Faith is less about needing to have something proved, something we can justify, and more about our willingness to see the affirmation of God’s presence. God “proves” the divine presence over and over. We do everything we can to talk ourselves out of seeing it, believing it, and having the courage to name it.

I write these words sitting in my office in Oakland, California. A place, I have been recently told, that is one of the least religious places in the country. The Bay Area I would suggest, is a place of ardent atheism. For as non-binary as the progressive Bay Area seeks to be in some spaces when it comes to religion there are the smart people who know better and the crazy Christian nationalist who are all awful. There is little space in between for the faithful, or for the faithful who are not semi-buddhist or alternative-spiritualists. To profess one’s faith is not the norm, to give thanks to God for the gifts of life is counter to the self-actualization and personal achievement we worship.

So I am doing something a little scary for myself right now; I know there are people who will look at me a little strangely for being one of “those” people. By which, I think they mean, someone who believes in God. Not just in theory but in the day to day of my life, my breath, and my being. But I feel like it is time. Christ says you will be despised for me and I am working on shedding my people pleasing ways so it is all coming together, even if I do so with trepidation.

I am an interfaith chaplain by training, I grew up in Judaism, I came to Christ through an awareness of grace, I practice meditation and read the wisdom literature of many traditions. I am not saying that one group got it right and everyone else got it wrong. I am saying God is good, and God is ready to be active in our lives if we will make the space for that to happen. This is my testimony of that truth in the way that I live it. It is scary to let go, but you can’t catch anything new if your hands are clenched shut trying to hold on to what you have right now, whether that is something physical or simply a way of looking at the world.

The beginning of this year was personally very difficult for me. I experienced some things that caused a great deal of sadness, and fear, and anger, and despondency. Most of us have been at this place in our lives at some point, most of us will be there again at some point. Because of my own faith experience and practice I knew the thing to do was to keep my discipline of prayer and meditation, to be very intentional in showing up each day, even as I might feel nothing, I would doubt, and I would keep trying to direct the healing in the way I thought I needed it.

I would doubt but I would pray and I would get a little nudge, kind words from someone, an affirming message of the work I was doing, a coincidence that felt supportive. And then I would work on talking myself out of feeling that affirmation as divine. My heart knew what was true but my head lives in a place that says that is crazy (literally and metaphorically). Yet I kept the discipline. I sat, I wrote, I prayed. Everyday. About six weeks ago a book came off the shelf in the middle of the night, not a book that could easily come off a shelf, no cat paw access, no breeze: it was tucked in tight. When I investigated in the morning it felt like I should not ignore this message so I read the book. It was a fine book, entertaining, a little dated and odd but nothing dramatic. Until the very last page.

“…he seemed to hear a distant voice saying a commonplace text he had heard somewhere, ‘Can ye drink of the cup that I drink of?'”* My heart sank and my heart soared. I had felt so alone, I had felt like evil always won, that the goodness of God was unreal. And then this book fell off a shelf and I was reminded very starkly that whatever the worst of what we are going through is, Jesus has done more, not to minimize our pain but to remind us that we go through darkness and there is a light beyond our ability to imagine light on the other side. That is what his suffering showed us. That is what his love promises.

A week ago I had a conversation with a stranger that affirmed the direction my vocation is taking, and then surprise compensation for that work. How many signs do I need that this is where I need to be, that the hard things don’t last, that the outcome might not be what I was imagining but that is only because my imagination is not big enough to contain what God is doing.

This is my testimony to God’s grace and goodness. Pray to see, pray to hear, and then watch and listen. It doesn’t make the hard things easier, but we are not alone, and we do not have to fear.

*The Man Who Was Thursday, by G.K. Chesterton