I once thought I had faith, after becoming a Christian a few years ago, almost 4 years now, I thought I was set. I believed, I had experiences, my spirituality was alive and vibrant in so many ways, and everything was confirming the ideas i had about God.
I had many signs and wonders to reassure me and to lead and guide me, to coddle me from destination to destination. I had maps and guideposts, prophets and elders, but more than all of these, I had myself. I had the assumption that I knew what I was doing. But in my wealth of experience, I was poor in faith.
I was blinded by my own blindness, ignorant of my own ignorance, and dead with the weight of a glory that was not mine. I felt superior, though i would never have admitted it.
One day i woke up in tears, and prayer became more and more difficult from that day forward, to the point where prayer eventually became weeping parties of me howling into my pillow when my roommate was away.
I had nothing. It was when i realized this that I could begin to understand my place in the world rightly.
It was when everything was taken away and my life had dried up into a weeping agony of silence from heaven that I began to understand. Feeling myself dangling over the abyss was not damnation, but the beginning of flight.
Even in my most spiritual of experiences I did not know what faith was.
It was not till God stripped me of Himself that I realized what faith could really mean. It was that moment where in the overwhelming darkness, a voice rose up within that interminable winter inside me and said, ‘let there be light.