What in the World is Faith?

Hint: it's not just an attitude.

5-15-22

I attended college for one semester then dropped out to go for long rides in old cars, on Greyhound busses, and with kind and brave folks who picked up hitch-hikers. For an account of that trip and some lessons it taught me, and to learn how -- soon after I returned home -- Billy Graham convinced me that Jesus is the answer, see Reading Brother Lawrence.

Back in college, I got introduced to the philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, a brilliant fellow whose reflections about churches (in 19th century Denmark) seemed to hold true to what I observed in 1960s California as I sought out a church, which Mr. Graham had urged us to do.

To keep myself from digressing too far, I will save details about those churches for later. For now, I'll just note that I became a lifelong fan and student of Kierkegaard.

Much of his theological writing focuses on  the differences between objective proofs of Christianity and subjective belief. Though he was one of his century's foremost intellectuals, he argued that our adherence to a belief system should not depend upon the evaluation of evidence or on reason, but on faith. He contended that belief based on evidence isn’t faith at all, because faith is from a source other than our reasoning minds. Belief based on evidence is reason, which is eminently fallible. What God wants is for us to connect with the faith that resides in us, and then to put that faith to good use.

Faith, Kierkegaard reminds us, is more than an attitude, it's a substance.

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

Olga Savitsky, while battling cancer, one Sunday in church explained that faith is something we all have, but most of us only apply it to certain parts of our lives. We may have faith about our finances, that what we need will always arrive. We may have faith in our friends or family, that they’ll stick by us, no matter what. We all at least have faith that when we fall asleep, we will wake up. Otherwise, we could rarely sleep.

Olga contended that we should recognize the faith we have, notice how it may run counter to the weight of our experience and observations, and consider the benefits of peace and security it gives us. God, she argued, wants us to extend that faith into other areas and to trust that he can and will heal us, even though evidence might suggest otherwise.

My Zoe will soon return from Boston to San Diego for summer and she is having trouble deciding on a means of transportation. She would prefer to travel with a certain friend who will go to San Francisco for an internship, and this friend is mighty reluctant to fly.

I can identify with the friend. For years, I was more than willing to drive great distances rather than allow myself to be confined to a contraption that looks too ungainly to rise off the ground let alone fly at 30,000 feet.

Even now, I only will climb aboard by applying faith to the journey, much as I do to the harrowing task of driving the California freeways. Faith is called for because panic allows no access to reason.

Faith prompts me to write books even though I often suspect that -- no matter my efforts to master the craft, to entertain, and maybe to put across some message or other -- nobody truly appreciates any of it.

Of course, faith can be dangerous. If it seems to fail, say we pray for Olga and she doesn’t get healed, we may begin to doubt God or whatever prompted us to choose our beliefs.  

But even when it seems to fail, faith has enriched our experience. And faith should be judged by the value of the process, not only by the results. If I have worked on a novel for years, if the process has given me joy, who am I to gripe because a reader rates it three on Amazon?  I got one of those today. Though Olga died despite her faith, the process drew her closer to God, which must have deepened the journey between this life and another, as author Aldous Huxley allegedly attempted by taking LSD on his deathbed. Theologian and USC professor Dallas Willard proposed that some people might be so fully engaged with their creator that when they move from here to eternity, at first they don't realize they have died.

Faith always empowers us, since exercising faith builds a stronger faith we can apply to other areas. To ambitions, friendships, parenting, or self-healing.

If we allow ourselves to sense its reality as something organic, we can grasp why the writer of Hebrews defined faith as substance -- something more solid than an attitude -- and then devoted a whole chapter to presenting examples of its power.

Faith may require stubborn folks like me to consciously surrender. And I need reminders. Here's my favorite.