Your Faith Doesn't Have to Be Perfect
I think reverie comes before faith
The apostles said to Jesus, “Give us more faith!”
Jesus replied, “If your faith were the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Dig yourself up and plant yourself in the sea,’ and it would obey you.
Kelly and I got engaged 10 years ago this week. I sold my electric guitar gear and bought the three things I needed to to pop the question: an engagement ring, a plane ticket to Kansas City, and a bouquet of flowers. Seven hours in the air later, I hopped off the airplane, got down on one knee in the airport, and asked her to spend the rest of her life with me.
There was one, uh, small detail that we hadn’t addressed yet as a couple:
Kelly had never told me that she loved me.
But, that September evening in the airport, she said yes, and also, that she loved me. Which, was good to hear, but not really needed to make the decision. The deep sense of knowing between us was enough.
We, somehow, knew we’d found our person to pledge, “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.” and bind ourselves together in a sacred bond. What God has joined together, let no man…
So she hadn’t said it, but we somehow knew. And there’s something about knowing that extends well beyond this particular story and into every aspect of our lives.
Why is a sense that we build every aspect of our lives on so difficult to articulate?
If we had to talk about the moment we first sensed that knowing, what words would we use?
Surely we can do better than just saying “well, when you know you know.”
A reverie. A wind blew. Time felt suspended. The Spirit moved. Our hearts burned inside our chests. Something resonated. We connected. A sense that this has been true my entire life and I just became aware of it.
Would we say God spoke to us? I think so, but my experience of that is still the same as above, and saying it that way seems so — certain?
The reverie is something to experience. To get lost in for a moment. The word is rooted in the Old French resverie, which meant joy or delight — and also, a delusion; a hallucination. A sensing of what does not currently exist, but the fleeting thought of it brings you a deep sense of joy. Of what could be. Of what has been present in you all along.
These moments spark just a tiny bit of faith. Faith the size of a mustard seed. But not an empty hope. A faith that leads to a commitment and then a long obedience in the same direction. With commitment, and the letting go of a contingency plan, that faith takes root in you and a togetherness begins to grow and turn into something lasting. In this particular case with Kelly and I: a beautiful life together.
There is an old Apache proverb that says Wisdom sits in places. Its worth pointing out that the sense of knowing doesn’t typically happen just anywhere, but somewhere particular. And that particularity matters. For Kelly and I choosing each other, it was on a roadtrip through the American Southwest and up the West Coast. And we were, of course, unaware of what wisdom sits here or there.
Perhaps our elders know and can advise us on these things.
Perhaps our elders do know and quietly nudge us towards these things.
I had the chance to stand under a 450-year-old oak tree this week on a friend’s farm. In that moment, I knew that Kelly and I, someday, will own land that has old oak trees on it. Not for any reason, other than a deep sense of knowing. Not wanting. Not entitlement. Maybe because the future is something we at least have some hand in shaping. Or requesting from God and receiving.
Eight months before Kelly and I went on the roadtrip together and decided to get married, we happened to go to Seattle with a large group from our church. We accidentally stood next to each other for a group photo. Click. Kelly’s mom later saw that picture when Kelly was home for the holidays. She asked what my name was and when Kelly said “Oh, that’s just Adam McGuffie.” she responded “MCGUFFIE! What a GREAT NAME!”
What she didn’t tell her daughter, until years later, is that she began praying for me, because she knew, in an instant, that she was looking at a picture of her future son-in-law.
And this too, friends, I do not understand.