These were the words to a song I was listening to today on my Pandora station (Nichole Nordeman).
This life. The one I’ve been given. Despite what I do and do not believe. Despite how it happened. Despite WHY it happened. THIS is the life I have been given…to do with what I please, what I will, what I won’t, what I shall and shan’t.
So what DO I believe? Some days I am sure of this. Other days not so much. I read a lot and keep myself open to the opinions and beliefs of others. I am frequently touched and intrigued by all things spiritual.
I am not offended by much (obvious things aside…like child abuse, vulgarities, general meanness, etc.), and I am open to possibilities of body, mind and spirit. I am intrigued by the pilgrimages of others, and fascinated by all that we are learning and all that we refuse to acknowledge (I like to honor Galileo by entertaining beliefs about things that have yet to be fully embraced or proven).
Some people, upon reading of my thoughts might say, “Uh-oh, she is leaving herself open for attack, not being faithful to God’s Word, not protecting herself as she should.” Others might offer a tongue-in-cheek, “Amen sister!” Still others may roll their eyes and think, “Jibberish!” Thank goodness my beliefs don’t have to please anyone but me and my Maker.
Which brings me to my POINT: I believe I have a maker…an omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient being (for lack of a better word) who created me for a reason. Try as I might not to (I could adopt a strictly scientific viewpoint), I still believe. Ignorance? Perhaps. Wishful thinking? Perhaps. Doesn’t matter. The CRUX is that I believe. There is of course evidence (scientific as well) that supports my view , but I am not versed in it yet.
How the details flush out are not important here. What IS important is the offering…the way the words struck me to the core: “I can only give you what you’ve given me…this life.” And so, this is my offering as well. Take my life and use it. Hone my gifts for Your purpose. Silence my doubts with Your earsplitting truth and protect me as my inquisitive mind travels boldly. I can serve You without naming what I am doing, right? I can partake in your gifts (peace, grace, love, hope, faith) without being perfect, and even without standing on a mountain top and professing my faith, right?
Each morning when I greet You, You answer. How can this be? I have flaws; I resist labeling my faith; I am unwilling or unable to proselytize on Your behalf; I refuse to believe that believers in other faiths, gays, lesbians, non-believers, or the unrepentant are excluded from Your mysteries and miracles.
Perhaps you should deny me the chance to speak with you. You don’t. And because of this, and this alone…the fact that you speak to and with the likes of me, I believe. And I’d like to give You that which You have given me: this life.