"Statement of Faith", or, "Hoops, we are jumping them"

This is what I wish I could have said:

To believe is to “hold dear.” 

These are things that I hold dear:

I believe in doubt.  

I believe in knocking.

I believe in laying in the green grass and feeling that sudden dip of your body turning with the earth.

I believe that Jesus came so close to being who he was created to be that the lines between himself and God were blurred. Because of this, Jesus casts out fear.

I believe that even though we do violence to ourselves and to each other and to all of creation because of our fear, this isn’t who we are created to be.

I believe in the power of story.

I believe in breath. Inhale and Exhale.

I believe that Jesus taught us, through the power of stories, vulnerability, and community, how to live more like we were created to be.

I believe that the Scriptures are a testament and an inheritance.  They are a bunch of stories that do not tell us what to believe, but how to believe.

I believe that God’s presence is with us all the time, but when we break bread together, we have a way of naming that presence in such a way that unites us, makes God real for us.

I believe in water.

I believe that God does not will suffering. I believe that God can make good things out of bad.

I believe that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God.

I believe that God is the creator.  Everything that God creates has a “piece” of God in it.
That means we're all family.

I believe in rest, and in sea glass, and in flesh and blood and that God is part of all of history, even as it changes and moves and is birthed and re-birthed.  Which means God changes too.
I believe that God wants us to crawl in God's lap. Maybe to take a nap, maybe to tell a story, maybe just to pat God's cheek and smile.

I believe that we can be what God is doing in the world. 

We are called to do what God is doing in the world. This is the kingdom of God.

I believe we are practicing resurrection when we do this.

This is what I tried to say:

God is the Creator of heaven and earth who invites us, even in our weakness, to be in relationship with God and with each other, participating in creation with God, and inviting others into the dance and beauty of this creation. We, who are created in the very image of God, experience God through God's transcendence, through the incarnation of Jesus Christ, and through the workings of Holy Spirit. We feel separated from God when we sin, when we fall short of the creation that God has made us to be, and when we fail to trust in God's full and complete love for us. The incarnate love of God reveals God's absolute care for us, showing that God is fully in relationship with us, suffering as we suffer, rejoicing as we rejoice.  We, as the catholic Church, are called to share this presence of a fully relational God with others, through word and deed, baptizing by the power of the Holy Spirit, and working toward the fulfillment of God's kingdom of justice and joy for all, a kingdom which is close at hand. Because of this, we rejoice that nothing can separate us from the love of God through Christ Jesus our Lord. We celebrate this and our unity with Christ through the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, through the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup, which binds us to God and to each other.  

This is what I ended up saying:

God is the Creator of heaven and earth who invites us, even in our weakness, to be in relationship with God and with each other, participating in creation with God, and inviting others into the dance and beauty of this creation. 

God is one, but is revealed through the great mystery of God’s “three-ness.” We, who are created in the very image of God, experience the mystery of God’s oneness through God's transcendence, traditionally expressed through the imagery of father, through the incarnation of Jesus Christ, who, being God’s Son, became vulnerable to us in love, and through the workings of Holy Spirit, the living, intimate witness of God in our lives today.

Jesus Christ, as God’s Son, is the perfect response to God’s calling to all of us, and thus, embodies God in flesh and bone for us all. The Holy Spirit is the presence of God within all of us, who leads us and directs us, calling us into relationship with God, and draws us into the kingdom of God which is here, now, and also yet to be.

We feel separated from God when we sin, when we fall short of the creation that God has made us to be, and when we fail to trust in God's full and complete love for us. 

The incarnate love of God reveals God's absolute care for us, showing that God is fully in relationship with us, suffering as we suffer, rejoicing as we rejoice.  This incarnational love is fully expressed through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who although in the very likeness of God, accepted the humiliation of death on a cross in order to destroy the power of violence and death, and invites us into the community of the Kingdom of God, where every tear is wiped away and death is no more. This is our hope. This is what is yet to be, but also what is here and now, available to all of us who call out to God. God’s kingdom stands within and outside of time; God’s kingdom has no end.

The Holy Spirit speaks to us in many ways, but especially through the Scriptures, which are “God breathed” testimonies of who God is and who we are as God’s children.  The Scriptures are a living text, and although historically rooted, are viable and applicable to our lives and our particular contexts, guiding and encouraging all of us through stories of God’s relationships with God’s people throughout history. 

We celebrate this living faith and our unity with Christ through the sacrament of communion, through the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup, which binds us to God and to each other.  We celebrate this living faith and our unity with Christ through the sacrament of Baptism, through the Grace given to us that is experienced by the pouring of water and the support of a community. These are visible signs of an inward change, and communal glimpses of a future kingdom here on earth.

