1 a : allegiance to duty or a person : loyalty b (1) : fidelity to one’s promises (2) : sincerity of intentions

2 a (1) : belief and trust in and loyalty to God (2) : belief in the traditional doctrines of a religion b (1) : firm belief in something for which there is no proof (2): complete trust

3 : something that is believed especially with strong conviction; especially: a system of religious beliefs <the Protestant faith>

Of course, there is the popular Hebrews 11:1 description of faith,

Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see. (NLT)

or

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (NKJV)

Regardless of whether a person is religious or not, the word faith has probably played a role. Either as the antonym of “doubt” or “fear”, or maybe as a synonym for “belief”.

I.E.

“Hey, I’m not buying this.” “Man, just have faith.”

OR

“Are you kidding me, this is terrifying. ” “Man, just have faith.”

OR

“I don’t think I can do this.” “Man, I have faith in you.”

“Have faith” is a phrase heard over and over again, but what does it mean? If I say I have something, it’s pretty clear that I own it, or possess it. If someone else tells me to “have something”, it usually means they possess it and are freely giving it to me or that they have deemed it under their realm of authority to  transfer it to me.

I.E.

“I have a muffin.”

OR

“That’s a lovely vase.” “Really? Man, you can have it.”

OR

<Sitting in a waiting room> “I really want to eat that muffin.” “Man, it’s free for anyone to take, just have it.”

What if people saying “just have faith” are misspeaking and really intend to say, “you have to have faith”. It takes on a different meaning. Now can either be something they have ownership of and can freely “allow” you to take or receive, or now, realizing your life is lacking and in desperate need, they have taken it upon themselves to make you aware of that fact, from either good intent or pride.

I.E.

“Oh my goodness man, to have to have this chocolate mousse, it’s to die for.”

OR

“Man, you have to have the ability to deal with your own problems.”

What’s funny about faith in Christianity is that faith is associated with a group of powerful words: hope and love (1 Cor 13:13) that, at least in my opinion, are significantly more prevalent and better understood in society. Having hope and having love aren’t as vague as having faith. Clearly, you can hope and can love, but can you faith? We can distinguish between hoping and wishing (Mandela’s character hopes, the audience wishes); loving and liking; but what about faith and belief? Can hope exist without defeat (or its existence), can love exist without hate (or its existence), can faith exist without fear/doubt (or its existence)?

When the thought of “having faith” came to mind, my concept of faith evolved over time. Originally, I thought you have to take the fear you have and make it into faith.

Aren’t faith and fear mutually exclusive though? Should one only exist in the absence of the other?

Let’s be real though, can any person really be without fear? It would seem like no ordinary person would be able to have faith if this were the case, but what if it were more gradual?

As fear dissipated, faith would overtake it. Right? Yet, the concept of being 30% full of fear and 70% full of faith doesn’t make sense. If I’m afraid, i’m afraid, and if I have faith, I have faith, don’t I? Can I be 100% fearful and 100% faithful?

What if faith isn’t acting to remove fear, but acting in spite of fear – a person’s faith wouldn’t be a demographic on the back of a card, like someone’s height or weight. It would be the result of a decision a person took every single day of his/her life. Do I take the step, or not?

So what does it take for you to be willing to jump over that giant chasm in front of you called Fear? Maybe it comes down to what you focus on. How about instead of focusing on what’s clearly visible; fear, we chose to focus on what’s on the other side, the invisible?

Inspiration. I remember reading a letter from Compassion’s Child Survival Program about the number of children dying in third world countries and how some money I had donated had saved lives. Pretty impressive story; probably to get more money out of me. I read about a young mother and boy who was about 15 months old and on the verge of death. The money donated through this program was able to give him hospital care and save his life. What about about the long term effects; how could this affect population crises and is this kind of work really sustainable in the long run? Money, population crises, sustainability? Really? Lives are being saved, and hurting people are being comforted. Inspiration.

Find whatever it takes for you to forget those visible distractions and focus on the ultimate good at the end. Different people have different means of being inspired; if the next step of faith is what you need to take, get inspired.

