Comfortable Faith

One time my mother told me that she admired my steady faith.  I replied to her, oh so young as I was, that I had been blessed with the Gift of Certainty.  I hadn't ever doubted my faith, my place in God's love.

I still think I've never doubted God.  His existence or His love for me.  It'd be ridiculous, from my perspective.  I've seen Him everywhere in my life.

But I don't see his miracles the way that my mother and people like her do.  I don't see coincidences as the guiding hand of the Holy Spirit.  Usually anyway.  I say a prayer of thanks after every near-miss with traffic.

But that's about it.  I see God's light in the moments that help me move forward on hard days -- in kind words from the students arriving at just the right time or just a happy note from a friend turning up when I need it most.  But I don't see His hand at work, guiding my steps.  I don't see a message.  I see proof of His existence.  I see proof that He can live in our hearts.

It seemed like enough.  To see His face everywhere.

But I can't even imagine living in the way that would allow Him to direct my steps so directly.  I laugh sometimes when I find His wisdom in out of the way places.  I laugh that He had to place His words in sci fi show recaps or the silliest of novels.  And sometimes when I do, I think how I should take more time to listen.

But I sincerely don't know how.  The closest I've ever come to listening properly is this blog, where I talk and talk and talk and see what pops out.  Waiting for Him to direct me to the proper words.

Jesus could do so little in His hometown because they weren't willing to hear Him because, well, they knew him when.

I worry I have their practicality.  I worry I have their over-comfort with Jesus.  I worry I have forgot the shock and awe of His godhood in my comfort with His light in the faces around me. 

Have I forgotten that His Light isn't just their to brighten my path but to guide my steps?