When I was in college, provoked by some sort of stress or heartbreak, I went to my nearest Deseret Book, and bought an $8 necklace meant for little kids with a mustard seed in the center of it.
Any day I needed just an extra dose of faith, I wore that mustard seed necklace. That necklace came with me to job interviews, final presentations, and difficult conversations. I gifted the same mustard seed necklace to friends who were going through trying times. That necklace accompanied me out of college, into my first teaching career, into marriage, and I am even wearing it now. When met with draining days, I stared hard at that mustard seed and remembered the promise in Matthew: if I had faith the size of a mustard seed, I could move mountains.
When I felt like my faith wasn’t enough, I looked at the mustard seed and thought, “I could do that.”
People say faith is the opposite of fear. But I think faith exists alongside fear – they do not cancel each other out.
For a long time, I avoided looking into my questions about the Church out of fear. I felt a great fear of losing my testimony, of not being satisfied, of ultimately losing my faith.
What is a “testimony”, anyhow? Have we made it to be some sort of abstract thing to grasp at? Is it a precious, fragile object, one that must be packaged with care?
Faith does not equal certainty.
I’ll say it louder for you, over there, trying not to be seen!
Faith does not equal certainty!
Certainty is deliciously satisfying. Thinking you know all the answers makes you feel like you’re unstoppable. I remember feeling so invincible as a missionary, walking the streets of New York, speaking in Mandarin, following my heart and intuition in a way that is hard to replicate now. When life has one purpose and everything else is taken care of, like life as a missionary, extraordinary things happen. I experienced beautiful miracles with that intentional alignment with God.
As I grow up, that certainty feels harder to achieve. I have bills to pay now. I have a job. I am spending my twenties trying to figure out myself and how the stitches of my life fit into the tapestry of the world. It’s taken me a long while and a lot of fearful tearful nights, but I have finally come to accept that certainty is not something that God requires or asks for. He asks for our trust, our hope, and our desire to do good and be good.
What use is a glass figurine of a testimony, boxed up in all its precious coveted certainty, if it does not stand the test of the raging waters?
I am reminded of Mark 4:38-40, where there was such an event of raging waters, and the disciples awoke and asked a sleeping Jesus if He actually cared. At that point, they might as well have tossed their fragile testimony out into the sea – the living Word was right in front of them, and still, they doubted His character.
Jesus asked them, Why are you so fearful? how is it that you have no faith?
Jesus wasn't condemning their fear or lack of understanding, but rather pointing out that they possessed the capacity for faith even amid turmoil. Jesus invited them to anchor their trust in Him, the living Word, who transcends all storms and uncertainties.
An important note: the disciples were not asked to have faith that the boat could hold them. They weren't asked to have faith in each other or to put their faith in whoever was steering. They were expected to have faith in Jesus, God in the flesh, who happened to be sleeping during their storm (I love that the story is this way, as frustrating as a sleeping God can feel).
It’s important to re-evaluate what, exactly, we are putting our faith in.
As I talked about in my last Something for Sundays post, it’s easy to mix up our faith in Christ with faith in the Church. They are not the same to me. Church communities and religion are the vessels by which we practice our faith, but our faith is in Jesus and God alone. I am constantly turning, turning, turning, back to Jesus, measuring things up against him.
A book that I admittedly have not yet read but want to is called The Sin of Certainty by Peter Enns.
This quote comes from that book: “When we reach the point where things simply make no sense, when our thinking about God and life no longer line up, when any sense of certainty is gone, and when we can find no reason to trust God but we still do, well that is what trust looks like at its brightest – when all else is dark.”
What happens when the storm of life dissipates, as it surely will? What happens when the rage of the waters clears? What is left underneath it all? Will our heart still be turned toward God? That raw, messy, unfiltered, seemingly naive trust that God is who we believe He is — that, to me, is faith.
Faith may not be a shiny glass “testimony”, polished and squeaky clean. Faith in Jesus is messy, is real, is painstakingly human, and yet it is brightest amongst the backdrop of darkness and despair.
May we release some of the certainty that binds us and allow God to witness us in our storms. May we hold onto the mustard seed of faith and trust that it is enough.
If this post resonated with you, and you need a good cry, watch this: The Chosen: Peter Walking on Water Scene
I absolutely love reading your comments and thoughts and would love to continue this conversation of faith, certainty, and uncertainty in the comments section.
Have a wonderful week ahead!
This post reminds me of these quotes I liked from a talk:
“Faith in God and in the ultimate triumph of right contributes to mental and spiritual poise in the face of difficulties.”[Hugh B. Brown, in Conference Report, Oct. 1969.]
It is through Christ and His Atonement that all good things come into our lives. As we remember who we are, knowing that there is a divine plan of mercy and drawing courage in the strength of the Lord, we can do all things. We will find calm. We will be good women and men in any storm.
May we seek the blessings of Christlike poise, not only to help ourselves in challenging times but to bless others and help them through the storms in their lives.
Powerful thoughts! I also believe that faith can exist alongside fear. To continue forward with faith in Christ (who at times does appear to be sleeping, loved your analogy) despite our fear and uncertainty, echos the desperate father’s plea in Mark 9:23-24, “Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief.” His statement came right after the Savior told him that all things were possible unto them that believe. And he still received the miracle.