On the Days When I Believe
I woke up this morning.
After listening to a beautiful advent reflection on love by Adam during worship yesterday.
After some precious moments yesterday afternoon with my children and partner.
After dropping my children off with my ex-wife and feeling the pain that brings every other week.
After an evening bath with hot tea.
After receiving word that my grandmother would likely not live through the night.
I woke up this morning.
I woke up to a string of frustrating text messages.
I woke up and readjusted my schedule.
I woke up to love being shared with friends.
I woke up and took a bike ride to find my body again.
I woke up.
And for that I am thankful.
I also woke up believing that all of these things are a part of the flow of life. I woke up with a belief that there is something larger than myself at work in this world, guiding each of us to breathe and feel the full range of emotions. There’s a beauty in the pain, frustration, joy, love, sadness, and peace that we experience.
That is today and it is not everyday. Today, I believe. Other days, I struggle to make sense of life. Today, I believe. Other days I struggle with the idea that anything outside myself cares about my existence.
And that’s ok.
In this season of advent, there is an expectation that we all succumb to the season of believing and pretend that the struggle does not exist. We will sing our songs. We will talk of hope, peace, love, and joy that exists inside the Christian narrative. We will read stories of how Israelites waited in expectation for God to speak again. Those stories will tell us that God showed up in the tiniest of humans in the lowliest of places.
And if none of that makes sense to you right now, that’s ok.
There’s an ancient Hebrew prayer found in the scriptures dubbed The Shema. In it, we find the line “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” When the rabbi Jesus was asked the most important commandment, he quoted this and added to it. “And the second is like it, love your neighbor as yourself”. For much of my life I thought that true belief was an undying passionate love for God. In my deconstruction, I wondered how I could even believe in God, much less love this God, who seemed unconcerned with the death of my baby niece, the treatment of LGBTQIA+ individuals, and the maltreatment of humanity by the church, just to name a few things. And how could I love my neighbor who was a part of these atrocities? Over time, I embraced the doubt and cynicism as a part of my faith and as a part of my belief. Letting go of the rigidity that many have given to The Shema and Jesus’ words, I have embraced these as something to work toward instead of an easy checklist.
On the days when I believe, I embrace the shalom I feel. On those other days, I embrace the work I have to do in loving myself, my neighbor, and the God who may or may not exist.
Shalom, friends
Bryan Lee, Minister with Youth and their Families
