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  • Writer's pictureKris Freudenthal

Creative Writing: Faith

Just a bit of creative rambling to let out some of the thoughts that have been trapped in my heart/mind for too long. The wind brushes a strand of hair against my face, reminding me that this is not a dream. This is reality. Simultaneously it reminds me of the limitations surrounding me. What more can I do? What more can I pray? How am I supposed to accept this reality with no guarantee of opportunities for change?

I wrestle with an inner body who knows truth from lies, but seems too distant for the first time in many years. She seems to know. She seems to hold the key to this elusive thing we call faith. And yet, her voice can’t be heard above the unanswerable questions circling around in my thoughts. How can she be so sure of what she can’t possibly know? The future is so grey and ambiguous, and yet she stands firmly rooted as if she can see more than the smoke that I see. How is this possible? What does she know that I seem to have forgotten? Why can’t I see beyond the struggles of the here and now?

Thorny vines wrap themselves around me slowly, entangling my emotions and my actions in a dance more akin to a violent outburst than a beautiful release of expression. The biological spears of the branches pierce my flesh in a motion that both pains me and releases me. Each responsibility is represented in their intertwined, forceful limbs. One by one they grow, thicker and tighter, making their way to my chest in aims of suffocation. And one by one I fight to cut them back, keep them at bay, hold them down long enough for the next breath to push me into continuance. How much longer can these bloody, torn arms of mine continue to push back, continue to fight, continue to be? How much longer, Lord, must I exist? When will this world finally claim it’s victory over this broken warrior of a daughter? How much more could it possibly have to throw my way? I have fought so many wars, so many battles. When will someone declare surrender? Must it be I? Because I don’t know that I can do that, either.

I know there are limitations to my conscious thoughts here in the living. But, how I long to see things the way You do, Father! How I crave Your point of voice, Your ability to speak and create into existence. Not to know all that You know, God. But simply to peek through the cracks of this tortuous humanity and still find the beauty that You claim as Yours. To simply hear the truths that Your voice echo throughout all of eternity in the momentary struggles of my day to day life. Just a tiny portion of Your understanding, Your wisdom, Your knowledge. But such striving is wasted time and energy, pushing me further out of my capacity to love once again.

Maybe that’s all that faith truly is, choosing to continue in the unknown, and accepting that the known can not be yours… for now. Maybe it’s nothing more than taking the next step, despite the thorns, despite the fears, despite the ripping of flesh, despite the fundamentally damaging forces that push to hold you back. Is it more than they ever teach within the halls of the man-made alters of faith? Is faith, in and of itself, more than can be explained in words? Is it a living creature, like love, that must be held, must be listened to, must be walked alongside of? Is this belief in the invisible something more than what is found in the black, white, and red letters of my Holy book? Is it, Lord?

Once again, the decision lies with me. Once again, the next step is in my sole discretion. Will I war on? Will I, with tired and sore arms, push back against the darkness and desire to resign? Will I choose to continue believing in the unknowable?

I must. For Him.

So I will.

And one day, He will show me all the gold found in hidden places. One day, He will make the wounds into scars, standing strong against future strikes.

One day, He will. And, for now, I will let that be enough faith to hold me. I will let that be enough, when I can’t be.

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