Is it a Leap of Faith?
Have you ever been rock-climbing? I remember, as a young boy, the first time that I abseiled down a cliff. Or rather, I remember not abseiling, because I couldn’t persuade myself to trust in the rope. All reason was for it! – I had seen the rope hold my heavier big-brothers, and even hold grown-ups. My trustworthy parents were shouting up to me that the rope was trustworthy. The expert climbing-instructor urged me to trust in the rope. But my unreasonable fears overruled my reason: I would not trust the rope, and I walked home in tears, knowing that I had missed out on something wonderful.
Sometimes I doubt Jesus. There are good reasons to doubt Jesus: good questions that deserve thoughtful and honest answers. But – personally – it is not generally these kinds of questions that lead me to doubt. I am confident that there are good reasons to trust in Jesus, good reasons to place my faith in him. But, as with my abseiling story, I sometimes doubt Jesus regardless of the reasons that I have come to have faith in him.
My faith in ropes and my faith in Jesus fluctuates, depending on how I am feeling. But my feelings do not affect the trustworthiness of ropes, nor of Jesus. The rope may or may not prove faithful; Jesus may or may not prove faithful: my feelings are not an infallible guide. My faith in things or in people must be informed by careful consideration; open to change given sufficient reason; but not liable to change without sufficient reason.
When I was trying to abseil, I lost my faith in the rope for no good reason – and I missed out as a result. I would have done better to continue in my faith until good reasons for changing my mind had been brought before me. Could anyoneprove to me that the rope would hold my weight? No. That’s not how life works. There are very few things (and mostly mathematical things) that are provable. The trustworthiness of Jesus is not provable. But it is possible to have a reasonablefaith in Jesus – and in ropes.
That’s how faith works: it’s a trust in something or someone that we have good cause to think will prove itself faithful. I didn’t know for sure that this sofa upon which I am sitting would hold my weight. But faith in it was reasonable, and, as the sofa continues to prove itself faithful, my faith in it was warranted. My faith in the sofa isn’t keeping me from the floor – it is the sofa that is doing that. My faith is merely keeping me from missing out on a comfortable seat, and I am glad to have sat myself here.
I am glad to be following Jesus. I have been following him now for most of my adult life, and he continues to prove himself faithful. Christianity is about faith in a person: Jesus. I love him. Sometimes I feel close to him, sometimes I feel more distant. Sometimes he seems more real to me, sometimes he seems less real. The fluctuations in my faith in him are rarely because good reasons to stop trusting him have been brought before me, and so I continue place in my faith in him. I lean on Jesus, unable to prove that he is able to hold me – and sometimes I follow after him only with fear and doubt. If my fears and doubts had overcome me, I would have missed out on something wonderful – on someone wonderful. My faith doesn’t mean that I have all the answers, and it doesn’t mean that I have it sorted – but it does mean that I have Jesus.
*This post is heavily indebted to C. S. Lewis's essay "Religion: Reality or Substitute?" - the most relevant section of which can be read here: https://www.basicincome.com/bp/nowidefinefaith.htm
Matthew Lilley