Back to Regularly Scheduled Blogging

Okay...my journal project for my writing class is complete. So, now I'm going to start blogging if not everyday, every other day. Well, at least a short term goal for the duration of this summer. Wish me luck because I need the disciple of consistent writing that's not for an academic paper. Yikes!!, right? So for my first restart for the hundredth time, here's the last article I wrote for my writing class. Let me know what you think :-).

How can I possibly fall when I know how to walk

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like not knowing. When I was barely out of my teens and on my own, I used to say, “Just let me know what’s ahead of me. I’ll be able to prepare and I can deal with anything that comes my way.” I must have certainty; for certainty leads to a life of self-control. This desired sense of fulfillment leads me to a favorite morning affirmation, “I need to get all my ducks in a row.”

Last spring term I was reintroduced to the idea of ambiguity. The word was used in the context of a seminary course on the New Testament of the Christian Bible. The declaration of ambiguity unfolded an idea that people live in the tension of knowing exactly who and what God is, how God operates, or simply not. I became aware that people must acknowledge this tension of knowing or not knowing, all the while leaning into this thing called ambiguity where faith rests. So a year later, I’m still struggling with the role of ambiguity in faith. I’m still struggling with just saying the word ambiguity, let alone the juxtaposition of faith to ambiguity. Does that mean that doubt embraces faith; and certainty brushes across the cheek of being non-faithful?

This past autumn, walking with purpose across the street from where I live, I fell. I could not accept the fact that I had simply fallen and hit my head. I built a whole story, with certainty mind you, of how the speed of my walk combined with the type of tennis shoe I was wearing allowed my toe to be caught in the uneven portion of the sidewalk. If nothing else, it made the story more interesting than the plainly spoken: In the act of not being able to regain my balance after stumbling, I fell. Falling was not part of the plan that day. Five and a half months later, I still do not walk with the certainty in my steps as I did before. I felt so dumb and at a loss. How could I fall when I know how to walk.

I’ve heard the Yiddish proverb, “Man plans; God laughs.” This colloquialism loosely based upon a line in Psalm 33 speaks of God frustrating the plans of the people. It leaves some doubt as to the assuredness in which we start each new day. But as for me, I’m learning that the faith in God does not come from a point of having to understand, but from the transforming fire of grace. The specifics of life are unknown. Many of us would not contest that notion. Events we’re looking forward to get canceled. Accidents occur. Work is not found. Cancer is diagnosed. Feelings are hurt. People are dismissive. And loved ones die without warning. However, in the midst of the doubt and through the ambiguity of faith, grace is found.

Grace is in the moment of exasperation that breaks into an unexplainable sense of peace, by a smile from a stranger, the phone call from the long lost relative, or even just the right advice that brings comfort in the moment. Theologian Paul Tillich said in a sermon, Struck by Grace, “In grace something is overcome; grace occurs in spite of something...Grace is the reunion of life with life...” We cannot have all the answers but in the midst of the tension of ambiguity, we can embrace the mystery of not knowing by finding the grace to be open to where the mystery calls us.