Faith

The word "faith" conjures up all sorts of images within me and most of them are not pleasing images.  The first and most  painful memory is one of a community of which I was a part in my early twenties.  I was heavily involved in their music and I played piano with some of the other musicians there. I truly loved these people and my fortune and my life were all wrapped up in theirs.  I was drawn to them because of their music, which for me is not an unusual thing.  Music is nearly always the hook that lures me in to any group, and worshiping with this community was no exception.  I grew to love them and their ways.  I learned a bit of Hebrew and I learned about some holidays that I hadn't grown up celebrating.  Each of these people had deep faith.  In addition, many of them had experienced being kicked out of their communities and families because of their beliefs...because of their faith.  I also suffered in small ways because of my connection with them.  My pastor at the time worried that I had become involved in a cult.  My family was uncomfortable because I worshiped on Saturday night instead of Sunday.  But I continued on with my people because I was learning about my faith; I was learning about my history.  It was exciting, new and risky and I LOVED the music.

In short order I was a part of their worship team, playing the piano of course.  I learned Jewish music and I learned to play in a new and different style from anything I had played before.  I continued to learn a bit of Hebrew and to learn about Israel...not only ancient Israel which I had learned about in my childhood, but modern Israel and Jewish people and culture in America.  I considered this group to be my family.  The pastor was a very young man, in his mid-twenties.  He was a very good musician and I grew to love and respect him.

Then I became ill.  I had developed pneumonia. I needed medication and bed rest.  I also called Aaron, my young pastor and fellow-musician and I asked him to pray.  Aaron and my other friends prayed for me, told my fever to leave, and ordered me to be healed.  I hadn't experienced that kind of prayer before and I was a bit intimidated because Aaron refused to acknowledge that I was still sick after he had prayed.  My fever remained and I still felt very sick.  I did finally heal slowly.  God answered those prayers although not instantly, and I got better.  Aaron told me that my healing had taken longer than it should have because I didn't have enough faith.  I thought about faith long and hard, in a worried sort of way, and I was scared that Aaron was right.  I continued playing music with that group, but they became dissatisfied with me.  As a pianist in the group, they said, they also wanted a "leader" who would "lead by example".  Aaron felt that although my musical skills were outstanding, that spiritually I was lacking.  He asked me to stop playing with the team and to remove myself from such a visible position of leadership until such time that I developed more faith.  That faith he said would become evident when two things happened: when I spoke in tongues and when I was healed from cerebral palsy.  I was told that I was not filled with the Holy Spirit, and thus could not be in any kind of leadership.  I was asked to cease playing the piano with them and just be one of the congregation until such time that I had more faith.

I was devastated, humiliated and angry.  I began to doubt my faith.  I worried that Aaron was right, and that even though I thought that I believed, perhaps I really didn't.  In addition to my obvious physical defect, I now carried a spiritual defect as well, and since I could not will myself to be healed or to speak in tongues, I simply withdrew.  I felt like a leper and that I would have leprosy forever.  I couldn't hide it from anyone, not from God, not from other people and not even from myself.  In the past I had learned a little about the Holy Spirit.  I knew he was supposed to be "the comforter", but apparently he was the opposite.  He was the agitator, who increased my pain and refused to lower himself to help the defective.

I have since learned about the Holy Spirit.  I learned about him from reading the Bible.  I learned that he doesn't increase our pain, rather he gives us comfort.  I learned that he helps me in my weakness.  I learned that he judges fairly.  Not only did I learn about the Holy Spirit, but I experienced him and that changed my life.  He helps me in my pain.  He eases my anxiety.  He reminds me about what the truth is, and he helps me when I just can't go on any more.  He helps me take steps when my legs feel as if they are breaking.  He makes me strong when I'm facing a long walk, or a flight of stairs.  He gives me the oomph to make the decision to get out of bed and stand on my two feet.  Sometimes he gives me rest.  Sometimes, when I can't summon the strength to form words, he lets me speak in tongues and he hears me.

Today I read from the book of Hebrews about people of faith.  I read about Abel, Enoch Abraham, Moses, Samuel, David, and all the others through history.  All of these people died never having received what was promised, yet they believed God, and they embraced God's truth from afar even though they didn't experience it all in this life.  So I am thinking that maybe faith for me would mean believing in God's goodness even though cerebral palsy keeps screaming in my face that a good God couldn't possibly allow it.  Maybe faith means believing in speaking in other tongues even when I am only speaking English.  Maybe faith means being stalwart when everything around me is crumbling to pieces.  Maybe faith means knowing that I don't suffer alone.  It feels as if I do, but the truth is that Jesus knows about the agony of nails in his feet.  The truth is that I don't suffer alone.  He comes alongside me, even though I may feel alone.  Maybe faith means knowing that cerebral palsy is only part of this stupid little life and is only temporary, but healing from cerebral palsy is the real truth that will last forever.  Maybe faith is deciding that what is forever far outweighs in importance whatever is temporary.  Maybe faith means keeping your eyes on that.  Maybe faith means that you ACT as if what is forever outweighs what is temporary.  And maybe faith means that sometimes healing breaks through from forever right into temporary.  Maybe that's why all Christians everywhere pray, "Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."  And last of all maybe faith means that if I die and I still have cerebral palsy, there is no reason to be disappointed because this life was just passing.  I'll be living in the truth forever.  

Aaron was a very young pastor with much passion and little experience.  I wish I knew where he was now because if could find him I would throw my arms around him and tell him how much I appreciate his prayers.  Then I would sit down and play the piano and sing while he played the auto harp and the guitar.  I might even sing in tongues.  If I don't get to see Aaron and the others on this earth, then I will just keep my eyes on what is forever.  Because someday in the next world we will all be playing instruments and singing in worship together.  What we hope for, what we know is real will become reality.  I'll be the one leaping around like a pony.  And when I'm not leaping I'll be making music with Aaron, Duane, Dave, Mrs. Searles, Mrs. De Wit, Gene, Margie, Jackie and others.   That is what is real and that is the truth on which I will remain fixed.