It took somewhere between 30 and 40 minutes to pick Planty out from among his peers to be my own. Calling it a journey of discovery would be a tad misguided since most of the time was made up of standing still glaring at plant information tabs and wondering how I could convert units such as direct, indirect, or low to lumens, and how I didn’t know what a lumen actually was. I also started wondering about which direction my windows face and why my school didn’t offer Guugu Yimithirr as a foreign language (what?); would’ve been useful – what’s that saying about hindsight?

After I paced back and forth between shrubbery, bushes, miniature trees, flowers, and the like – cautiously dragging my flip-flop laden (slightly cold) feet so as not to wet and rewet them with what I assumed to be leftovers of Planty’s lunch  - I decided to pick the Peace Lily, Planty the Peace Lily. My decision was based on some algorithm involving size, maintenance upkeep, color, and sunlight and window face direction estimations. What the formula actually was; I can’t recall.

I bought the plant from a cashier from Home Depot. Let’s call her Home Depot Lady.

I finally walked over to the check out aisle, most probably to the relief of Home Depot Lady. She really liked my selection of plant, and gave me some tips on how to care for it. A good amount of sunlight and not too much water. She felt the soil and mystically gathered how much moisture was within, sharing that I wouldn’t have to water Planty for another week; 7 days. A warning though: too much water and Planty would become jaundiced; not enough water – and Planty would start looking… well, more like me.

My new plant needed some space that required moving stuff around. Let’s call it Rearrangement.

I started noticing how much bigger or smaller you can make a room look by simply shifting a couch or table a few inches one way or the other. Even though the physical distance between the couch and the television hadn’t changed, it seemed a lot farther away. I didn’t consider Rearrangement in my algorithm. Planty – high maintenance.

Day 5 – Planty starts drooping. Day 5 != Day 7, so it can’t be a lack of water… clearly it’s not in the right position to get the most sunlight. I moved Planty around the apartment as the sun moved across the sky to make sure he got what he needed, all the while thinking, “This is definitely not sustainable.”  No matter; Planty kept getting more and more depressed as the day rolled on.

My vast knowledge of botany is summarized as follows: Sunlight + Water = Healthy Plant. If Sunlight goes up, but Healthy Plant is still going down, Water must be going down faster than Sunlight rises.

A good washing down, and a day later, Planty was stretching upward and outward.

It taught me something. Planty did what he could with what he had. Regardless of how much Planty “tried” to look healthy, it didn’t amount to much – at least to an outside perspective like my own.

I think people are like that sometimes. Those things that we pride ourselves in; things that we would like to define ourselves by are things that we are most willing to hide when we think they are deficient. Although not especially enlightening, when we try to be strong, or do the best with what we’ve got – distracting outsiders with charades so our wounds are hidden – we tend to expose ourselves even further.

Swarm. The day’s schedule summarized in seconds. Could-do’s became Must-do’s. Might-do’s became Must-do’s. To-Do’s became Must-do Now’s. Must-do’s became burdensome. A glance at the clock; it was reining. “What for?”

Reflect. Murals of vibrant memory clips separated by a thin strand of logic become sequential events. Much like a reel of film. And just as cumbersome to roll up tidily if carelessly left to its own will. “Why not?”

Release. The countdown, the anticipation – the fear. “When?”

…It was nighttime and we sat by the fire stretching our arms toward the flames as we listened to stories and watched the moon and the stars retire. The red coal from the firewood lit our faces in the dark and wisps of smoke continuously rose toward the sky. Pa Sesay, one of my friends’ grandfather, had told us many stories that night, but before he began telling the last story, he repeatedly said, “This is a very important story.” He then cleared his throat and began:

“There was a hunter who went into the bush to kill a monkey. He had looked for only a few minutes when he saw a monkey sitting comfortably in the branch of a low tree. The monkey didn’t pay him any attention, not even when the footsteps on the dried leaves rose and fell as he neared. When he was close enough and behind a tree where he could clearly see the monkey, he raised his rifle and aimed.  Just when he was about to pull the trigger, the monkey spoke: ‘If you shoot me, your mother will die, and if you don’t, your father will die.’ The monkey resumed its position, chewing its food, and every so often scratched its head or the side of its belly.

“What would you do if you were the hunter?”