We, as the catholic Church, are called to share this presence of a fully relational God with others, through word and deed, baptizing by the power of the Holy Spirit, and working toward the fulfillment of God's kingdom of justice and joy for all, a kingdom which is close at hand. Because of this, we rejoice that nothing can separate us from the love of God through Christ Jesus our Lord. 

Mark 12:38-44

“As he taught, he said, ‘Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.’

He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.’”

My greatest insecurity is that I don’t believe “right,” that I don’t have enough faith. I know that God isn’t up “there” with a scale or a giant chart, tallying all the good things I do and measuring them against all the bad things I do. But I cannot stop the cash register, the faith checking account that says “insufficient funds.” I come up short in the economy of faith every day. And I’m reminded of my poverty every time I step on my seminary’s campus, every time I long to be friends with someone more “conservative” than I am, every time I have to cross my fingers during the creeds at church. I try to find hope that my church is “a reformed church, always reforming,” but I still may never have enough coins of faith to get me through the doors, no matter how much they discount the admission fees.

But after the birth of my son, I can’t help but wonder whether or not this “economy of faith” is what Jesus talks about at all.

Just last week we had the raising of Lazarus as our Gospel Reading. Martha stops him from entering Lazarus’s tomb because of the smell of a decaying body, and Jesus says, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” He sees Martha’s lack of faith, and raises Lazarus anyway.

Another favorite: The father of a boy who is possessed by a spirit, comes to Jesus and says, “if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us.” And Jesus says to him, “If you are able! – All things can be done for the one who believes.” And the father cries out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” Perhaps, Jesus comes not just to reward those who believe, but to help those who don’t.

When Jesus asks the paralyzed man at the pool, “do you want to be made well?” the man answers him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” The paralyzed man doesn’t answer his question, doesn’t say, “Yes! And YOU can do it!” No, the man begins to whine, to give excuses as to why he hasn’t yet been healed – hardly an example of ideal faith.

Jesus heals the paralyzed man who is lowered through the roof by his friends, for “when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’” It’s not the faith of the paralytic that heals him; instead, the faith of his friends is recognized by Jesus.

And even Jesus’ closest friends don’t understand his teachings. They don’t recognize him after his crucifixion. Thomas is famous for his struggle to believe.

For instance, when Jesus calms the storm, Jesus rebukes the disciples, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

And when Peter, walking on the water, begins to sink, Jesus says, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

The people in the Gospels who suffer from the poverty of belief are many, some notable, future leaders, others, simple, desperate.

We pray the “Our Father.” We often think of God as the perfect parent.

Would I love my son any less if he didn’t believe I existed?

Do I love my son less because he doesn’t really know me?

When he cries out to me in his hunger, do I make him profess that there really is milk before I nurse him?

The story of the woman with the two copper coins can be about how God can make small things great, or about how God can create greatness where there is none. It can be a story of the mustard seed, that when planted, yields great fruit. But for me, today, this story is about how God’s economy is not our economy. Contrary to what many CEOs and conservatives might argue, God is not a capitalist. There is no exchange of goods when we enter into a relationship with God. I used to think that one had to believe “right,” to “profess Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior” in order to be “saved.” But that is only continuing with the language of an exchange of goods. “God, I give You my belief, if You’ll give me salvation” (or security, or money, or whatever) – a quid pro quo.

Some people come before God with shopping bags full of faith. And oh, how I envy them. They are rich in belief; they live in mansions of security and assurance and closeness to God. But I am so grateful that there are those stories of people who come to God with empty paper bags, and God heals them anyway. Jesus invites us, even in the poverty of our doubt. He says, “Take up your mat and walk.” He says, “Come here, touch my side, feel the wounds in my hands, experience me, even in your doubt.”

Simone Weil: “We must only wait and call out. Not call upon someone, while we still do not know if there is anyone; but cry out that we are hungry and want bread. Whether we cry for a long time or a short time, in the end we shall be fed, and then we shall not believe but we shall know that there really is bread. What surer proof could one ask for than to have eaten it? But before one has eaten, it is neither need for nor particularly useful to believe in bread. What is essential is to know that one is hungry…”

And really, the bag is not empty. God just counts with different currency. The faith is there because the hunger is there. It’s there when I doubt and struggle and worry. Faith is like the air we breathe. And our faith is there because we need to breathe. When it is there, and we realize it, we are grateful. But when we don’t, we still keep breathing.