GROWING INTO SEASONED FAITH

Struggling with my faith has been and continues to be a constructive, if not always enjoyable experience for me. This life-long process has at times been attended by discomfiting anxiety as well as a genuine sense of serenity, making the word, “struggling”, quite appropriate.

In the early years of my faith development, the struggling was not so intense. Matters of faith were more settled in those days. The boundaries were more clearly marked, and the discussions of serious faith issues were limited, in both depth and breadth. The basic principles of faith(those fundamental concepts of Christian doctrine about who God is, the plan of redemption made possible through Jesus Christ, the Bible being God’s Holy Word, and the Holy Spirit’s work in the life of the individual and the church) were already established and were considered sufficient for that present time and circumstances.

But then there came that inevitable advent of life changes which presented some formidable challenges to my preparatory faith. The transition from the relatively secure surroundings of the elementary to the more expansive and yet unexplored regions of faith, required some considerable alterations in my thinking. Moving into a different and somewhat un-chaperoned environment of broader education, cultural diversity, and varied religious traditions, demanded that my faith parameters be stretched to greater limits.

My growing faith required that choices be made, and each choice became a learning experience. As I came to grips with more of life’s stark realities, I dared to ask, “Is my faith founded on something more durable than loyalty to my own system of beliefs?” And further, “Will my faith remain steadfast in the face of devastating poverty, debilitating diseases, ethnic hostility and hatred, and environmental calamity”? In truth, some answers have been more easily acquired than others. Some questions remain as I grapple with myths and certainties, still in quest of authentication. But, rather than being discouraged and inclined to consider my faith as invalid, I am developing a faith that consistently proves itself more substantial and reliable, even while waiting for validation. I am growing into what I would describe as “seasoned faith,” a faith confirmed through long-term life experience.

Essential to this process is the recognition and acceptance of a continual transformation. The Apostle Paul refers to this progression when he says, “When I was a child, I talked like a child; I thought like a child; I reasoned like a child. But when I became a man [adult] I put childish things behind me.” (1 Corinthians 13:11; N.I.V) Even so, my struggle continues. I do get caught up, now and again, in the fickle winds of circumstance. I vacillate between the extremes of childishness and maturity, and, in fact, more often than I would like to admit, I concede. Like those early disciples, I find it less strenuous to respond with childish immaturity than to choose the more arduous response of a seasoned faith. Childish faith concerns itself with immediate personal needs-the security of salvation; the tangible benefits of being in relationship with Christ; and the anticipation of having prayers answered in accordance with one’s own wishes. Seasoned faith, on the other hand, has been informed and disciplined by years of experience and is, therefore, more expansive in its vision, and more acclimated to long-term fulfillment with respect to God’s eternal purpose. Childish faith is preoccupied with self-interest and gratification. Seasoned faith expresses itself in gratitude.

Jesus’ question directed to his disciples about their faith, or lack there of, often rings in my ears as well. In that moment, I am called back into the sphere of understanding faith in the light of God’s redemptive and transformative intentions for all creation. Seasoned faith recognizes that while God loves and cares for me personally and intimately, I am not God’s only child. I do live in a larger world of vast and desperate needs. When I exercise my faith, selfishly, and insist that God give priority to meeting my needs, without regard to anyone else, whose needs may be far more desperate and urgent, that is, indeed, childish behavior. This is exactly the kind of childishness that I want to put behind me, and begin thinking about faith in its larger dimensions. Rather than thinking in terms of amassing greater and greater quantities of faith, my challenge now is to grow into a fuller and more dynamic understanding of faith.

The Hebrews 11:1 passage, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things unseen,” is beginning to make more sense to me now. As I understand it, this is not so much a definition of faith as it is an acknowledgement of faith’s actuality. As I consider the actuality of faith, it occurs to me that my life, my humanity, my spirituality, my very being, are all wrapped up in relationship with God. From the beginning and all the way through, it is within the context of that relationship that my faith finds opportunity for expression.

Now, in my mind, my relationship with God and my faith in God are inseparable. I can no longer determine which came first, the relationship or the faith. But, perhaps that is as it should be with seasoned faith.

SOUL ENCOUNTER

Last night the Holy Spirit" Restored my soul". It happened quietly; no mighty, rushing wind; no ecstatic utterances; no visions; just a calm reassurance of an unexplainable presence. I was reflecting, momentarily, on the 23rd Psalm and those particular words: "He restores my soul".

How often have I read those words without any expectation that it would actually happen in such a way as this. Like a cool refreshing rain after a long dry spell; that soft, pleasant breeze in the evening after a long day's work in the hot sun, so was this experience of restoration. The entire episode only lasted a few seconds and I was startled by it but yet, there was not doubt about what happened. My soul was restored.