This was a story told to young people in my village once a year. The storyteller, usually an elder, would pose this unanswerable question at the end of the story in the presence of the children’s parents. Every child who was present at the gathering was asked to give an answer, but no child ever did, since their mother and father were both present. The storyteller never offered an answer either. During each of these gatherings, when it was my time to respond, I always told the storyteller that I would think it over, which of course was not a good enough answer.

After such gatherings, my peers and I – all the children between the ages of six and twelve – would brainstorm several possible answers that would avoid the death of one of our parents. There was no right answer. If you spared the monkey, someone was going to die, and if you didn’t, someone would also die.

That night we agreed on an answer, but it was immediately rejected. We told Pa Sesay that if any of us was the hunter, we wouldn’t have gone hunting for monkeys. We told him, “There are other animals such as deer to hunt.”

“That is not an acceptable answer,” he said. “We are assuming that you as the hunter had already raised your gun and have to make the decision.” He broke his kola nut in half and smiled before putting a piece in his mouth.

When I was seven I had an answer to this question that made sense to me. I never discussed it with anyone, though, for fear of how my mother would feel. I concluded to myself that if I were the hunter, I would shoot the monkey so that it would no longer have the chance to put other hunters in the same predicament…

I sat in the car, motioning to take my headphones off and I made out “God”, “Father” and other Christian words that seemed to signal in my mind – “This is a sermon” over the radio. After turning it off, the driver got to talking about Charleston and the area, and my plans in it all. He talked about the ratio of girls to guys (~8:1) and how being a young single guy is a great opportunity for me – heyyyy. He asked me if I’ve seen the show “Bad Girls”, and it sounded familiar – so I said yes. He started naming some names and I realized I had no idea what he was talking about. What I remember: there were “some built girls” on that show – and, I have to be careful, because not all the girls around here (Charleston) were ones to spend time with.

He got a phone call, and towards the end of the call I noticed he started referring to me – “He’s got a good spirit.” I looked up at him, “You’ve got a good spirit,” he said, “I can see that in you.” In an instant, his talk changed and he ran right into a gospel presentation. Outlining creation and the fall, and he spoke about how the Law couldn’t save us, but God in His grace made a way. He dived into the history of Satan and finished off with the importance of the Holy Spirit, and how it enables us to live with power and authority. It was at that point that I noticed a Bible on the dashboard on the front left side of the cab, as he patted it, referring to it in his discourse. Talk about an intro.

Thursday | February 11, 2010 – I get a call from Norene about my security clearance going through. “You ready to get out of that snow yet?” Wow, in an instant, what I’ve planned for the next few weeks completely disappears in favor of what is happening and is in planning right now.

Friday | February 12, 2010 – I get a call from GD Electric Boat. “We’d like to extend you an offer…” The rest doesn’t matter. Now I’ve got to decide what’s best – and what to do, regardless of my answer to the former. Time to let the boys and girl know that I can’t go to Altanta next week.

Saturday | February 13, 2010 – Snowbowl. Football in the snow teaches some very good lessons. Halfbacks and fullbacks have a hard job. Location, location, location. PM Prayer Meeting. Prophecy – hearing some pretty crazy things about my future, and where God wants to take me. New destination: SC.

Sunday | February 14, 2010 - Red for Haiti (also, Valentine’s Day). “I see that many of you wearing red aren’t married. You should be focusing all of your love on Jesus, because He is our Savior and He alone is worthy!” Nice… (see reflection on Feb 15′s Church Open Air Meeting)

Monday | February 15, 2010 – Walt Whitman. New wardrobe, and new Macy’s card. Church Open Air Meeting. I get to present the ideas the youth committee has come up with for the church’s children and young adults. Communication is so crucial and has to be a top priority. Flight, Youth Training Endeavor. Job, Jensen, and I create 5 Flyte Crews, and choose some Flyte Crew leaders.

Thursday | February 18, 2010 – Jensen and I work on some more Flyte ideas. Justy and Stephan are in on talking about our Commit theme and Evangelism, respectively. I need to shop some more.

Friday | February 19, 2010 - Snowbowl II. I’m just a spectator today. After my feet freeze, I warm up in the car – simultaneously trying to plan what I’m going to speak about on Sunday morning and dozing off.

