Today I was taking stock of my faith, mainly because we are about to embark on a new adventure. As we contemplated the road before us, I found myself weak in the knees. The road is long, uncertain, and with some foreseeable roadblocks that I don’t know how we will overcome. I told myself to have faith then quickly realized the words seemed small in the shadow of my doubt.

Will we make the journey? Honestly, I don’t know. Can we overcome the obstacles? I don’t know that either. Maybe not. Will we fail in our quest? It is a strong possibility. With these honest answers in mind, is it wise to try anyway? Hmmm. I don’t like to fail. I like to finish what I start. I want to know I can succeed. But no such guarantees can be made in this case.

I have done other hard things in life. I’ve given birth four times. I finished my bachelor’s degree with three little ones and my husband overseas. I completed my master’s degree in the middle of a deployment, moving across the country, and a few other major life transitions. I don’t picture myself as a wuss, but in the face of our latest destination, I might change my mind. It just seems insurmountable.

The journey would be worth it, even with challenges. And the goal is precious. But it feels like trying to do the impossible. So I had to ask myself, what is the state of my faith? The answer is simple: my faith is hiding behind my confidence in myself to get things done. In other words, my faith is only as big as my ability, which isn’t very big at all.

I definitely lack the ability for the next journey. This isn’t false modesty or poor self-image; it is just an honest appraisal of the situation. The ability to make it to the finish line will have to come from outside myself. This takes faith – the kind of faith I haven’t really exercised before.

I am reminded of the story of Abram and Sarai who were promised a child in their old age. They lacked faith beyond their ability too. They believed the promise, but only as far as they could figure out how to make it happen. In their doubt, they traded a glorious impossibility for the consolation prize they could conjure themselves. I don’t want to make this trade.

So I need to exercise my faith. It is tiny right now. You might need a microscope to see it. Growing it to the size of a mustard seed is my goal. I thought my faith was bigger, but it takes something bigger than our ability to see the measure of our faith. Looking at the journey ahead has revealed the sad state of my faith, but in the revelation is the opportunity to watch it grow.

~ Alyse