Well, so what? What difference will this experience make over the long haul? All I know is that I had an encounter such as I have never had before and I have a more vital sensitivity to God' presence. But, how will all this affect my day-to-day living? Will this change the way I deal with difficult relationships? Will I be more patient in those times of frustration? Will This event allow me to be more peaceful in times of anxiety? For me, the answers to these questions will be the confirmation, the authentication of the Holy Spirit's work of restoration--- a work still in progress.

The Dictionary

Agim & I visiting with Mejzin at his home

I had spoken with Lek by phone on several occasions since the death of his sister three months earlier, but his schedule and mine had precluded a face-to-face visit until the other day. The anticipated 30-minute lunch-break concluded an hour and a half later when his colleagues called wondering when Lek would return to work (no harm done - Lek had put in many extra hours at the office voluntarily).

When we first met Lek and his family in 1998, his sister, Rena, had given me a dictionary of the Albanian language. Both Rena and her father, Mejzin, had written brief notes on the flyleaf, signifying that this volume was a gift of friendship. I had used the dictionary on numerous occasions in the process of continuing language study and had guarded it as we moved from place to place over the course of our almost ten-year residency in Macedonia.

When we received the news that Rena had died, I immediately thought of the dictionary that she had given to me. It was, in fact, the only thing she had of any value, at the time, which she considered appropriate to present to me as a gift. When I looked at the flyleaf again, I remembered the expression on Rena’s face when she gave me the book. She was all smiles. It was one of the few occasions, as her parents shared later, that Rena did have a genuine sense of joy and a smile on her face.

As I reflected on that experience, I wondered what would happen if I offered to return the dictionary to her family as a memorial to Rena. When we made our visit with Rena’s parents, following her burial, I was hesitant, but found the courage to make the offer of returning the dictionary. Mejzin and Zijavere couldn’t speak for the tears that flowed. After they recovered and were able to utter a few words, they said that they would be honored to have the book back again, and that it would be a treasured keepsake for them.

When I was finally able to meet Lek during his lunch-break, I also invited our dear mutual friend, Agim Iseni. (One can take such liberties when a strong, trust relationship has been established). Neither Lek nor Agim knew that I had the dictionary with me. It was my intention to have Lek and Agim collaborate with me in writing a fitting memorial message on that same flyleaf where Rena and Mejzin had written their notes.

Lek had not seen the dictionary in eight years, but when he saw the words Rena had written on the inside cover, he recalled the occasion when she had given it to me. Agim had never seen the book at all, but then realized that this was the special teasue that I had promised to return to Mejzin and Zijavere. Agim and his wife, Habibe, had gone with us to visit the family after Rena’s death, and so he was present when I had made the commitment to return the book to the family.

Collaborating on the message was an extraordinary moment for the three of us. I spoke in English to Lek, who then translated the message into Albanian, while Agim did the writing. The note read, “We remember Rena with tenderness of heart and with gratitude to God. This book was given as a gesture of friendship, and it is being retuned as a memorial to Rena and as a bond of our continuing relationship.”

What happens when people open themselves up to being enfolded by God’s love? My observation is that in the lives of these families what began as a spark is being ignited into a flame.

Pastoral Care in Another Culture

While we were in Prague, we received word that Rena Dalipi had died. The Dalipi family have been long-time friends of ours. We grieve for them and with them over the loss of their daughter and sister. She succumbed to undiagnosed tuberculosis.

After our return to Skopje, we consulted with Agim and Habibe Iseni, other long-time and mutual Albanian friends of the Dalipi family, about making a visit to Gostivar to offer condolences and compassion to the family. Agim and Habibe advised us to wait for a week or so until all the extended family had made their proper visits and returned home. They suggested that this would be a more appropriate time for our visit. We would have a better opportunity to give our attention to Mejzin & Zijarave and their son, Lek, apart from all the confusion and busy-ness which normally accompanies such an event.

Without being consciously aware of it, Agim and Habibe were counseling us in effective pastoral care ministry in their cultural context. How much more meaningful will this visit be because we decided to wait for the appropriate time. Our intention will be to convey to the Dalipi family that they are embraced and enwrapped in the arms of God’s eternal love.

In his book, Here and Now, Henri Nouwen makes a distinction between the Greek terms, “chronos” (clock time) and “kairos” (the time of opportunity). In recognizing these two concepts of time, Nouwen points out that we must live with the restraints of clock-time, but that our lives will be enriched by our understanding that we also have a more expansive framework of times of opportunity. We can anticipate that this visit with our friends, the Dalipi family, will require several hours out of our day, but we also anticipate that this will be a “time of opportunity” in which God’s love will be revealed.

