"I don't just believe in God, I believe God."
A meditation from my Catholic imagination
Recently,
, who I’ve followed and appreciated for years, wrote a post titled “A Catholic Feminism Manifesto.” The whole piece is a great read: it includes several lessons she has learned in her time as a Catholic online, a strong sense of what inspires and continues to fuel her work, and a list of things she holds true in the form of a “Claire Creed.” And at the very end of this list, she tucks in one line that stopped me in my tracks and has been stuck like glue in my head and heart ever since:“I don’t just believe in God, I believe God.”
A long time ago, on a retreat when I was a teenager, I decided to believe in God. But do I believe God? After mulling it over for weeks, I’ve found that it’s a tough question that I need to ask myself every single day. And Lent is the perfect time to ask ourselves tough questions.
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My bare foot crunches a piece of cereal into the hard floor, and it makes me want to throw a plate. It is still dark outside, and I’m fumbling toward the Keurig, desperate for the ritual of my first cup of coffee. Between cleaning out and refilling the reusable pod, I take a moment to rub my neck and shoulders, still stiff from accidentally sleeping on the floor for a few hours after a child woke from a nightmare. I click everything into place and take a breath as the machine screeches to life. But before my cup is full, I hear a door open upstairs and tiny, tentative footsteps in the hallway.
A still, small voice slips into my consciousness: “My grace is sufficient for you.”
Do I believe God?
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My to-do list takes up an entire sheet of computer paper. The two columns graph my overwhelm: my handwriting grows more illegible as I trace my finger down one side and then the other. I grab a highlighter, ready to choose my battles. I heard that executives only attempt three tasks a day, but surely I could finish at least five or six. Which ones are the most pressing? Which order is the most efficient for accomplishing them all?
I glance at my children, playing contentedly with their trains. My bright orange prayer book catches my eye. I haven’t cracked it yet today.
The still, small voice says, “There is need for only one thing.”
Do I believe God?
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An unexpectedly large hospital bill arrives in the mail. It’s time to pay our annual registration fees for school. The house needed new windows two years ago. Should we buy a pool membership this summer? Eggs are $6/dozen!
The still, small voice says, “Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself.”
Do I believe God?
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I have seen the same man at the same corner for years. He sits on an overturned 5-gallon white bucket in a denim jacket or faded T-shirt. When it’s cold out, he stands. Sometimes he holds a cardboard sign with the word “veteran” written on it and waves at the cars that come to a stop before turning left or right. Sometimes he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares into middle distance. The more I see him, the more I feel sad, helpless, and confused. I don’t know what to do.
The still, small voice says, “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.”
Do I believe God?
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Another headline pops up on my phone, and my heart rate spikes immediately. My sunny kitchen dims around me as I trip into a muddy hole of despair and rage. Literally, how? I ask myself as I wonder for the thousandth time what convoluted series of steps led us to this mess. How can so many people be suffering? How can the people with the power to ease pain choose to inflict more of it instead?
The still, small voice says, “I died for them, too.”
Do I believe God?
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There are many paths a person could take to arrive at belief in God’s existence, like the logical proofs of St. Thomas Aquinas, the inspirational lives of the saints, the testimony of a friend, or a miracle witnessed in his or her own life, to name a few. But I think there’s only one path to believing God. It’s the daily choice to pray and work, to trust and love. It’s taking a step into the story of salvation and hoping it’s all true. As the first Christians put it, it’s following The Way.
That’s because being a Christian is about so much more than simply believing in God; it is also believing that what God says is true: that God has loved us into existence from the dawn of time. That God has chosen us, protects us, and provides for us. That God is merciful and trustworthy and hears the cry of the poor. That the kingdom of God is already here, but not yet it its fullness, and we have a role to play in it. That ultimately, all God wants is what is best for us, what we were made for all along: eternal life in Heaven. That’s why God died. To save us all.
Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief.
If you liked this essay, would you forward it to a friend? Thanks for your kindness!
Footnotes felt weird this time around, but the academic in me can’t let you go without telling you about my sources:
“My grace is sufficient for you.” See 2 Corinthians 12:9.
“There is need for only one thing.” See Luke 10:38-42.
“Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself.” See Matthew 6:34.
“Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.” See Matthew 25:40.
“I died for them, too.” See basically all of Romans 5, but especially Romans 5:8 (and as long as you’re there, see Romans 6:10, too).
“Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief.” See Mark 9:24.
And if you want to hear the story of the still, small voice, check out 1 Kings 19:11-13 (it’s one of my favorite Bible passages of all time!).
What I’ve been reading and writing lately:
My friend
’s new book, Finding God Along the Way blends humor, authenticity, and spiritual wisdom for everyday life as she tells the story of her pilgrimage on the Ignatian Camino. An excellent choice for anyone still looking for something inspiring to read this Lent! (And there’s even a Lenten supplement available on the Paraclete Press website!)I recently wrote for the Jesuits on discerning a Lenten practice with prudence and for Busted Halo on my renewed love for the Liturgy of the Hours.
I’ve raved about the Gray Havens before, but their song “This My Soul” is really perfect for this time of year. Big Easter Vigil energy; highly recommend.
Coming up…
I’ll have an essay on good vs. evil ready in time for Easter!
This is beautiful! How easily I forget…
This reminds me of the refrain of the surrender novena, “Jesus, you take care of it…”
I needed these words.