Saturday | February 20, 2010 – AM Prayer Meeting. Our house is packed! It’s great seeing some familiar faces. Snowbowl III? Two hand touch – low impact, still fun. The young guys get together and talk about who we are as Christians. Flyte is introduced. PM Prayer Meeting. In the hustle and bustle of getting tables set up, and food where it should be, I get to share a few words about moving. The church body and their prayers have been really crucial in my development. “At least make a friend named ‘Gym’.” Ha, you got it boss.

Sunday | February 21, 2010 – Church. A new kid from the area, Junior, comes for the morning service. We get to talking – but he leaves before the end of service. I hope he comes back. Good-byes and Keep in Touches. T-G-I-Fridays. “Are you going with Jophy somewhere?” “I, uh… hmm…” It’s a good time hanging out, eating, and talking with great friends and family. Afterward, Joph and I talk about Flyte with Pastor Ben. G-Unit. I finally head over to my last G-unit for the foreseeable future and talk about we’re a small cup of water in the ocean of God’s plan. “Deep.”

Monday | February 22, 2010 - Meaningful words from a good friend. Great steak and some great talk from 1 pm to 6 pm. Some more shopping, and some more Flyte prep.

Tuesday | February 23, 2010 – DAS. They come, load up Shelby, and slowly pull away. I’ll see her in a week. JOYCE. The movers come in, and in an instant, half my room is cleared out. Wow, that was easy.

Wednesday | February 24, 2010 – Day 1.

Excited, yea – but not as the beast that rears its head through jumping up and shouting, or the brimming child that reveals itself while the prize you’ve desired for so long, or worked so hard for, is just within grasp. It’s one that is inherently tied to fear, or preoccupation – the type where you let yourself become overwhelmed with thoughts and visions of the unknown, but ground yourself when you realize that your thoughts and visions will be tested in a matter of days and hours. This kind of excitement has levels; those dictated by time and those dictated by commitment. Being at the airport, with the flight mere hours away – the time gate was wide open – something my cousin and I could both go through and be a part of. The commitment gate, though, required a pass, and my cousin was the only one with a ticket. It was like a glass wall – I could see myself being more excited, but that was it – I could only see. I could almost tap into that same feeling that I held only a year or two ago, but that was it – I could only almost.

It wasn’t disappointing. It was an opportunity. I took my seat at a round table with my uncle, aunt, and cousin, in the middle of the afternoon, getting whiffs of the odd combination of pizza, chinese, and coffee, and floated back to a dull, uncomfortable chair; alone; legs up on my sole suitcase. The quiet terminal, aside from the occasional whispers of a handful of United Airways Agents, was dominated by an intimidating poster advertising a movie starring a gold and hotrod red robot-man, that was frankly more brilliant in the dim lighting than would be at midday. Cramped, but not from a lack of space, and occasionally shivering, half due to air conditioning during the wee hours of a summer morning and half due to not having control of what tomorrow will bring, I could’ve easily sat there for many more hours, now convinced they would’ve felt like mere moments anyway. It was a memory. It wasn’t real.

It made me proud.

Not because it was an accomplishment under my belt, but because I was able to see my cousin off on her own trip – on her own. It would serve as a rite of passage – a time to learn about yourself, a time to stand on your own feet, a time to confront your fears of the unknown. Those times when you’re truly alone, not lonely, but alone – those are character developing moments that create the person you ought to be. Maybe it’s not a flight to a foreign country, or even outside your own hometown – but whatever or wherever it is, take the trip, it’s your right.

Mr. President

They did secret ballots (hands raised with closed eyes), and he even had to give an inauguration speech. He graced us with the opportunity to hear the oath he had to recite.

The Oath

“Repeat after me, I promise. I promise to fulfill my duties…”

Me: “Duties?” <chuckle>

“Yea, duties…”<chuckle>

“I promise to fulfill my duties…<chuckle>… for this band and for this church.”

on a rock,

attempting to escape the clutches of a rapacious eagle,

in vain,

whose loaned nest catches glimpses of merchant

and maiden

talking of times past and present and a time future.