This morning, at church, my pastor read a William Stafford poem to end his sermon. He spoke on the nature of the relationship between God and ourselves, that we are called to hang on to the thread that connects us to God, that keeps us even and steady even in the midst of great suffering and storms.
I have not always had an easy time feeling that thread. I have always felt a pull to something greater than myself, but I spent some years in a state of serious doubt brought on by academia and personal trauma that seemed to be impossible if God truly existed. But, then, the moment of faith came--the one that showed me nothing but prayer and belief was going to make me feel better--and I knew, deep in my bones, that my faith was one that belonged to me. That it wasn't just a faith I was raised with or of my parents and grandparents, it was and is mine.
I have a hard time with my faith, often wondering how the miracles God has worked in my life can be given that some of them seem in such direct opposition to biblical teachings, but I have never been one to take the Bible literally, and so I am working on it. It is hard to love your neighbor as yourself when you struggle, on occasion, to do the latter. It is hard to turn the other cheek when they've both been slapped so long, and it is hard to practice perfect love and compassion in a world so intent on revering fear and isolation.
But, I am trying. I am trying to hold on to the thread that connects me to God, to answer His call in my life, to have faith not only in Him but in myself and in the actions and words of those around me. I am stuck, today, in a particular relationship that is not moving as I would like it to, but I need to let go of my attachment to the outcome and trust that--as He has seen fit to do so far--God will lead me where I am supposed to go. Until then, I'll keep holding on to the thread.
The Way It Is, William Stafford
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
I believe this is an impossible concept. I have lived a long time and suffered more than one 'crisis of faith' when it was all I could do to hold on to the IDEA of the thread, grit my teeth and wade my way through that swamp of darkness where nothing eases my pain. In the end though, just like that really lovely, corny song from Carousel, I have found that indeed, I am not alone.
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