The Nature of Faith

This morning I read Romans 14 and was struck by the last line of the last verse: 'Whatever is not from faith is sin." As I meditated on this verse trying to grasp the practical implications of this for my life, I was drawn back to reflecting on the nature of faith. If faith is a set of doctrines that I believe or my belief in itself, then I'm not sure what to do with this verse. How do I interpret and "Whatever is not flowing from my belief is sin" or perhaps "Whatever is not in accordance with the doctrines of the church or biblical principles is sin"?

I remember earlier in my journeyt falling into a paralysis of analysis as I constantly checked and double checked my motives to see that they were from faith. As if I could even rightly discern my heart motivations or could seperate the various mixed motives and eliminate the less noble ones through some sort of mental exercise! I remember also a time in my journey when I thought of my "faith" primarily in terms of biblical principles and ideas to be understood and applied. If only I could read, grasp, understand, and apply all the biblical mandates and principles then everything would be "from faith". This too is an impossible task in daily life, and would create an unbearable burden of analysis of every situation to determine which principle(s) apply and how to apply them before doing anything.

But, what if faith is not primarily about content or about the quality or quantity of my trust or belief? What if faith is primarily relational? In Hebrews we are told that "without faith it is impossible to please Him for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is the rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. In John 5 we are warned that there are those who diligently seek the scriptures because they believe that by them they will have eternal life, but they refused to come to Jesus who was life. In John 17 we are told that eternal life is to know God and to know Jesus whom He sent. It is all about relationship.

So, that means that whatever is not done in relationship with God is sin. This makes more sense to me, and I believe fits better with the rest of Scripture. There are so many decisions I make that do not include Christ. There are so many unexamined parts of my life. Clearly God has made known to us the broader parameters, the fences beyond which we dare not tread; The Ten Commandments are a good summary of those, and the Sermon on the Mount provides greater clarity on how to interpret those, but the key is not to memorize and analyze. That is not the eternal kind of life.

Eternal life is to walk and talk with God. To involve Him in every aspect of our lives. To not just begin by the Spirit, but to walk with the Spirit day by day. (Gal. 5) As I go through my life, I can dialogue with my ever present God about my circumstances, relationships, ideas, emotions, and decisions. Whatever is not done in communion or in communication with the Spirit of God is sin. This is not undoable, or overburdensom; it's not easy either. I will have to adjust my mindset and to learn new disciplines, but perhaps this is what Paul meant by praying without ceasing 1 Thes. 5:17). I may be wrong and foolish about some of this, but I am still thirsty and this leads me to Jesus, the fountain of living water.

Bent

In Paralandra, C. S. Lewis uses fiction to explore the nature of man. He creates a cavalcade of characters that embody various perspectives and ways of living. I think one of the marks of good literature is that it makes you think. A good book will continue to bounce around in my head for weeks after reading, or at least the ideas will resurface and become a part of my mental landscape.

Just this morning I found myself reflecting on my own nature and gravitating back to Lewis' description of one particular character. He describes the character as bent. As I reflect on my soul, my good intentions, my choices, my desires, I find that this word, "bent", is an apt descriptor. I am not shattered or broken, not irredeemable or un-fixable. But I am deeply bent.

As I ruminated on this it suddenly occurred to me that the way a blacksmith straightens something that is bent is by heating and hammering. This thought rose in my mind as I was asking the Lord to straighten my bent soul. I believe that He has me in the fire right now and that the hammer is falling even as I write this. He is not doing this to be cruel. He is doing this in answer to my prayers, and for my own good. The heat and the pressure are indespensible parts of my re-formation. He is working on my bent soul. I want to be re-formed in the image of Christ, but I can't say that I always enjoy the process. So, I choose to trust and wait for the next straightening blow to fall.

The One Fixed Point

I have never had any desire to be a nomad. Nomads have no fixed home, instead they move from place to place taking whatever they can carry with them as they travel. Most nomads are pastoralists, driving their herds to the places where they can be find food and water and shelter from whatever weather is threatening them. My family and I are nomads, but we're not the ones doing the driving or choosing the next location, or even the time to move. We are nomads being driven along by God.

During the exodus, the Israelites left their homes and the only life they had ever known to follow God out of slavery and into the Promised Land. But, before He took them to the promised land, He trained them to follow Him and to trust Him. He appeared to them in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Whenever the pillar would move on, they would follow. Whenever the pillar would stop, they would stop. This has been something like my experience. Sometimes we have lived someplace for years, the longest has been 6 years, and sometimes for just days.

For the last 10 months we have been particularly nomadic. It is really wearing on us. Even after more than 10 years of a generally nomadic existence we still long for stability. We long for a little patch of earth with some kind of structure on it to be "our home". When we don't have this we feel unstable in our souls. I wasn't raised to be a nomad. It just doesn't feel right to me. I want a stable place that belongs to me; my own personal castle and private domain. Ah, there's the rub! God wants all of me, and He wants to be the Lord of every part of me, which leaves me know personal domain, no private fiefdom.

In the second book of C. S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, Paralandra, the one command that God gives to the perfect couple is that they live on the ever moving islands of paradise and never spend the night on the fixed land. As the protagonist struggles to understand the command he realizes that it is because God wants to remain their one fixed point. As long as they are on the moving islands they have to totally trust in Him. Their obedience demonstrates their trust in Him.

God is training me like the Israelites of old to trust in Him, to follow Him, o rely on Him. And like the Israelites of old I resist the training. I fail to trust, I fail to rely, but I can not fail to follow.