a church than I’ve ever been – active in a way that isn’t for show and is because I actually believe in what I’m doing. My life is in a good place. My soul feels energized and my heart feels pretty whole.
But it wasn’t. I spent the morning in the nursery at church; anyone who knows me well knows that’s one of the first places I should find joy. I went on a hike for a few hours through the woods and contemplated grace. I thought about it for hours, and just couldn’t make a connection. It was a good day, but nothing special. Not really.
Then the past 12 hours happened – 12 hours that have tested my faith completely in every way possible. Twelve mentally, spiritually, emotionally taxing hours.
And it’s been more of a celebration than I could have ever expected.
The truth about faith – the reason we celebrate Easter in the first place – is because faith and grace and hope and the whole thing is just so beautiful. And big. So much bigger than anything else.
Because it has nothing to do with any of us, really. Because it has everything to do with us, also. Because it shows up when we need it, regardless of how much I’ve forgotten about it previously.
These days are the ones that make life worth living just as much as the overwhelmingly wonderful ones. They remind me that I’m human, but I’m alive. And this whole thing is just beautiful, for all the twists and turns it may throw my way.
And sometimes that reminder is everything I could ever need.