One of the most amazing things about God’s Kingdom is that, by being a conscious part of it I find myself in a truly global community through which God is able to speak and work in my life. This morning, I really needed that community. I won’t bore you with why, except to say that those who claim the title “Biblical Christians” might do well to read the verses in their Bible (even their interpretation thereof) that warn that no matter how true your statements, if you have no love you are no better than a clanging cymbal.
Some good friends gave me good advice. That helped. But, then, an email arrived in my inbox. It was the RSS feed from one of my favourite bloggers on Christian issues, Rachel Held Evans. Rachel has been in the media quite a bit over the past few weeks, as she finished living one complete year in an entirely “Biblical” way (not cutting her hair, living in a tent in the garden for one week every month during her period, no jewelry, etc). Well, yes, ironic, of course (that’s partly why I like her so much). Her almost daily insights on her blog are helpful, challenging, inspiring and smart in equal measure.
But today, her blog entry was just perfectly, precisely what I needed. It will be added to my personal liturgy as a prayer to be often repeated. Thank you, Rachel, for being God’s voice for me today.
I don’t want an easy faith
by Rachel Held Evans
A prayer for the journey in the Kingdom of God on earth
Some like to say that the bravest thing Christians can do is defend their faith, to stand their ground and refuse to change.
But it’s easier to defend our faith than to subject it to scrutiny.
It’s easier to dig in our heels than to go exploring.
It’s easier to regurgitate answers than to ask good questions.
It’s easier to cling to our beliefs than to hold them with open hands.
It’s easier to assume we’re always right than to acknowledge we may be wrong.
I don’t want an easy faith, I want a brave faith.
I want a faith that takes risks, that asks questions, that experiments, that evolves, that thrives amidst change and obeys amidst doubt. I want a faith that engages both my heart and my head, a faith that operates out of love, not fear, a faith that leaps when it needs to and crawls when it has to.
I want the kind of faith that moves mountains precisely because it is small: small enough to need, small enough grow, small enough to surrender to a God that is much bigger than it will ever be.
I don’t want an easy faith.
Source: Rachel Held Evans