EYE LEVEL WITH THE CLOUDS

We were encircled by lofty mountain grandeur in the Swiss Alps. Down below lay the calm, blue waters of the lake. Between the rugged peaks and the beautiful lake, single clouds drifted by on their way to some undisclosed destination.

As I awoke one morning and walked out onto the balcony, I realized, to my absolute amazement, that I was standing at eye level with the clouds. I had the the feeling that if I called to them they would come over and I could touch them, but I dared not disturb their tranquility. They wandered by and moved on, silently, yet intentionally, it seemed. It was as if those individual clouds had a life and a personality of their very own.

Yes. Those clouds were formed as a natural result of the atmospheric conditions, particular to that locality on that morning, but to me, on that occasion, those clouds were filled with the presence of God. This was another of those first time experiences that left an indelible impression on my mind. The words of the psalmist gave expression to the sentiment of my soul.

"Sing to God. Sing praise to the name of the Holy One. Extol the One who rides on the clouds, whose name is the the Lord". (Psalm 68:4, My paraphrase)

A GLIMPSE AT THE MORNING

I just went outside to look at the morning. That was my intention; not going out to go somewhere else; not going out to accomplish my task for the day, but just to look at the morning. What a beautiful morning it is too. The sun is shinning. A cool breeze is blowing after many days of 100+ temperatures. The mountains stand in majestic silence all around. Not many people are out at this time of the morning. It is quite except for the quartet of birds blending their songs into their own kind of harmony. These words come mind: "This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Psalm 118: 24) No. It's not Sunday. It's Thursday.


Well, things are changing now. There's the prayer call form the nearby mosque. An airplane drones overhead. The delivery trucks are beginning to make their rounds, and that sound is accompanied by the inevitable noise of traffic. People are going about their regular routines now, completely unaware of the experience I just had. I have a longing to reach to them in the hope that they too may come to know this peace and joy that passes all understanding

A Valuable Lesson

(This story came to me while waiting at the airport in Skopje, Macedonia during the Kosovo refugee crisis)

A young man came to his father one day and said,"I think I'm ready to learn the lessons of life, will you teach me?" The father smiled and said that he would be pleased to help in any way he could. "What lesson will you teach first?" the young man asked. "When the lesson is learned", the father answered, "You will know it".

After a few days the father sent the son to see an elderly man in town, who had a reputation for helping young people along the way of learning the lessons of life. When the young man arrived at the elder's house, the butler asked him to come and wait in the sitting room. After what seemed to be hours, an assistant came in with a message that the elder would not be able to see the young man and that he should come back another day. The young man returned home disappointed and confused.

When his father asked if he had learned anything on the first visit, the son said "No! All I did was just sit and wait." The father said, "Son, you must go again to see the elderly man. He will help you learn the lesson of life." The boy was hesitant, but finally agreed to a second visit.

This time, after what seemed to be hours, the young man was asked to come into the room where the elderly man sat reading a book. After a few moments had passed, the elderly man looked up and peering over his spectacles asked, "Are you learning anything?" Bewildered by the question, the young man replied, "How can I learn anything? All I have done so far is sit and wait." The elderly man chuckled as he returned to his reading, then said to the reluctant learner, "Come back and see me again".

By this time the young man was growing weary of this experience and said to his father, "If I don't learn anything after my next visit to the elder's house, that's it! I'm not going back again".

On the third visit the assistant came in and said that the elder had requested that he come back again sometime time next week. At that, the young man jumped up and shouted angrily, "I've had it! All of this has been a waste of time! I will not come back again!" He stormed out the door and down the street, voicing his frustration so all the world could hear. When his father asked if he had learned anything, the boy growled and closed himself in his room.

Some weeks later, after the young man's anger had subsided somewhat, his father asked the son to accompany him on a trip to another city. Eager to leave his exasperation behind him, the boy quickly accepted his father's invitation,and began packing his bag.

When they arrived at the station, a large crowd was already there, waiting to buy tickets. It was hot. The crowd was noisy and agitated. The children were restless and the babies were crying. As they inched their way to the ticket booth, the young man nudged his father and said, "If the people had been through the experiences like I have had over these past few weeks, maybe they would have a little more patience in situations like this, when all you can do is wait". The father turned and placed his hands on his son's shoulders and looking straight into his eyes asked the lingering question,"Have you learned anything about the lessons of life"? The son stood silent for a moment. Then with a smile and a countenance that assured the father that the light was beginning to dawn, the young man answered, "Thanks Dad. Yes. I think I'm beginning to learn now."