The Challenge of Faith

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for. the evidence of things not seen." - Hebrews 11:1

I pray for so much. CORRECTION. I pray a lot. And yet, it seems like I have received no answer. Maybe my prayers are too big. Maybe I am not putting forth the works to bring my faith to life. I'm not exactly sure.

Don't get me wrong. I've been blessed with so much. God has literally given me a new life, a glorious existence that I can thrive in, dwell in confidence - and start over. What has come with this new life is the urge to be a strong man, a provider, a husband, a father (to-be), and a lover. But my reality (right now) is that I can't really do much of that.

Years ago I made the crucial decision to leave my job as a teacher and become a pharmacist. What came with that dream was the reality that I would lose my income, my health insurance, my financial solvency.  It wasn't a decision made lightly and I have had an amazing experience - stress not considered - thus far.

But, here I am.

I have an amazing new family, people who have talents that are true blessings from God. Their talents are so great that it has given them fame and fortune and has built them strong positive reputations. And while I stand in God's glory for my my ability to be just as great as them, I must admit, sometimes I get overwhelmed and feel subpar. I know it's my mind playing tricks on me. I know that God has a lesson for me in all this.

This is my truest test of faith.

I used to be mean. Verbally demeaning. Arrogant. Ungrateful. All tools I used to assert my talents, to force others to acknowledge that something was special about me. However, being in this family is humbling. Because everyone is truly great. Great in a way that empowers others, that helps those who help themselves, who love in a way that teaches the downtrodden to become strong, generationally free from curses, and elevated to a new level.

But where does that leave me? I have a lot to give but I really don't think I've worked hard enough. So, I've decided to throw myself in the flame, faith in tow - hoping that God will refashion me to do his work but also cover me, especially when the heat is too intense.

This is the vow I make to myself. God wouldn't have called me out of darkness only to sit in the shadows. For now, I'll continue to pray and praise God in the meantime. I'll continue to work as hard as I can to be the man I'd like to be.

I'm trusting you Father. I'm officially offering myself to be used by you. It's hard. I can't lie. But I'd rather take the leap of faith than steps in fear.

adieu.

The Reflection of my Tears

Have you ever tried to bottle up your tears? It's an almost impossible feat. Yet, with the many facets of life, the fact that tears fall from your eyes is no coincidence at all. 

Joy and sadness reside there. So too, do anguish, fatigue, surprise, and happiness. But with eyes, so fragile, having witnessed all that God has blessed us with, they eventually need a release. WE need a release. 

Recently, I denied my eyes their freedom, enslaved them selfishly to hold on to the memory of one who I had so affectionately called "Pops." He was my spiritual father, my mentor, an older version of my younger self. We had similar struggles, battles that only God-provided mentorship and guidance would alleviate. It was in him that I was able to take the longest looks in the mirror and find joy, hope, and glory amidst all my lies, self-hate, doubt, and pretense. Pops helped me to become a man - of God. And my watery eyes told the story. 

It was a story I was not at all willing to share with this world, escapism at its best. I wouldn't release him until I had to, until I had the closure I needed, yet, dreaded. See, I had grown somewhat accustomed to Pops' presence. I depended on him for so much. But in the end, God reminded me why I am strong - why Pops was placed in my life in the first place. It was to his Glory, to his end. Pops was simply a vessel. And while I believe God's gift was fatherly love through the man that Pops was to me, he reminded me through our last correspondence that our relationship was only (physically) temporary. I could keep the love, but I had to let go of the man. 

And so tears came. They flowed. In a harsh outburst. Runaway slaves from an emotional captivity. Initially, I felt like I was abandoning him. But the relief I felt reassured me that I was indeed holding onto the memories but letting go of the physical. 

In those tears was freedom. Freedom to grow, to thrive, to be the legacy of greatness that God ordained and that Pops left behind. They cleansed my eyes, figuratively and literally, so that I could see clearly God's purpose in all of this. 

I released him in those tears so that I could honor him with a clear vision. 

So, I've decided never again to hold onto tears - even inasmuch as it helps temporarily. I can see now. A new day of clarity excites me. I look forward to all that God is preparing me for. 

fin.