Faith provides source of love

RELIGION TODAY - Published Saturday September 27th, 2008

What does faith mean to you? I used to have people tell me it was personal confession of faith in the saving power of Jesus Christ. But that never made a whole lot of sense to me. Faith to me has nothing to do with getting into heaven.

Let me tell you a story. It is about what might have been the scariest moment of my life. The birth of our first child went beyond the usual fear to downright panic. She was born immobile, blue, not breathing or moving. My wife asked me if she was okay, and I did not have any way to respond -- fear had paralyzed me. One gruff nurse almost seemed to yell, "She will be," and all hell broke loose.

Positions shifted as cords were cut, chairs pushed aside, and machines kicked into overdrive. They lifted her away to the other side of the room and started suctioning her lungs. Horrible sounds, when all we wanted to hear was a cry. Almost before we knew it she was gone, down the hall to the cavernous, dimly lit reality of Natal Intensive Care. For the first time in my life I felt lost and alone; I was out of place with nothing to do; and powerless -- and I need to be in charge.

By 4 a.m., some three hours later, we still had no idea how she was doing, and were told we should get some sleep. It had now been just about 24 hours since the last time we had closed our eyes and reluctantly we made our way down to the room to wait.

God takes care of people -- that is what I have always thought. Yet here we were as far away from being cared for as I can possibly imagine. The room was dark and I lay on my back seething with anger, at the hospital, at life, at God -- springs of the cot cutting into my back, dry air of the hospital taking its toll on my lungs and eyes. Finally I got the courage to cry.

That is when it happened. The silence deepened. The darkness closed in. God was there. I have always been a religious person of sorts; and have certainly always tried to do the right thing by God. I had never, however, felt anything like this. I could actually feel God hugging me. It was not so much that the arms were wrapped around me, just a pressure open me that somehow whispered into my soul "I am here."

Almost immediately another thought came unbidden into my mind, "It will be all right." Now I knew in my head that this was no guarantee of health; it might very well be God telling me that even if she dies, it will be all right, somehow. But with that thought came such a moment of peace, such an overwhelming understanding that I need not be in control, that I fell instantly asleep.

My daughter is now three. She doesn't eat her vegetables and she talks back to her mother like you would not believe. But she was born dead -- and is now alive. God told me it would be okay. Although I have never before nor since felt the presence of God in that way, nothing will ever separate me from the very real knowledge that God is not abstract. Rather, God shows up in unexpected ways at unexpected times and reminds us that no matter what happens, it will be okay.

It has very little to do with whether I confess faith in one dogma or another, whether I am of one faith or another. The power behind the universe is love. And because of that there is hope. That is faith.