How I Found Faith in the Season

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In December of 2015, I’d bought a book called, Let Me Be Weak: What People in Pain Wish They Could Tell You. I didn’t know it was a Christian book, or I’m certain I’d have disregarded it before the prologue. I didn’t need anyone else telling me about “God’s timing,” “God’s plan,” or that “everything happens for a reason.”
But I did read that book. What I found inside was the story of how all the brokenness in the world would some day be healed. I knew this story. I’d heard it in Sunday school and half-heartedly believed it with an imperfect, shallow faith that asked for evidence and proof.
This time as I read the story, I kept thinking, “God sure sounds like Love.” And I found that I did – actually – have more than a shallow faith. In fact, I did whole-heartedly believe in that story of Love coming to heal our brokenness. I found a faith so perfect it required no proof.
Last Christmas, I sat in a church I didn’t belong to praying to a God who wasn’t mine. But I remembered my perfect faith in Love. And when I heard the words of this carol, I cried tiny, hot tears.
And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
Little did I know of the big love that would soon ring loud and deep in my life. (I’m crying those hot tears again. They may not be so tiny this time around.)